#I immediately took note on his relaxed or neutral expressions

[pincushionx]

I love how Hunters eyes are naturally a bit droopy

​Droopy eyed Hunter supremacy

I headcanon that he squints his eyes to make himself appear more serious. However when neutral or not over thinking on how he presents himself, his eyes droop. He got those sleepy eyes, even after he finally rests lol. It makes him look a bit softer idk. I think he either has a resting bitch face or that

Edit: I fixed the art. Also glad y’all liked this post :)

[scarletttries]

Kiss It Better (Gun Woo Bloodhounds Request)

Pairing: Gun Woo (Bloodhounds) x F!Reader

Rating: Smut (Gender neutral pronouns throughout by AFAB for smut purposes)

Word Count: 4k 💘💘💘💘

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone sending in lovely messages about my Bloodhounds content! Doing all the 'write a kiss' requests for Gun Woo has completely put me back in my Bloodhounds era so I wanted to write a more substantial smut request for everyone who's right there with me :) Enjoy and let me know if you want more!

Kiss It Better

It wasn't so much a knock at the door that drove you to your feet, as much as it was one loud bang. Like someone had slumped most of their weight against the door, and wasn't going to shift until you let them in. There was only one man who so routinely showed up to your little apartment that you barely had to peek through the peephole to confirm your suspicions.

"Gun Woo!"

You answered warmly, unlatching the door and subconsciously swinging it wide enough for him to step inside even as you spoke at its threshold. You could see a bag in each of his hands, the reason he had had such trouble knocking, and a fresh pattern of bruises down his muscular arms. You frowned as your gaze followed the purple marks along his arms and up to his jaw, which immediately relaxed into a smile as your eyes met his.

"Good evening, I came to drop off your pay from Mr Oh, and my mother insisted I bring you some of her cooking in case you aren't eating well." Gun Woo bowed his head as he finished the explanation, extending both arms out towards you slowly. Your fingertips brushed over his as you took each bag from his hands, his calloused boxers' knuckles grazing against you with the slightest of sparks.

"Thank you Gun Woo, and please thank your mother for me." You replied warmly, wishing you could think of something else to say to keep him grinning at you a moment longer. As his arms drew back towards his sides you saw him flinch slightly, his eyes creasing shut for just a moment, the slightest wince flashing across his face. "Gun Woo, are you hurt?" He looked genuinely moved by your worry, quickly shaking his head in reassurance as he sighed out,

"I'm not hurt, don't worry. I just ache from training today, that's all." You had never seen the statuesque man show an ounce of discomfort, pushing through gruelling pain and conditions whenever the situation called for it, so you couldn't help but want to tend to him in the rare moment of vulnerability.

"Please will you come in? I want to help, I know what to do?" You knew Gun Woo wouldn't accept help unless you pleaded with him to, coaxing him through the door with a wave of your hand and giving him your hopeful expression. He seemed to weigh up your offer for a second, wincing in pain again as he moved to rub the back of his neck in thought and deciding the slight imposition would be worth it for not only his aching muscles, but his aching heart. The truth was Gun Woo was always volunteering to bring things to you, or finding reasons to stop by your little place. Seeing you was the highlight of his week every single week, your warm smile and welcoming home stirring up a longing inside him that he could barely contain as he took a few tentative steps through the door and cautiously removed his shoes.

He watched, full of curiosity, as you pulled one of the cushions off your couch and placed it carefully on the floor right in front of it.

"Sit. Please." You commanded sweetly, watching colour flush into Gun Woo's cheeks at being told what to do, the boxer hurrying towards you and settling cross-legged on the pillow, staring up at you in wonder. "You need to face the other way." You had to fight back a chuckle at his slight frown as he turned away from you, leaving you space to settle yourself on the sofa behind him, your legs framing his broad shoulders so you could shift yourself as close to his back as possible. "Now just relax." You sighed out softly as you lightly placed a hand on each of his shoulders, feeling him tense up immediately just as you expected. You let your hands sit motionless for a few seconds as you felt Gun Woo fight his every instinct to stay alert and tightly wound, his shoulders feeling heavy even under your light touch. But he didn't move away, or say anything to indicate you should stop, so you cautiously took it a little bit further. Using your thumbs to apply the slightest pressure you dragged your hands over his shoulders and down his back, framing his spine with your touch and being rewarded by hearing Gun Woo let out a sigh that reverberated through his whole being. You repeated the sweeping motion, adding a little more force with your fingertips this time, feeling the dense muscles slightly relax under your touch, his breath slowly easing out again as you moved. Your thumbs grazed over the back of his neck as they followed the shape of him, the man between your legs letting out a soft breathy moan at the contact that had his eyes darting open and his back bolting upright.

"You know you don't have to do this." He mumbled softly, already sounding disappointed by the thought you might take him up on the offer of stopping.

"I know Woo, but I want to. Does it feel nice?" Between the casual pet name and your fingers still brushing over his neck, Gun Woo's head was swimming. Having your hands rubbing over him felt a lot better than nice, every nerve in his body simultaneously setting alight and feeling more soothed than they had in years. He was worried if he tried to respond his voice would betray just how good you felt, so instead he settled for nodding his head and letting you continue your efforts.

Satisfied he was happy with his situation, you added a little more pressure, sweeping your hands over the full width of his shoulders, making sure to add soft circles with your thumbs as your fingers kneaded into his aching flesh. You had never touched someone so massive or so muscular, the feel of his every bulging muscle tangible even through his t-shirt, your fingers spread wide to try and soothe as much of him as possible. You heard his gentle sighs slip occasionally into soft moans as he settled into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut and lips falling open, gently parted to let out every sweet noise.

It wasn't only Gun Woo the massage was having an effect on, a tension forming inside you that made you wish you could squeeze your legs together instead of keeping your knees either side of his arms. He looked so gorgeous, finally relaxed for the first time you could remember, face at ease, his body swaying back towards you as if chasing your every touch. You couldn't imagine him letting himself be this close to anyone else, your heartbeat picking up as you let your little finger brush against the soft skin of his biceps as your hands trailed over his arms.

Gun Woo was as close to heaven as he could ever remember being, a warmth stirring in his gut he couldn't quite place, each little noise slipping through his lips without him being able to stop it. Even with his eyes closed all he could see was you, hardly able to believe this was really happening. He couldn't help but think how good your touch would feel on every part of him, how good it would feel to take your place and rub his strong hands all over you for as long as you'd let him.

You noticed just how much Gun Woo was enjoying your touch before he did, his light coloured sweatpants doing very little to obscure the substantial bulge growing between his legs. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, fighting back a whine at the thought of all of that fitting inside you, your core aching at the just the thought of climbing on top of him. Your caressing hands slowed enough for Gun Woo to come back to reality and realise what part of him had taken over throbbing the most now his muscles were relaxed. He looked up at you with wide eyes, infinitely apologetic and completely lost for words. He wished he was as charming as Woo Jin, that he could pass it off as a compliment and not make a big deal out of it. He was sure you'd like him more if he was better with his words. Luckily, you were used to how selectively he chose to speak, and had a much better response than he ever could have come up with,

"I can help with too, if you want Woo." The affectionate shortening of his name had his pulse quickening again, the slight smirk on your otherwise kind face drawing him in as you patted the sofa beside you. He used his arms to pull himself up onto the seat next to you, his muscles no longer crying out with so much else taking up his attention. He watched wide eyed as you placed one hand lightly over his, looking at him with pure sincerity, "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to, but - "

"I want to." He cut you off before he could overthink it, the words as terrifying as they were natural as they spilled from his lips, "I want to with you I mean. I just - I haven't before. I'm not sure what to do." He looked so bashful as he squeezed your hand hopefully, clinging to you in the hopes you wouldn't leave now that you knew this was all new to him. It was almost too endearing, this greek god of a man looking up at you with pleading eyes and such obvious desire growing between his thighs, your heart fluttering as you smiled and moved to straddle his lap. His thighs felt so warm and firm under yours, his chest grazing against yours with every heaving breath he took, hands hovering just beside you as if unable to cross some invisible boundary without your permission.

"You can touch me Gun Woo." You spoke softly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to read how much of the expression on his face was fear and how much was lust. "Can I kiss you?"

He nodded quickly, head darting forwards to find your lips, not wanting to waste a single precious second of what was turning into the happiest night of his life. He was timid at first, each gentle peck leading to a slightly longer one, a little more pressure added each time as he got a taste for you. As one of his hands settled on the small of your back you took it a step further, scraping your nails over the back of his neck and feeling him moan into your kiss. With his lips parted your traced your tongue over his, feeling him tentatively respond by slipping his tongue between your lips, sending butterflies fluttering through your core. Thrilled by the sensation of exploring your kiss, he brought his free hand to cup your cheek, tilting your head slightly so he could be slightly more forceful, hungrily capturing your lips again and again like they might sustain him the rest of his life. His arm wrapped more tightly over your waist, pulling your hips closer to his and dragging your centre over his aching bulge. A deep groan erupted from his lips at the sensation, his head rolling back as you repeated the motion, grinding down against him with more pressure so you could feel him twitch in response. A strangled moan of your name escaped his lips and he lifted his head to watch you again, lips swollen from your kiss and eyes desperately pleading with you to use him however you liked.

You held the edge of his t-shirt and lifted it slightly, Gun Woo quickly taking the hint and tugging it over his head, flinging it aside in one smooth motion. You let your hands run down his chest, feeling his muscles flex beneath your touch, the sight of him threatening to take your quivering breath away. You rolled your hips again, this time bringing your lips to his neck, kissing and sucking as he let out needy whimpers each time your lips moved to a new spot. You tried adding a little pressure with your teeth, leaving a purple mark in the middle of chest that had him squirming in his seat. As your tongue traced over his nipple you could feel his thighs start to shake underneath you, the usually stoic man coming completely undone before you'd even gotten him fully undressed. Worried about where his body was heading, Gun Woo firmly gripped your hips, stopping your addictive movements and looking at you very seriously as he spoke,

"Can I touch you? Will you show me how?" He tripped over the words, building excitement and nerves getting the better of him as you nodded and planted another kiss squarely on his chest before climbing off his lap. You felt strangely exposed as you pulled your shorts down and let them fall to your feet, not because you thought Gun Woo was going to judge you, but because it made you realise just how wet you were from grinding against him. Your folds were glistening in the night air as you tugged your shirt over your head and let Gun Woo take in the full sight of you. His jaw hung slack as he drank in every inch of you, his lips trembling slightly as you straddled his hips again. This time the feel of his sweatpants against your sensitive pussy sent a shiver through your spine, Gun Woo watching every movement intently as he brought his hands to settle on your thighs. Waiting for your nod of encouragement, he let one hand drift higher, callous fingers tracing shapes on your inner thigh that had biting your lip in anticipation. Slowly he drew closer to your centre, one finger finally making contact with your glistening lips and slipping between them. From the slight smile on his face you thought he must have known what it meant that you were so wet already, his finger easily slipping inside you before withdrawing and tracing the outline of your folds. His every movement so was slow and curious, it was like blissful torture, each teasing moment of contact only building the anticipation fluttering inside you as he watched your face curiously for guidance. When his finger circled over your clit, you let out a needy moan, back arching slightly in a way that had your chest leaning towards him. He repeated the motion, pleased to hear the same noise slip from your lips, your chest bouncing slightly in place as your body jolted from the pleasure. He positioned his thumb over the sensitive spot, finding a steady rhythm of firm circles as two of his fingers slipped inside you.

"Right there Gun Woo!" You whined out as you felt the undeniable climb of the pressure inside you, wondering if there was anything this boy wasn't a natural at. Spurred on by hearing the way you said his name, Gun Woo pushed his fingers slightly deeper inside you massaging you walls and feeling the way your thighs started to shake in response, your pleas of encouragement dissolving quickly into panting moans. Eyes glued to the way your chest gently bounced in front of him, he latched his mouth onto one of your breasts, tongue flicking over one nipple and his free hand moved to knead and squeeze the other. It was so much delicious sensation all at once, every inch of your body sparkling with excitement as you felt the heat inside you reach its precipice, the steady rhythm of his fingers bringing you over the edge in a powerful wave of bliss that had you moaning out his name again and again. He could feel the clench of your walls around his fingers, not daring to stop or change his movements as you rode out of your pleasure, his hungry lips exploring your chest and dragging out your ecstacy, straight into another build up with no sign of slowing.

Gun Woo wished he could do this forever, feeling the reaction of your body to his touch and watching the effect he could have on you. He wanted to train at it like he did with boxing, until he was the best he could be, putting in as many hours as it took to make you feel as incredible as he felt right now. It was getting overwhelming riding his fingers as he pawed your chest, the pressure threatening to build inside you again at an almost intimidating pace.

"Woo," You whined out, the pet name only encouraging him to slip a third finger inside you and pump his wrist a little quicker, your head swimming as you tried to remember why you were going to interrupt him. Your hips rocked against his palm, grazing over his substantial bulge and pulling you back to your initial desperate need to feel him. "Gun Woo." You put your hand on his wrist and he paused his movements and withdrew his hand, frowning as needy whine spilled out of you as your building pleasure eased. "I want to feel you now." You watched the gears turn in his mind as he considered your words, at the same time slowly bringing his glistening fingers up to his lips and tentatively sucking one in a motion that almost finished you off entirely. Pleased with his action he slipped another finger between his lips, before replying, "Can I taste you more?"

You were sure you could feel yourself dripping from the question alone, thanking whatever fate had conspired to bring him to your home tonight and praying it wouldn't be the last time.

"We can try that another time." His face lit up at the suggestion of this happening again, your heart hammering at the thought of Gun Woo becoming even more of a regular visitor to your place. "But right now I want to feel you inside me." You ran your palm over the length of the outline threatening to burst through his pants, watching him squirm in response before you added, "If that's what you want."

Once again lost for words Gun Woo effortlessly lifted you from his lap and placed you back on the couch, pulling down his sweatpants which now had a wet patch glistening over his crotch, and stepping out of them to reveal himself to you. He looked almost self-conscious as you stared at his impressive length, core pulsing at the thought of feeling all of him inside you. Without thinking you licked your lips, giving Gun Woo just enough confidence to move closer, climbing over you until your back met the couch cushions, one arm framing your face as the other ran the leaking tip of his cock over your folds. He waited for you to nod again, leaning down to kiss you greedily before starting to push slightly inside you. You watched his face contort as he stopped almost immediately, eyes clenched shut, muscles tensing above you.

"Are you okay?" You asked softly, relieved when he quickly nodded, grunting out through an almost pained expression.

"You just feel so good. So soft and warm and perfect. And I -" He had to stop himself before he got carried away, and you couldn't help but feel even more turned on at how hard he was having to try not to cum the moment he entered you. You placed a cluster of soft kisses on his cheek, but otherwise stayed motionless until after a few moments he started to drive his hips forwards again. You knew it would feel different being with such a big man, but the way he filled you so completely, his body completely covering yours, it was incredible. Every sense was captivated by him form, his body engulfing yours as he drew closer. When he finally bottomed out inside you, he quickly withdrew, groaning out loud at the sensation as he pulled out of you, only to slam his hips against yours again. He had the control and strength of an athlete in his prime, every motion smooth and powerful and leaving you gasping for breath at the sheer intensity of it. Being with him was all consuming, every thought and breath crying out 'Gun Woo'. His lips couldn't get enough of yours, swallowing every whine and moan his thrusts drew from you, each noise just spurring him on to give you everything he had.

You could feel him straining for control as his snaked a hand over your hip to find your sensitive button again, strumming quick brushes over your clit in time with his hips, adding yet more overwhelming sensation. Your mind was crying out for him as his scent flooded your senses, and every inch of your skin was pressed against his, so wrapped up in his strong arms and yet feeling completely in control as his pleading eyes met yours.

"I'm -" He choked out in a desperate beg, your name quickly following it as his lips crashed down on yours. As his thighs started to clench you could feel the coil inside you start to quickly tighten again, the second release you were so close to reaching on his fingers coming fast and threatening to be even more overwhelming than the first. You tried to let him know how close you were, but when you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked into his desperate eyes, the tension inside you snapped and all you could do was cling to him as your whole body shook with the pleasurable relief. The feeling of your warm, wet walls squeezing his throbbing dick was by far the best thing Gun Woo had ever felt as he spilled inside you, hammering his hips into you again and again. Each shift of his hips only dragged more pleasure out inside of you, tipping him over the edge again as a fresh wave of bliss seemed to spill out of him, cumming more than he ever had when left alone with his thoughts. Thoughts that had been so frequently of you, and yet they hadn't even begun to do justice to the incredible ecstasy he felt as he all but collapsed on top of you, completely spent and even more in love than when he arrived.

You lifted one hand to brush the hair out of Gun Woo's face, heart melting at the gentle smile that had replaced his frantic look of desperation. He leant down to kiss you again, more sweetly this time, lust giving way to love, his affections clear as you leant up and planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. He burst into a giggle at the gesture, using his leveraged position above you to pepper your face with kisses, loyally returning to your lips before too long. He was sure he would have had the best night ever even if you just kissed him tonight.

"You are amazing. Was I okay?" He breathed out in a warm laugh, unsure if the euphoria of the situation was typical of the afterglow, or if this felt as special to you as it did to him.

"You're amazing too, Gun Woo." You stroked his face in reassurance, hoping his first time with you wouldn't be the last. "Do your aches feel better now?" You teased, running your hand down the length of his spine and watching him nod fiercely, grin spread from cheek to cheek.

"I promise, I've never felt better."

***

If you enjoyed this please check out my Bloodhounds master list for more Gun Woo 💗

[hannahbarberra162]

Long Forgotten Fairytale Ch. 3 (soft Yan Shamrock x Reader)

On Ao3

The previous chapters

Note: Some gore mentioned though not described in great detail.

Also Reader would have been branded much earlier but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Also I’m going to age them to 18 in the next one, last chapter as kids I promise.

Thank you to @sordidmusings and @gouraminnow for beta'ing and giving me their comments, suggestions, and CC!

“Ah! I finally found it!” Shamrock yelled out with true excitement, jumping off the top of the library’s ladder to the tiled floor below. You were sitting on a stool, patiently awaiting his return as you watched the tiles crack under his feet as he landed. Padding over to you in his soft leather house shoes, Shamrock revealed to you the cover of the tome in his hands. You gave him a vacant smile as you looked at the book, still seated on the floor cushion.

“It is a written version of the same story you tell me at night. I believed we had a copy and I was finally able to locate it,” he stated proudly, opening the book to show some of the pictures within. Your smile faded slightly but you continued waiting for his extrapolation. Shamrock titled his head as he watched you nibble your lower lip.

“Why does the book upset you?” Shamrock asked, as you brought yourself back to a neutral facial expression.

“It does not upset-”

“Enough.” Shamrock waited a few moments in silence, allowing his presence to discomfort you. After about a minute you bit your lips again and wrung your hands. By the second, you began speaking.

“If Young Master reads the book, my services in storytelling will no longer be required,” you said in a near whisper. Shamrock softened his face as you took in a shaky breath in response to his regained composure. As he gave you an indulgent look, you relaxed slightly into the cushion. 

“Are you saying you enjoy the time spent with me at night?” Shamrock teased in a dry tone. Your face flushed deep with color as you studied the tile beneath his feet. “Read me the book and we’ll see how they compare. There’s no book that can win against your stories,” he said while sitting on the couch nearest you. He wasn’t sure why his attitude was so personal that day but he chalked it up to his excitement. After handing you the book, he laid down on the couch, his boots dirtying the fine purple silk with the mud still caked on them from the morning’s practice. You sat quietly, not speaking or reading.

“Well? Begin,” Shamrock snapped as he closed his eyes, idly jiggling a foot in the air. What was taking you so long?

“I cannot, Young Master,” you said in a hushed tone. Shamrock frowned and opened his eyes. ‘Cannot’ was not something you’d ever said to him before and not something he wanted to hear now. Further annoyed, Shamrock sat upright and swung his feet over the side of the couch. He glanced down to see you staring at the cover of the book, tracing your finger over the letters of the title. Ah. Right. 

Shamrock wanted you to recite the book to him but slaves weren’t allowed to learn how to read. He quickly thought through solutions to the problem - you were intelligent, much better than he was at mathematics if he was being honest, and you picked up skills easily. And really, why shouldn’t he do what he wanted and teach you to read? He was a Celestial Dragon - he made the rules and society followed. If you were literate, it would be much more convenient for him, which is really all he cared about.  There had been quite a few occasions when he’d wanted you to fetch him books or labeled jars and you hadn’t been able to discern which ones he meant immediately. If there was something Shamrock hated, it was being inconvenienced.

Really, it would make much more sense for you to be able to read. It would be preposterous for regular slaves to be able to read but you were in a completely different situation. You were his personal slave, his property that he could do with as he wanted. And he wanted you to read to him, so you would. He didn’t know how to teach someone to read but you’d pick it up quickly, he was sure. Perhaps you’d finally learn something from him, instead of the other way around like in mathematics lessons.

Matter settled in his mind, Shamrock lay back down on the couch and snapped his fingers so you moved closer to him. He took the book from your offering hands, cracked it open and put his finger on the first word. Clearing his throat, he began to read aloud.

“Once upon a time, in a far off land” he began, articulating each word carefully. He kept his finger on the word that he was reading, but you were studiously looking at your lap. “You’re not listening. Pay attention. You know how I feel about repeating myself,” he chided, tugging on your hair gently. You turned to watch as he started again at the beginning, his finger tracking the word he was reading. He read for half an hour before he grew weary of the book and stopped for the day. “We will pick back up tomorrow after my practice. Did you notice how they omitted all the fine details you include about the Beast’s castle? Your version is clearly superior,” Shamrock stated with a sniff, slamming the book shut between his hands.

By the end of the second week you were slowly reading to him at bedtime, your finger now trailing across the words on each page. It was a long ordeal but it didn’t bother Shamrock as much as he thought it would. He laid in his bed patiently, gently corrected you on more challenging words after allowing you several stuttering attempts in your lilting voice. 

Shamrock started keeping several books in his chambers, eventually necessitating a bookshelf. He didn’t know and didn’t care what happened to the books in his absence, though he did periodically have new books brought in once they stopped moving around on the shelves. 

Shamrock didn’t worry about anyone finding out you could read. He’d been taking haki lessons from a fishman slave who had been bought for the sole purpose of Shamrock’s education. He’d practiced his observation haki by trying to locate you throughout the castle, finding you an excellent means of focusing on the endeavor. He had learned of a third type of haki, Conqueror’s, and based on his lineage factor he was sure he would be able to unlock it soon. But as long as he had observation haki, he’d know if anyone tried to approach you without his knowledge. Even Father.

~

Shamrock’s 15th birthday was on the horizon but he wasn’t all that excited for the day to arrive. As a child, thought of his upcoming birthday would fill him with glee as he anticipated all the presents he’d be getting and the various celebrations about the household. But this year he didn’t care to think about any of that foolishness - none of it sparked joy within him. Of course, he still wanted the fancy gifts promised to him- a new sword that had eaten a devil fruit, new longer boots, new slaves, all things that should make a 15 year old excited. And he did want those things, especially the sword. But instead of looking forward to the merriment, Shamrock found himself thinking about your looming branding.

Slaves didn’t have birthdays, but they did receive their branding as they came of age. In your case, you’d started to turn into a woman - and a pretty one at that. No one dared attempt anything in his presence, but Shamrock saw the way heads turned as you passed by, the way the male servants would shove each other in the ribs behind your back. It was grotesque and unsightly but Shamrock understood that human nature meant others would find you attractive, even though you were a slave.

You needed to be branded as all slaves were; it would likely happen around his own birthday. He couldn’t trust someone else with the task of marring your skin - he’d seen some of the ghastly burns on slaves who’d had careless servants brand them. Some were lopsided or uneven, and some slaves were branded twice if the first time was particularly illegible. And really, if you were caused injury or harm, he’d have to wait longer for your recovery and that would ruin the tournament he was participating in within the next few weeks. Really, it wouldn’t be best if the brutes in charge of branding did yours, he decided.

It soured Shamrock’s stomach to think of your soft, even skin being ruined by such an ugly marking. He didn’t mind the hoof on the other slaves but on your body it needed to be done with consideration to the flow of your form. Shamrock couldn’t imagine looking at a lopsided brand on your body for the rest of his life. And really, why should he? As his property, it was his right to ensure that your brand turned out as best it could. There was no way around it, even you as his personal slave needed to be branded, but he could ensure it wasn’t completely ghastly. No, Shamrock needed this done correctly and most importantly, once . Which meant that he needed to do it himself. 

After a few days of research and gathering supplies, Shamrock was prepared for the endeavor. One night, he sat in front of the fire with his hands steepled as he awaited your return with his night tea. Despite the fact that you entered his chambers silently, Shamrock was aware of your presence as he was always attuned to you. You approached him calmly, the tray in your hands carrying his favorite tea and nighttime snacks as well as a few others. He’d asked for more than normal, your arms straining under the weight of the plates of food, drinks, and the bucket of ice he’d asked for. You’d be needing food in the coming hours and Shamrock didn’t want to have to send for it afterwards.

“Set it over there, I do not wish for it yet,” he said, continuing to stare into the fire. You walked along obediently, setting the tray down by his bedside. Returning to his side, you sat on the cushion at his feet, readying yourself for his next command. 

“Some things in life are necessary, even for one such as myself,” Shamrock began, unsure how to broach the topic. He didn’t need to explain anything to you, you were merely a slave, but he thought the process might go more smoothly if you weren’t panicked. You weren’t prone to outward displays of emotions, it was something that had been tamed out of you long ago, but he still wished for you to know what would be coming. 

“It is time for your branding,” Shamrock stated, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward on his elbows. He kept his gaze trained on the fire in front of him as he heard no sounds from you. The eyes roved over the brand currently in the fire, the red hot metal glowing like the embers it was set in. 

“Take off your dress and lay on the rug,” he stated with no hint of emotion in his tone. Your face was ashen as your shaking fingers grasped the hem of your dress. Still, you took off your dress overhead and laid on the floor noiselessly as he’d ordered you to do. Shamrock belatedly realized he’d never seen your figure in so few clothes, but perusing your body was not on his mind at the moment. You shook in your simple undergarments as you lay on your stomach in front of the fire. 

“I will make this as efficient as possible,” he continued, gathering the supplies he’d ordered brought to his chambers. Shamrock had taken the care to have another slave bring him the items - he didn’t want to frighten you or have you dwelling on the procedure before the time for the branding arose.  

Shamrock grabbed the rubbing alcohol along with a clean cloth and debated how to proceed. He’d never touched your skin directly before, he’d always worn gloves in the few times that he’d needed to touch you. But the guide he’d read said that he needed to use clean hands on clean skin otherwise the risk of infection grew exponentially. You wouldn’t be able to reach the area that he wanted to brand with your own hands; Shamrock was going to have to disinfect your skin. 

Pouring some of the alcohol onto the cloth, Shamrock moved your brassiere strap out of the way and rubbed the cool liquid on your shoulder blade. He thought that it would be the least obtrusive place for your brand, something he wouldn’t have to see daily. You jumped at the touch of the cloth, perhaps mistaking it for the brand. Your skin prickled under his ministrations, much like his own did in the cold. It was soft under his fingertips, softer than his own. A sudden urge had Shamrock placing his hand on the lowest part of your back near your spine to calm your tremors. He idly wondered if you always felt like this, cold and prickly, or perhaps it was just the effect of the upcoming procedure.

Returning his thoughts to the matter at hand, Shamrock stood and walked over to the fireplace, clutching the handle of the poker within his steady hand. Shamrock’s heart was beating furiously as he removed the brand from the fire. He’d had a new brand made just for you - it was smaller than the one normally used so instead of the bulky thick lines used on the rest of the slaves, you’d have one with the thinnest possible outline. He’d ensured the circle was not filled in so that in the middle of the hoof there was room for a four leafed clover. It would be clear to everyone just who you belonged to - who you served body and soul. 

After removing the brand from the fire, Shamrock turned to face your nearly nude body. Your lips were pressed together and your eyes squeezed shut, your hands balled into the carpet by your head. You reminded him of a frightened rabbit Shamrock had recently caught during one of his hunts. His dogs had chased it down and were going to rend it to pieces before Shamrock stopped them with a whistled command. To destroy such a pitiful thing didn’t bring any emotions of joy or satisfaction, and you were no exception.

Shamrock turned the brand so it was oriented the correct direction, looming over you to begin the process. And yet, he hesitated . Shamrock set the brand back in the fire as you anticipated the pain, sweat glistening on your forehead. He..he…he couldn’t bear to harm you, not like this. He wanted you asleep, kept safe from the feeling of your own flesh burning under his hand. Shamrock wanted to stop this process, but the only protection he could offer is if you weren’t able to feel it at all. 

It had to be done, it had to be done, it had to be done, it had to be done , he repeated in his mind, trying to use the mantra to crowd out the panic seeping through the cracks. It felt like he could feel your heartbeat, the heartbeat of the fire, of the stones, the walls, the brand, his own, all merging into one.

He stared down at you, feeling something swelling inside himself as you squeaked in discomfort and moved your limbs sluggishly. It had to be done, it had to be done, it had to be done, it had to be done…your face contorted in pain, you crying out for him, your skin cracking peeling blistering bleeding, it had to be done, it had to be done…

A blast of red haki emanated from him - the bright red charge striking you in the chest. You immediately went limp on the carpet, though Shamrock could see your chest rising and falling. Picking up the brand, he quickly stamped it onto your left shoulder blade and marked you, the smell of your burning flesh seared into his mind. You were his.

Forever.

Shamrock hadn’t been asking you to do much for him in the past few days, instead ordering other slaves and servants to bring him what he needed as you recovered. He’d seen other slaves sent back to work immediately after their branding, their skin still boiling and blistering, but he didn’t want that for you. If the brand became infected it would take even longer for you to heal and he’d continue to suffer under the incompetence of other servants. It was barely tolerable to have to check on you throughout the day in your room as you napped or read books on your bed. 

As you were not around to bring his meals, they were left in his chambers. Shamrock would eat his fill and leave the rest on the plates once done, servants ordered not to come in for an hour after his meals. By the time they came in, the food was completely gone. If anyone noticed he was ordering double the amount of food he normally did, they didn’t say anything. 

Overall, you were healing quickly, Shamrock thought. He changed your bandage and applied salve to your back as well, but that was only because you couldn’t reach the spot yourself. He took care to carefully remove the gauze covering the oozing wound and inspect it daily, as the book recommended. Though he didn’t like that the wound was on your body, he’d done a fine job, he thought. 

Shamrock was lost in his thoughts about the red haki from the night of the branding as he passed by an open doorway. Servants were within, speaking with one another, hardly a notable occurrence. However, he heard your name being spoken in soft tones so he stopped to listen into the conversation. Derisive laughter had him reaching for his sword. 

“-seen how she’s lookin’ these days. Few more years and that’s a woman I’d take to bed. Or against a wall,” a male voice said with another grunt of laughter. Shamrock’s hand tightened on the pommel of his sword as he listened closely. 

“You better act fast, aboutta have more red haired bastards running around the place soon the way he acts with her,” another voice sneered quietly as the first laughed.��

No sooner than the laugh rang out than the first speaker’s head was on the floor, blood spurting from his now decapitated body. The head rolled towards Shamrock, the cranium crushing easily like a fall gourd under the heel of his boot. Shamrock looked the remaining servant in the eyes as he stood frozen, mouth agape. No sounds were heard except the dull thud of a now headless body slumping to the floor and the gush of brain under Shamrock’s boot as he ground the skull into the floor.

Shamrock turned his body fully toward the servant, who cowered and covered his face with his hands in an attempt to protect his own neck. “Never speak of her,” Shamrock ordered calmly, seeing no need to yell. His message heard, Shamrock turned and left, his boots tracking the blood pooling out from the dead servant. 

His heels clacked along the floor as Shamrock rolled his eyes. Great , Shamrock thought, now he’d have to change his boots before he returned to his room. You didn’t like cleaning blood off of them.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @rebeccawinters @sanjisleggy @nerium-lil @unwillingstars @ceramic-raven @retardhaven @srisshh @yunheadlings

[itadores]

note: just finished watching season one of wind breaker ^_^

pairing: sakura haruka x gender neutral reader

tags: gender neutral reader, fluff

sakura thinks you’re out to get him.

scratch that, he knows you’re out to get him. there’s no other explanation for why you would call him such things if you weren’t trying to kill him.

“baby, what do you think of this?”

the tips of sakura’s ears go scarlet at the pet name. it’s nowhere near the first time you called him something like that, but he finds it overwhelming all the same.

it takes all of his willpower to look your way and muster up a response.

you’re holding a fitted t-shirt up to your body, gaze cast downward at the item of clothing until you feel sakura’s eyes on you. he freezes when you lift your head and give him an expectant look, waiting for his reply.

“nice,” sakura manages to get out.

you pout.

“if it’s just nice then i shouldn’t get it,” you sigh, folding the t-shirt before getting ready to place it back where you found it.

sakura scrambles for the right words.

“i mean, you’d look good in anything.”

you pause. the t-shirt hangs limp in your hands. you turn your head towards sakura, looking strangely serious, and he wonders if he said the wrong thing.

“i didn’t know you were such a smooth talker, haruka,” you say, your expression transforming into one of utter delight.

sakura’s face becomes engulfed in flames immediately.

there’s a lot of things that sakura still hasn’t gotten used to being in a relationship, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to how easily his given name flows off your tongue. he doesn’t understand how you’re able to call him such things like his given name or the numerous pet names you like to use without even batting an eye. it took so long for sakura to even feel comfortable enough to call you by your surname.

the feeling of you touching sakura pulls him out of his thoughts.

you’ve looped your arm through his, already dragging him out of the clothing store when he comes into awareness.

“you don’t want that shirt?” sakura tries to get you to slow down, but you’re surprisingly strong when you want to be.

“not really. i just wanted to look around.”

sakura stiffens when you lean into him a little more heavily before relaxing into your touch.

“thanks for entertaining me, babe.”

sakura has to fight the blush that threatens to crawl up from under his collar. he clears his throat to try and regain his composure.

“it’s no problem,” he mutters, looking away from you.

although sakura doesn’t know how you’re able to say such embarrassing things so easily, he hopes that you continue doing so. he won’t admit it to you, he can barely admit it to himself, but he likes it when you call him pet names or his given name.

even if it makes him blush every time.

[xhmeusworld]

keep on the sunny side | lee jihoon

genre: paramedic! jihoon, single parent! reader, fluff

pairings: lee jihoon x gender neutral reader

warnings: seizures, child injury, medical terms (not a lot but some), jihoon does cpr

word count: 1.7k

note: okay so i work in a hospital and i love paramedics so paramedic jihoon was born. i may return back to this idea if you guys were like me too :)

lee jihoon wasn’t the type that expressed his emotions freely. it wasn’t that he didn’t feel them. truly, he felt everything deeply.

anger, sadness, excitement. they consumed his very existence, but in his line of work, it was just easier to pretend that he felt nothing. it was easier to get through the day if he remained as stoic as possible.

his coworkers often questioned him about the front he created. did seeing sickness and death 24/7 not affect him at all? how could he move from a fatality call to a car accident without even showing a hint of grief? only his partner, a boy named minghao, understood that jihoon was indeed deeply affected by the things he encountered.

so deeply affected that the only thing he could do to survive was to shove the feelings deep inside, not allowing them to resurface.

however, there’s one thing he always remembers.

eight.

that’s how many children jihoon had lost in his career.

it was honestly rare that he and minghao received calls involving children. it had been a couple of years since the last one, but the universe seemed to decide that tonight was the night to reset the cycle.

the call came in around two in the morning. jihoon never heard the 911 call itself or read the transcript. the information was just relied to him and minghao in an urgent manner and then they were off.

the ride would have been peaceful if jihoon wasn’t on duty. the streets were empty, the stores were closed. everything was at peace.

that was until the sound of sirens cut through the night, ruining and disturbing any sense of tranquility that had existed.

unit 205, we have a five-year old male unresponsive as a result of a grand-mal seizure. there has been documented history of cerebral palsy since birth, but his mother reports no history of seizures prior.

when minghao and jihoon reached the scene, racing up to the apartment number that given to them by dispatch, jihoon only had one thought in his mind.

please don’t let this be number nine.

jihoon didn’t even have time after he knocked on apartment 24 to ask questions because as soon as the door flew open, he immediately knew that he and minghao needed to act. now.

a five-year old boy was on the living room floor, convulsing. a dark blue guardian helmet covered what appeared to be his unruly black hair and jihoon breathed a sigh of relief that at least there was no possibility of head trauma.

“i- i don’t know what happened,” you stuttered out. “noori just woke up and we were sitting on the couch together and he started having a seizure. he’s never had one before!” a sob escaped your lips. “please, you have to save my baby. he’s all I have!”

minghao and jihoon quickly got to work to administer diazepam, which was meant to immediately stop the seizure. jihoon hated using diazepam as it had to be used rectally and he thought it took all respect away from the patient, but he had no other choice as a result of the boy’s unconscious state.

jihoon rolled the young boy into his side as gently as he could muster in a hurry as minghao carefully gave the diazepam. thankfully, it worked like it was supposed to and the boy’s muscles instantly relaxed.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, but jihoon knew it was too soon to start celebrating. he was proven right when minghao searched for a pulse.

“he’s not breathing! start compressions!”

without hesitation, jihoon pressed his hands into the little boy’s chest, counting the all too familiar numbers out, his voice sounding exhausted. “1, 2, 3… he tried to ignore the sickening crack that sounded, signaling that he had broken the boy’s ribs.

“come on, noori, breathe for me,” the dark-haired boy begged, hitting thirty and stopping the compressions as minghao yelled “hold!” his partner’s fingers reached out to feel for a pulse. “start again!”

jihoon resumed his position. “1, 2, 3…” he tried to ignore the cries from you who was currently being consoled by the other paramedics who had just arrived as backup.

strands of his dark hair fell out of his small ponytail, covering his face and he cursed over the fact that he hadn’t found the time to get a much needed haircut.

“hold!” jihoon paused the compressions. “resume, no pulse!”

starting the third set of compressions caused a huge sense of panic to run through lee jihoon. most child patients responded by the second set and here he was on number ten of a third.

all he could repeat was please don’t be number nine.

“jihoon, i think we have to call it,” minghao spoke, quietly, hoping to god you didn’t hear him over the other paramedics. “his heart isn’t beating.”

one word popped into jihoon’s mind.

no.

and he kept going.

and thank god he did because almost if the young boy knew that he was about to ruled dead, his eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath.

“noori, my son, my sweet boy,” you cried as jihoon finally relaxed his tense muscles.

he did it. lee jihoon didn’t reach number nine.

•••

months had passed since jihoon and minghao loaded the young boy and you into an ambulance. you had your entire attention on your son as to be expected, but as jihoon monitored noori’s vitals and ensured the seizures were not going to resume, he had to force himself to not look at your face.

the dark-haired boy thought you were one of the most beautiful human beings he had ever seen and the pure love you had for your child made jihoon even more attracted to you. he attempted to shove the thoughts into the back of his mind as best as he could.

he was doing his job. that was it.

and that’s what he kept telling himself even as he sat staring at his computer at his local coffee shop.

jihoon had decided to take a day off to get caught up on necessary tasks he could do remotely. he had completed most of everything he needed to do, but his thoughts were so tangled with you that he didn’t even notice that someone was stumbling toward him until he felt weight in his lap.

he looked down to see a familiar sweet face.

“oh my god, I’m sorry! normally, he doesn’t just run up to new people and oh-“ recognition dawned on the your face as jihoon watched you take in his features.

the dark-haired boy smiled as he patted the head of the boy who was lying across his lap. “it’s nice to see you again.” noori’s guardian helmet dug into jihoon’s thighs. it did not feel pleasant and he was sure there were going to be bruises covering him tomorrow, but he didn’t mind. this boy had touched his heart in many ways.

while he was aware that noori had survived and recovered days after he saved his life, jihoon couldn���t stop himself from thinking about not only the boy, but you as well. were you holding up okay? did the hospital provide you any resources to help with noori’s care since it was just you as the caretaker? how were you surviving everything on your own?

minghao teased him that he had a crush on you. jihoon insisted that he was just concerned, but now looking at you in the cafe and knowing that your son had formed an attachment to him as well, maybe his partner was right.

his heart was beating quick. his palms felt sweaty. and he desperately tried to ignore the utter joy that entered his heart when you beamed at him. him and your son.

“i thought after noori’s episode i wouldn’t see you again to thank you,” you explained. “you saved his life. you helped me keep my son and i didn’t know if i could reach out to you because HIPAA laws and-“

jihoon couldn’t control the the smile that crawled onto his face at your rambling. god, it was cute. you were cute.

“you don’t have to thank me at all,” he explained. “i was doing my job.” jihoon patted noori’s shoulder one more time as the young boy shifted awkwardly into a sitting position. “it looks like noori remembers who i am.”

you tucked your hair behind your ear, almost shyly. “yeah, once he was at the hospital, i don’t he understood that you were a paramedic. although he can’t talk, i could tell he wondered why you weren’t coming into his hospital room.”

noori slowly got to his feet, wobbling his way back to you, his guardian helmet resting against your thigh. almost instinctively, you wrapped your arm around him.

“well, i would have checked on him but once you guys were out of my care, I didn’t have any information to find where you guys went,” jihoon stated, shutting his laptop. “but i’m glad I get to see you guys now.”

you grinned. “we’re glad to see you too, jihoon.”

you knew his name? he was going to die.

“and i absolutely hate to cut this conversation short, but noori has a doctors appointment in about half an hour and we should start heading that way.”

jihoon nodded, his brain turning into a thousand of circles. he didn’t want you to leave. “oh okay. maybe I’ll see you around?”

“yeah, maybe.” there’s your cute smile again. “bye, jihoon.”

“bye y/n. bye noori.”

you started toward the exit to the coffee shop something in jihoon’s mind told him that he couldn’t let you walk away. he absolutely couldn’t and before he knew it, he was on his feet.

lee jihoon wasn’t the type that went for what he wanted. it was easier to just let things happen naturally. no point in interfering with the universe. if didn’t happen without him doing anything, then it wasn’t meant to be.

but you were different. he knew you were different and he couldn’t just let you and your son walk out the door.

“hey, y/n, wait!”

you jumped at the sound of jihoon’s voice, your hand tightening around noori’s. your other hand pressed against the door of the coffee shop, holding it open. you were shocked by the boy racing up to you and the only word that seemed to leave your mouth was “yes?”

now that jihoon had your attention, his courage was almost completely gone. what if you said no? what if you laughed in his face? he was just a paramedic. you weren’t obligated to tell him yes just because he saved your son’s life.

the dark-haired boy awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he studied your face, looking for any sign of discomfort.

“um, uh- would you like to go on a date sometime?”

[skelletonscloset]

simon x sick!reader

wc— 973

cw— sick fic!! reader is gender neutral. emetophobia warning!! > mention of throwing up. simon being a good boyfriend.

a/n— this is my first official addition to this page!! i’m still getting used to this whole “writing and posting” thing, so i’d love feedback and constructive criticism :3 enjoy!!

your body felt hot. the weight of your sheets on top of you was all you could feel aside from the way your eyes felt glued shut and how your clothes stuck uncomfortably to your back.

the past few days you knew you were starting to catch something, a few sneezes there and a small headache there — but you’d never guess you’d start to feel this bad.

now, it’s not like you were running to the bathroom and hurling the remains of your dinner from the past night into the toilet bowl, no. however, you did feel like the inside of your throat was being clawed at by a very angry cat and your mouth was dry from not being able to breathe clearly from your nose.

forcing your eyes open, you groan as you stir from your warm and slightly damp spot of the bed, your eyes adjusting to your dark room. you lick your lips, attempting to bring back some moisture, but they dried up again almost immediately.

“ugh… si?” you groan, looking to his side of the bed where he was. well, where he would be. you blinked your eyes, lifting your hand and placing it in his spot and feeling the warmth of his body that was left behind. huh.

you peered at the alarm clock on your nightstand. 2:41 am.

“si?” you weakly called out again, your nasally voice ringing throughout your shared bedroom. a few moments pass before you hear the heavy padding of feet approaching, a muscular forearm gently nudging the door open.

simon’s dark silhouette walked in, a mug of something in hand and a thermometer in the other. he shuffled closer, setting the mug down on the nightstand and turning on the small lamp next to the edge.

the lamp illuminated his dark eyes, which shifted from the thermometer’s buttons to you after turning it on. his short, blond locks were tousled from sleep, scratching the scruff on his jaw.

“woke up a couple minutes ago. felt ya’ start to get hot,” he grunted, holding the thermometer up to your forehead as he took your temperature. after the beep, he squinted, reading back your temperature in his gruff voice.

“99.8” he stated, setting the thermometer down and sitting on the edge of the bed, rugged body slightly facing you as one leg folded onto the sheets and the other hung off the bed.

“nothing too bad, yet.”

coaxing you to sit up, he carefully brings the cup of tea towards you, pausing when your hands don’t come up to take it. he looks up at you, watching you eye the steaming cup suspiciously. he sighs

“yes, it has enough honey.” he clarifies, watching your expression relax. he held his hand beneath yours as you took hold of the mug, softly blowing on it before you took a sip.

you hummed in satisfaction, affirming his words. “thank you, si,” you murmured, “but aren’t you going to get sick too?”

“don’t worry about that, lovie. focus on you gettin’ better,” his voice rumbled. you took a few more sips of the tea, soothing your throat little by little, before deciding you were too sweaty to finish it.

you handed the mug to him before coughing into your elbow, trying to clear out the feeling of glass in your throat but failing.

“i’m so sweaty…” you groan, watching as simon automatically puts the mug down and gets up, moving to the closet as he looks for something lighter for you to wear.

he’s back within a few seconds, one of his large t-shirts in hand and a pair of sleep shorts just in case.

“up,” he nudges your arms, helping you take off your long sleeve shirt which was slightly cold with your sweat. tossing it to the side, he rolled up the other shirt, gingerly slipping the sleeves down your arms as his shirt draped across your form.

“shorts?” he asked, noting how you already weren’t wearing pants, opting to sleep in your underwear instead. when you shook your head, he walked to the closet once more, putting the shorts away and your shirt in the hamper.

“thank you, si,” you whispered tiredly.

“none of that. need anything else? some water?”

“yes, please”

he walked out of the room.

you wondered how you ended up with such a caring man as your boyfriend. he’s practically a mind reader at this point. you looked down, eyeing the shirt he picked out for you. it was an old shirt of his, one he used to wear frequently before he became a part of your life.

the shirt was a dark gray, small holes between the seams of the sleeves. it was your favorite one, hence how worn out it was. you took the soft fabric in your hands, bringing it up to smell the familiar scent.

simon walks back into the room with a fresh glass of water, noticing you. he gently tuts to himself, setting the glass next to the mug he had forgotten to take to the kitchen with him.

he plopped back into your shared bed, your body falling towards him as the bed shifted from his weight. settling the sheets over his lower half, he handed you the glass of water, waiting patiently for you to be finished. when you were, he set the glass back down, the two of you getting comfortable once more.

he subconsciously brought you towards him as you lied back down, his strong arm pulling you into his broad, clothed chest. you sighed again, breathing him in as you tried to forget about the oncoming congestion you felt. your hand settled on his waist, your legs entangled with his.

“i love you, simon.” you exhaled, closing your eyes once more.

“love you too, sweetheart,” he grumbled into your hair.

maybe getting sick wasn’t gonna be so bad after all.

~🧸

[hallayaps]

Hallo :D

Can I please request either Itto, Kaveh or Alhaitham (you can choose since idk what characters you like writing and i love them all) with a reader who was injured in battle with them. <3

Requests are always open ^^

Hallo :D

You requested either but i couldn't help but to do them all lol, the ask wasn't detailed so i took the liberty, enjoy !

Notes: reader is gender neutral, has a hydro vision and is a blue oni due to recessive genes and all in ittos part, reader knows both kaveh and alhaitham from the academia in their separate parts and is a researcher for the academia AND is roommates with kaveh and alhaitham but they come and go because they go all around teyvat... Blablabla let's get started (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠).

English isn't my first language, characters aren't lovers yet but it takes that route somehow,

:3

ITTO

Inazuma's sky was a tapestry of darkening hues, with the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the vibrant landscape.

You had recently arrived in Inazuma, seeking to understand more about your heritage as a blue oni after going and tracking your family lineage and figuring out Inazuma could be a good head start.

To your luck (?) you met Yae Miko and she took interest in you because of your unique looks that people don't see everyday, or at least these present times they don't, with her sly smile, suggested you meet Arataki Itto, as she explained that he leads a gang and all you were visibly concerned as he seemed troublesome but when she mentioned he was a fellow oni you somewhat relaxed and understood why him exactly.

The meeting was nothing short of electrifying. Itto’s enthusiasm was infectious, and he immediately took you under his wing, thrilled to have found another oni, he talked and talked, bragged about his horns and compared them to yours.

And as you walked through the streets of Inazuma, Itto regaled you with tales of his adventures and avoided his misadventures but clearly he was a very bad liar, you two passed time and he decided he totally had to introduce you to his gang, so y'all began looking for them here and there.

But the evening took a sudden turn when you encountered a group of Abyss Order members. Itto, always eager for a fight, drew his weapon with a grin. You summoned your Hydro vision, water swirling around you as you prepared to defend yourself.

The battle was fierce, the Abyss mages casting dark spells while you and Itto fought back with ferocity. In the midst of the chaos, a mage’s attack broke through your defenses, especially that you were trying to focus on your charged attack, the mage came through and as he was using the electro element it caused a reaction between you two and as much as you protected the side of your stomach was hurt badly, pain eating all your senses and crushing your stability, you fell into the ground holding where you were hurt while trying to recover fast before anything more happened.

“No!” Itto screamed as he was fighting the abyss Heralds , filled with rage and concern. He charged forward, dispatching the remaining enemies with a flurry of powerful serious blows on the contrary of his nature. When the last of the Abyss Order was defeated, he rushed to your side, worry etched on his face, his joyous usual unserious expression wiped of his face, he held your face looking for traces of life on it, and then he averted his gaze down where your holding yourself as he pushed your arms aside softly he saw the bruising and he felt a mix of complex emotions such as fury and worry and sadness.

“Hang in there, buddy,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time.” he tried to smile to encourage you, he helped you get up but seeing how unstable you were although you were persistent on being okay, he lifted you in his arms in bridal style.

Itto carried you back to the city, his strength making the journey swift. He took you to a healer, staying by your side as they treated your wounds. Despite the pain, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging, knowing that you had a friend who would protect you no matter what, but at the same time you contemplated whether to ask the healer about the strange beating in your heart, but that wasn't a thing until Itto touched your face softly and it increased when he lifted you, is something wrong and is it because of the injury or what?

You wondered, you seemed out of it so he called out "you with us buddy?" As you came back to reality you looked at him bashfully as you cursed yourself at your strange actions right now, but you decided to brush it off.

"yeah, I'm okay don't worry"

;)

Alhaitham

The Akademiya was a distant memory, but its shadows still lingered in your life. You and Alhaitham had grown from rivals to reluctant allies, as y'all grew up and see it all as a silly past and just your time as teenagers, now sharing an apartment in Sumeru, y'all were close... Very close and everyone noticed that but only you two seemed oblivious that y'all acted like a married couple most of the time. Your role as a researcher kept you constantly on the move, and Alhaitham often joined you on these expeditions, his knowledge and analytical mind proving invaluable, you guys lived together because you didn't see a need to get a whole apartment for yourself if you're constantly here and there, and alhaitham didn't mind your company. He totally doesn't enjoy you being around and hopes for your researching to be in semuru most of the time, ooh you totally don't make his house feel like a home in addition to kaveh :P.

Once, his deep dark (?) wishes totally did become true and you were doing your job in semuru, surprisingly he was reading books in that field and decided to accompany you, according to him he has to see if the contenf of the books was reliable because they were old and there was little to no knowledge capsules about it, such journey led you deep into the Sumeru rainforest, where you were investigating the unique properties of the local flora. Alhaitham was beside you, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos of the jungle. As you meticulously cataloged your findings, an ominous rustling drew your attention.

Without warning, a band of treasure hoarders emerged, eyes gleaming with greed. They had heard rumors of your discoveries and wanted them for themselves, seeing them hurling in your direction Alhaitham reacted instantly, his Dendro vision activating as he created barriers to protect you both.

The fight was intense, with the treasure hoarders pressing their advantage. You used your Hydro vision to fend them off, and although it was a great combanation with alhaithams and created hyper blooms, they outnumbered y'all and only focused on you as a target so it was significantly hard to keep up, a well-aimed strike from a hoarder’s blade found its mark, cutting through your defenses and leaving a deep gash on your arm.

Alhaitham’s expression darkened, his usually composed features although he's not very expressive a visible fury was taking over his face, and instead of defences he harshly attacked. He dispatched the attackers with a series of precise, devastating blows. When the last of them lay defeated, he turned to you, his hands gentle as he inspected your wound.

“You should have been more careful,” he said, his voice tinged with a rare softness. “We need to get you treated immediately. Let's take you to tighnari and see what we can do, he's surely around the corner”

Despite the pain, you managed a weak smile. “You sound like you care.”

Alhaitham rolled his eyes, but his concern was evident. “Of course, I care. Let’s get back to the city.” he stopped your bleeding by wrapping a cloth tightly around your injured arm and in one swift motion he lifted you as if you were weightless.

The journey back was a blur, with Alhaitham supporting you every step of the way. Arriving at tighnari's, he meticulously treated your injury, alhaitham joining for help and to support you during the quick operation, his hands steady and sure. As you rested, you realized that beneath his aloof exterior, Alhaitham truly cared for you, a bond forged in the fires of shared adversity. You felt a blush coming and blooming in your cheeks and as the two showed concern you played it off ”ah, probably a fever, maybe that blade was infected?” but you shouldn't have said that, as now tighnari is going to run more tests and alhaitham is gonna be close for a longer time.

Or maybe it was for the best?

;)

kaveh

Life with Kaveh was never dull. The architect’s passion for his work often led him into interesting—and sometimes dangerous—situations. You, once rivals in the Akademiya, had grown close, now sharing an apartment (under the "mercy" of alhaitham) and frequently crossing paths in your respective careers, you were a researcher, and as one of kavehs greatest and closest friends, that only know about his living situation with alhaitham as you were the same although you payed your rent.

You often inspired him, by your findings and your journeys, you were like an long time open book helping him to never run out from inspiration, and in return he'd share his thoughts on the riddles and the origins of your findings, analyzing the patterns and all, and although y'all could just somehow catch alhaitham in a good mood and free and ask him, it was way fun and it was a great route of passing time.

One day, Kaveh was commissioned to deliver a custom design to a client in the bustling city of Port Ormos. Ever the perfectionist, he had poured his heart into the project, and you decided to accompany him for support. The sun was setting as you arrived at the meeting point, a shadowy alley that immediately put you on edge. You clenched your fist just in case, as your other hand held your sword in a way that wasn't visible for the other party, your vision dimly illuminating that Alley.

As Kaveh presented his work, the supposed clients revealed their true intentions. They were scammers, seeking to steal his designs and leave him empty-handed. Before he could react, they attacked, intent on taking everything.

Kaveh fought back with surprising tenacity, using his knowledge to his advantage in his fighting style. You summoned your Hydro vision, creating barriers of water to protect him. But in the chaos, and in your focus on their target, your dear friend, one of the scammers landed a blow on you instead, as they didn't care for who is the actual target and with who they were doing business, leaving you wounded.

“No!” Kaveh shouted, his eyes wide with fear and anger. He knocked the assailant away, his normally gentle demeanor replaced by fierce determination. “You’ll regret this!”

With a final, desperate push, you and Kaveh drove the scammers off. Panting and bloodied, Kaveh rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he checked your wound. “You’re hurt… I should have been more careful.”

“It’s not your fault,” you reassured him, wincing as pain flared. “We need to get back and treat this.” he said.

Kaveh helped you to your feet, his support unwavering as you made your way back to the city. Once home, he carefully tended to your injury, his touch filled with guilt and concern. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “I never wanted you to get hurt because of me.”

You reached out, taking his hand. “We’ve been through worse, Kaveh. I’m just glad we’re both okay.” you smiled lightly to reassure him, the injury wasn't that bad but he clearly felt guilty as he thought it was all because of him.

As the night wore on, the pain faded, replaced by the comforting presence of your very close friend. Kaveh’s usual cheer slowly returned, his worry giving way to relief. In that moment, you quietly admired him, how his hair framed his face ever so perfectly, how he smiled and reacted to alhaithams teasing, and how he gently tended to your needs and how soft his touch was on your skin, it seems like you're yet to figure out why you became so aware of everything concerning him, and the weird pace your heart is beating at, but you just thanked the dendro archon for the safety of everyone silently in your heart, as you tried to brush off the million thoughts that are running around in your head and took a glass of liquor to toast with your friends.

;)

Aurelia.

[ogatas-beloved]

We're the Same

Summary: Ogata questions Morgan about why it decided to kill its husband

Ships: Morgan x Ogata

Setting: Canon

Warnings: Abusive relationship, child death

Dividers

"Morgan."

Morgan turned at the sound of the voice to find Ogata standing in its doorway once again. He had been here quite often recently, Morgan smiled and nodded to him.

"Good morning, Mr. Ogata."

Ogata immediately began unbuttoning his uniform jacket, he peeled it off and tossed it into Morgan's hands, "I need it fixed."

"Oh, of course, sir," Morgan grinned mischievously, "I feel like I just did this for you not too long ago."

Ogata huffed, "Military's not exactly delicate work, what do you expect?"

"I expected you to throw your coat at me at least once a week," Morgan laughed, "I help the other soldiers here too, but I seem to see a whole lot of you in particular."

"Are you implying something here, Morgan?" His eyes narrowed as he watched Morgan take a seat on its bed and prepare to work.

"Oh, not at all, sir." Morgan replied with a smug smile still plastered across its features.

Ogata stood for a while longer, silently watching Morgan work. It seemed unbothered by his presence, by his eyes on it. He wasn't used to someone being so relaxed around him. He gently sat down beside Morgan on the bed, leaning in to get a closer look at its stitching.

"You're really good at that." He commented blankly.

Morgan didn't look up, simply nodded and carried on, "Yes, sir. My mother was a seamstress and she taught me everything she knew."

Ogata sighed and looked away, "You don't need to call me sir, or Mr. Just Ogata is fine."

Morgan smiled, "Oh, alright. Sorry if it bothered you, I'm just used to being formal with all the men in my life. It's a habit now, even if we're familiar."

"I'm not..." He paused, deciding not to finish that train of thought, "You were even like that with your husband?"

Moegan paused for a moment, he turned back to look at it, its hands were gripping the fabric tightly, its face was contorted in anger. And then like nothing had happened at all, it went back to sewing, expression neutral once again.

"Yes. He insisted on it."

He studied Morgan as it carried on with its work, looking for any more hints of such emotion, but he found none. His cold eyes fixated on the swift, skillful movement of its hands with the needle.

"...Can I ask you something?" He finally spoke.

"Hm. You seem to like doing that." Morgan noted.

"What?"

"Asking me questions while I fix your clothes for you. You seem to like it." Morgan explained.

Did he? He hadn't noticed. "Do I do it often?"

It nodded, "You do."

He thought for a moment before responding, "What did I ask you last time?"

"Hmm, last time... let me think..." It stopped, looking up, finger pressed to its mouth as it contemplated, "Oh, that's right. You asked if I knew anything about guns."

"I see..." He was silent again for a few moments, eyes following Morgan's movements again, "...What made you decide to kill him?"

Morgan was startled by the bluntness of the question, its eyes widened and it drew back from him, "Uh... that-... well, that certainly is, uh..."

He continued, "You said he beat you. But you tolerated the beatings for years before you did it. What made you decide he had to die instead of just running away? What was the final straw? That's what I want to know this time."

"You uh... you sure ask interesting questions, Ogata..." Morgan took a deep shaky breath in, "It wasn't... it wasn't the beatings."

"Then what was it?"

Morgan hesitated, looking at Ogata, he had the same blank expression as usual but somehow it felt so safe, it found peace in his dark, empty eyes.

"I... I was pregnant. But... I lost the baby." Morgan said, "It was how he acted after..."

"Will you tell me about it?" His hand slid over its, even if his face couldn't hold the same emotion, his touch was warm and comforting.

It nodded and closed its eyes, resting its hands on its thighs as it thought back to that day. It was so vivid in its memory, every detail. As much as it may have wanted to, it could never forget.

***

Morgan had been huddled up in bed for the past few days now, hardly able to walk. It didn't do much but curl up and sob, and when it wasn't doing that, it was sleeping, tossing and turning with nightmares. Michael had hardly looked at it in the past few days, let alone spoken to it. Morgan had instead been kept under the care of an old friend, Dr. Basil Grimoire, as well as Michael's servants.

This particular evening, Basil was sat at its bedside as it laid facing opposite the door, curled up into the fetal position, holding its stomach and sniffling. It heard the door to the bedroom creak open behind it and Basil looked up. It didn't need to ask, it could tell who it was by the look on Basil's face. But what could he want now, after ignoring its pain for the past three days?

"Will she be better in time for our trip?" His voice was cold and uncaring.

Basil scoffed, "In two days? No. Of course not."

He sighed in frustration, "Suppose I'll have to drag her along like that then."

"Excuse me?" Basil stood from his chair, teeth gritted and hands balled into fists at his side.

"You heard me," Morgan heard the floorboard creaking under his weight as he approached the side of the bed, "I will not be leaving my wife while I go to a foreign country."

"Your wife just gave birth a few days ago!" Basil snapped.

"And yet there is no child to show for it."

Morgan felt something snap inside of it when it heard that. No child to show for it? The way he said it was as if she had never existed at all. That was their daughter, no, Morgan's daughter. Only Morgan's daughter. Because it had been Morgan who had carried her tenderly in its own body all that time. Morgan who had nearly died to bring her into this world. Morgan, who had held her lifeless little body, swaddled in fabric. Morgan who had said goodbye, despite never really getting to say hello. And Morgan alone who had grieved the little life that never was.

When he had been told the news, he had come into the room and stood over Morgan's bed as it held its daughter in its arms. He regarded her with cold indifference. We will simply have to try again. That was all he had to say. All she was to him was a failed attempt.

Basil had been there too that day, and now here he was again, by Morgan's bedside, holding back his rage. His face twisted as he breathed raggedly, trying to calm himself down enough to speak, "Morgan is in no condition to travel."

"Well, I'm telling you she's going to."

"Pardon me, sir, but who's the medical professional here-"

Morgan sat up, putting its hand up to silence Basil, "Dr. Grimoire, please. It's fine." It turned to Michael shakily, "I'll go with you."

He nodded solemnly, "That's right. I know best, dear, I'm glad you're finally starting to learn that."

Morgan gritted its teeth and nodded, slowly sliding its feet over the side of the bed, "Of course, sir."

Basil put his hands on Morgan's shoulders, gently nudging it back toward the bed, "Morgan, you can't-"

"Dr. Grimoire..." Morgan met his eyes, brows furrowed, lip quivering, "I will be okay. I will."

Michael turned and headed back toward the door, "You should begin packing. You're behind."

"Yes, sir..." Morgan nodded, "But... oh, I am still a bit weak. Do you suppose... I could trouble you to help, Dr. Grimoire?"

Basil breathed out slowly, head down, eyes closed, "I suppose so."

"Good," Michael paused in the doorway, "I'll be in my study. If you need anything else... call Helen here. I have too much to do to be bothered."

And with that, he was gone. Morgan shakily stood from the bed, making its way to its closet, Basil following not far behind. It began sorting through its clothing, Basil stood at its side, allowing it to brace itself against his arm.

"Morgan, you really aren't in any condition to travel at all, let alone internationally."

"I know, Basil, but I'm not going to appease him," Morgan turned to face him, "I'm going because this is my way out."

Basil looked confused, "What... what do you mean, way out?"

Morgan hobbled back to the bed and sat down at the foot of it, "He's been planning this trip for a while now. Ever since I heard word of it, I've been teaching myself Japanese." Morgan smiled but tears streamed down its cheeks as it continued, "He doesn't know a word of it. I can... I can leave. Basil, I can run away. How can he look for me if he can't speak to anyone?"

Basil shook his head, "You... you can't be serious..."

"I am. If everything goes well, I'll contact you and I'll tell you where I am," Morgan wiped its eyes with the back of its hand, "You can't tell anyone. Please, Basil. I can't live like this anymore."

Basil paused, he took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose where they had sat. He sighed and nodded, "Contact me as soon as you think he can't find you again. I'll come. I don't want you to be alone."

"I will. I promise."

Morgan stood and began gathering up its luggage and essentials with Basil's help. It felt bad for lying to Basil, but it couldn't tell him the truth. He'd be horrified if he knew. Morgan had tried so hard to forgive Michael for everything else, but this was too far. He was so callous about its daughter. As much as it hated him, as much as it suffered because of him, it could never hate her. She was its daughter, and it had loved her. It didn't understand how he couldn't love her. How couldn't he love her? Why wouldn't he love his daughter, if not his wife, why not his own daughter?

At first, the plan had been exactly as it had told Basil. It had prepared for life in Japan, and it was simply going to run away. Until he had told that nurse to take Morgan's baby from it, until he had told her to 'get rid of it'. Like she was nothing, less than nothing, like she was garbage. That's when it knew Michael had to die.

***

It hadn't meant to get so wrapped up. It hadn't meant to tell him that much. By the time Morgan finished speaking, it was sobbing. Ogata remained silent, gripping its hand tightly, expression unchanged. Morgan looked at him through mist clouded eyes, it could've sworn there was something else behind that emotionless face. But it could've just been projecting.

"What was her name?"

Morgan was caught off guard, he'd spoken it so quietly, so softly. It almost thought it imagined it. "Wh... what?"

He spoke louder this time, "The baby. What was her name?"

"You know something, Ogata?" Morgan smiled, wiping its eyes with its handkerchief, "Of all the people who know, you're the first person to ever ask me that."

"Maybe they don't think you named her. You loved her so much. I figured you must have."

"Yes," Morgan nodded, "Annaliese. Her name was Annaliese."

"I like that name. And I think you made the right choice."

"Thank you, Ogata... I..." Morgan slowly raised its hand, pressing it against his cheek, staring into his eyes. They were still, cold, dark pools of black. His expression was still a blank one, lips flat, no feeling behind his gaze. So why did it feel so comforted, so safe? More than it ever had by anyone else.

It started to lean toward him, heart pounding in its chest, but it froze. Suddenly realizing what it was doing, or what it was about to do, it jerked back quickly, apologizing. Ogata was quicker, grabbing it by the wrist and tugging it back toward him.

"It's okay."

He cupped Morgan's face with his other hand and leaned in, pressing a kiss against its lips. It stared at him in shock when he pulled back, he relinquished his grip on its wrist and guided Morgan gently to lay its head against his chest, petting its hair softly. Morgan stiffened, unsure what to make of it all, but eventually relaxed against him, arms wrapping around his back.

"You're safe here with me. Because we're the same, you and I."

[couldawouldashoulda50]

The Girl

This is my submission for the Eras fic challenge graciously organized by @comphy-and-cozy and @wyattjohnston. The song assigned to me was "Getaway Car" I had a really hard time coming up with a player and an idea that I could build on. So for those that might be less familiar with this song (like me), from what I read, the lyrics can be tied to Taylor's relationship ending with Calvin Harris and her romance with Tom Hiddleston. Using this as the foundation, in this fic, the player I chose - Jeremy Swayman will be "Taylor" in the story. The fic itself heavily showcases a Canadian group called City and Colour. When I heard Jeremy sing and play guitar in the Face Off docuseries, I likened him to Dallas Green, the lead singer. This is my first time writing for Jeremy so I hope you like it, and thank you again for organizing such an awesome challenge.

Warnings - none other than profanity. Alludes to a partner cheating. Apologies if I missed anything.

Word Count - approx 6k

For anyone wanting to hear the City and Colour songs noted in the story: The Girl Waiting

Jeremy’s hubcaps grazed the curb as he slowed, squinting at the row of elegant houses lining the quiet street. He double-checked the address showing on his GPS, then shifted his gaze back to the home in front of him. It had to be the right place. His eyes took in the towering Victorian style mansion, its brick work, tan in colour accented by ornate gray-green trim, and he shifted uneasily in his seat. He hadn’t expected anything quite like this—a recording studio tucked away among the historic mansions of Boston’s Beacon Hill neighborhood.

The house loomed over him as he stepped out, guitar case in hand, its weathered charm giving off the look of a travelling musician. He fidgeted and tried to shake off the nerves prickling under his skin. This was a bad idea, wasn’t it? He should’ve gone somewhere more modern, more professional—or maybe not at all.

Before he could tuck tail and run, the front door swung open. A woman stepped out onto the porch, her loose sweater slipping slightly off one shoulder, her sandy-brown hair catching the autumn afternoon sunlight. She smiled—a natural, easy smile that disarmed him almost immediately.

“Jeremy Swayman - so nice to meet you” she said, her voice light and friendly. “I’m Rowan. Come on in.”

He paused, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Uh, yeah. Thanks for—thanks for squeezing me in.”

She waved him off as if it were no trouble at all. “Not a problem. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

As she led him up the steps and through the wide wooden door, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he knew her from somewhere. Her voice, her face—something about her triggered an odd familiarity that he couldn’t quite place. But when she caught him sneaking a glance at her, her expression stayed neutral. If she noticed his curiosity, she didn’t let on.

Inside, the house smelled faintly of aged wood and a light scent of fresh linens. The checkerboard floor in the main entrance lead to a grand staircase, and beyond that was the recording space just down a flight of stairs. The studio was intimate but well-equipped, with a mix of modern gear and vintage touches. Rowan moved through it with an effortless confidence, and Jeremy found himself relaxing despite his earlier hesitation.

“So,” she said, motioning for him to take a seat on the worn leather couch by the wall. “What brings you here today?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “It’s, uh, for my girlfriend. Our anniversary’s coming up, and I wanted to do something special. Record a song for her. We’re uh - going through…well, something. I guess I just want something to say that I get how hard her life is sometimes - being with, well - me.”

Rowan’s eyebrows lifted, her lips curving into a smile. “That’s a really beautiful gesture. Do you have a song in mind?”

Jeremy hesitated. “Not… really. I mean, I had a couple ideas, but…” He sighed. “Honestly, my brain’s kind of fried right now. It’s been a rough few weeks.”

Rowan nodded, her expression shifting to something softer. “That’s okay. We’ll figure something out.” She crossed the room and grabbed an acoustic guitar propped against a corner. “Let’s start simple.”

She sat on the edge of a stool, fingers dancing over the strings as she flipped through a worn catalogue of song titles. “Any particular vibe you’re going for? Romantic? Upbeat? Nostalgic?”

“Nostalgic, I guess,” he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Something meaningful but… not too cheesy.”

Rowan chuckled, the sound light and genuine. “Got it. Let’s see…” She played a few opening chords of ‘Patience’ by Guns ‘n Roses, then another, ‘You and Me’ by Lifehouse, humming softly as she tested the waters. Jeremy listened, but nothing clicked. His mind was too cluttered, too distracted by the pressure of his collapsing relationship and everything else that had gone on recently with his newly signed contract weighing him down.

And then Rowan shifted, her head tilting slightly as if an idea had just occurred to her. “How about this one?” she asked, her fingers brushing over the strings.

The melody was soft, almost haunting, and then she began to sing:

“I wish I could do better by you, 'cause that's what you deserve…”

Jeremy froze. Her voice wasn’t just good—it was incredible. Rich and soulful, with a sweetness that made the lyrics feel like they were meant for this song. He barely heard the words; all he could focus on was her, the way she poured herself into the song as if it came straight from her heart.

By the time she finished the verse, he realized he’d been staring. She caught his gaze, her lips quirking into a smile.

“City and Colour,” she said, breaking the silence. “The Girl. I think the lyrics fit your situation perfectly. I’m sure it’s not an easy balancing act between your career and your lives together.”

He blinked, his voice catching in his throat. “Yeah,” he managed, though his thoughts were spinning.

The song was beautiful—the lyrics were perfect… if only they actually applied to his girlfriend, Aileen. Jeremy had uncovered her duplicity in their relationship, a more troubling side of her personality revealed during his difficult salary arbitration the year before. At a time when he needed support, Aileen’s comments throughout the summer of 2023 had done nothing but highlight her true colors. Now, with his signature inked on an eight-year contract—negotiated publicly at times in the media—Aileen acted as though she were owed something simply for her presence during the standoff between Jeremy and the Boston Bruins.

Jeremy had hoped that doing something to remind her of the times that were loving and fun—rather than riddled with angst and harsh words—might help them get through this low point.

Rowan set her guitar aside, resting it gently against the stool, and tilted her head at Jeremy. “Alright, I think I’ve got a good sense of the style you’re going for. But now, it’s your turn.”

Jeremy blinked, looking slightly panicked. “My turn?”

She smiled, reassuring but firm. “Yeah. I need to hear what I’m working with. No pressure—I just want to get a feel for your range.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his unease evident. “I mean, I play guitar… but singing’s not really my thing. I’m just a goalie, you know?”

Rowan laughed softly, leaning back on the stool. “I think you’re selling yourself short. Dallas Green’s style is about pure emotion, not perfection - even though I think his voice is as close to perfection as they come. Besides, you don’t have to be a pro—you just have to mean it.”

Jeremy hesitated, shifting in his seat. His fingers drummed against his knees. “What do you want me to sing?”

She thought for a moment, then picked up her guitar again. “How about this? I’ll play the chords for ‘The Girl.’ You just follow along. No one’s judging here—it’s just the two of us.”

He gave a reluctant nod, his grip tightening slightly on the armrest before he stood. “Alright… but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As Rowan started strumming, Jeremy closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The first note came out hesitant, barely above a whisper, but soon his voice steadied. It wasn’t polished, but it was honest and filled with a depth Rowan hadn’t expected. By the time he hit the chorus, his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She was definitely impressed.

When he finished, Jeremy looked up, half-expecting her to laugh or offer some fake version of applause. Reactions that reminded him of Aileen. Instead, she stared at him, her eyes wide and sparkling with something he couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve got something - I’m just floored here,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Got what?” he asked, shifting awkwardly.

“That thing,” she said, gesturing vaguely but enthusiastically. “Your tone, your emotion— it’s beautiful. You might not realize it, but your voice can tell a story.”

Jeremy’s ears reddened. “I don’t know about that…”

“I do,” she countered supportively. “Trust me. We can work with this. If you give yourself a chance - just breathe, you’ll surprise yourself. Plus, then I get to do my job and make any adjustments when I produce the final version.”

For the first time since arriving, Jeremy felt a flicker of pride. He wasn’t sure if it was her words or the way she said them, but something about Rowan made him believe she meant it.

As Jeremy opened his mouth to reply, the soft clicking of claws on hardwood interrupted her. He glanced over her shoulder just as a graying dog ambled into the room, tail wagging lazily. His soulful eyes locked onto Jeremy, who immediately brightened.

“This is Arty,” Rowan said, sliding off the stool to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “He’s an old boy, but he runs the place.”

Jeremy crouched down, letting Arty sniff his hand before giving him a gentle pat. “Hey, buddy,” he said, his voice warm. “You’re a good-looking guy, huh?”

As if on cue, another dog trotted in—this one bigger, younger, and distinctly more mischievous. His tail wagged furiously as he bounded up to Jeremy.

“And this troublemaker,” she said with a laugh, “is Paulie. I’m sort of a Sopranos fan - not sure if you could tell. Arty’s the straight laced guy and Paulie - well, he means well but he’s nothing but trouble.”

“Paulie, huh?” Jeremy chuckled, sitting cross-legged on the floor as both dogs circled him. “You’re not gonna take me out back if I don’t perform well, are you?” He pointed two fingers at his temple as he glanced toward Rowan.

Rowan laughed, her voice light and genuine. “They’re my shadows - I guess the worst that they’ll do is walk out if they don’t like what they hear. But they’ll listen if you don’t want them around you…some people aren’t comfortable around them.”

Jeremy rubbed Arty’s ears, grinning as the dog leaned into his touch. “I don’t mind. This guy’s already my favorite.”

Rowan watched the scene unfold, her heart softening as Jeremy shifted effortlessly into this quieter, more relaxed version of himself. The tension he’d carried in with him seemed to dissolve under Arty’s gentle nudge and Paulie’s playfulness. For a moment, she simply let it happen, the room filled with the sound of paws padding across the wooden floor and easy conversation.

“Alright,” Rowan said after a while, sitting back on the couch. “So, now that you’ve won over my protectors, what’s next? Do you want to keep searching for a song or are we sticking with City and Colour?”

Jeremy leaned back, scratching Arty’s head. “Let’s stick with City and Colour for now. I had never heard of them and I’m already wanting to hear more of their songs.”

“Let’s start there then - you can hear the original…you’ll hear the similarities in your voices. Or, that’s what I hear anyway.”

Rowan queued the song and the now familiar tune streamed through the open space. Jeremy sat silently, smiling as he visualized playing the chords on his acoustic guitar. He loved the lyrics. He loved the sentiment of the song. It was the perfect song to sing for a supportive partner, to recognize their sacrifices as he lives out his dreams. It was the perfect song, just not for Aileen.

—

Throughout the next week, Jeremy found himself back at Rowan’s house, each time with his guitar slung over his shoulder as he climbed the familiar steps. The air had turned colder, the crispness of late fall settling into Boston, but the warmth of Rowan’s home hadn’t changed.

During the time he spent at her studio, he had learned why she looked so familiar to Jeremy. Rowan, formerly known as ‘Shea’ as in her last name, had hit the big time with an epic album released when she was only 19 years old. The record went triple platinum with hit after hit with music that fused together pop/rock and alternative genres. She was slated as one of the most exciting up and coming artists, and then she simply vanished from the scene. There was the usual speculation - everything from substance abuse to affairs with notable celebrities - all of which were wildly untrue. Rowan had been exposed to the seamy underbelly of the entertainment industry and desperately clung onto her sensibilities, squirreling away whatever funds she had access to. She wanted to simply make music but the powers that be saw her only as a physically beautiful commodity. Every party she was told to attend made her die a little inside. This path was not her path and she stepped away broken hearted and jaded. She set about making wise investments, and soon bought her home in Boston, with the hopes of helping burgeoning musicians and singers begin their professional journeys. Jeremy was fascinated as Rowan walked him through her experiences and somehow felt so lucky that he stumbled across her studio in the first place.

Inside, Rowan was already setting up the equipment, her usual ease and efficiency making him feel like this was just another day. But for Jeremy, it was starting to feel like much more. He hadn’t told her how bad things had gotten—not about the Bruins’ lackluster start to the season, not about Aileen’s constant ultimatums—but he suspected she could see it anyway. Somehow, she always seemed to know when to give him space or when to fill it with music and conversation.

“Alright,” Rowan said, looking up from her setup. “Ready to lay down the first take?”

Jeremy hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

He sat on the stool she’d adjusted for him, his fingers brushing over the strings of his acoustic guitar. Rowan adjusted the mic stand, stepping back to the mixing board as she donned her headphones.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she said softly, her voice encouraging.

Jeremy exhaled, then began to play. The familiar chords flowed easily, but as he sang the first line, his voice cracked slightly. He paused, frustrated, but Rowan didn’t flinch.

“That’s okay,” she said calmly. “Take it from the top. Feel the words—don’t force them.”

He nodded and tried again. This time, his voice carried more weight, more emotion. As he poured himself into the lyrics, he closed his eyes, realizing the person he should have been singing about never came to mind. His crumbling relationship felt distant, replaced by an unexpected feeling of gratitude—toward Rowan. Thinking of her as ‘The Girl’ made everything suddenly click.

Rowan didn’t interrupt, letting him finish the entire song. When the last chord faded, Jeremy looked up, as he tried to gauge if she could see right through him and how he was feeling.

“That,” she said, pulling off her headphones, “was incredible. You’ve got the heart of this song, Jeremy. It’s all there.”

He managed a small smile. If only she knew. “Thanks, Rowan. I just… started to really feel something. I don’t know if I have ever felt…whatever this is inside of me right now.”

Rowan tilted her head, studying him. “I know it’s been a tough go lately with your team. You’re carrying a lot. I can hear it in your voice.”

Jeremy shifted, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, well, life’s been a bit of a mess - not just with the team…but in other areas too.”

She didn’t press, instead she raised an eyebrow and flashed a knowing smile. “You know, the last part of this song has a group vocal—it’s a big moment right at the end. Think you can bring in a few teammates? I don’t want to insinuate anything about your recent - hmmm - play….but maybe you could call it a little team-building exercise.”

Jeremy let out a short laugh. “You think anyone on the Bruins can carry a tune?”

Rowan grinned. “I’ll fix whatever comes out of them - I’ll use some Autotune and work some of my magic and have them sounding like Dean Martin in no time.”

He chuckled - but he warmed to the idea. “I’ll see what I can do. They’re gonna fuckin chirp me to no end for this, though.”

“Yeah - maybe,” Rowan said with a shrug. “But I’m telling you, if you invite Marchand, you better tell him to keep his hands and his tongue to himself.”

—

The sound of voices and heavy footsteps shuffled up the path to Rowan’s front door, growing louder with each passing second. Jeremy pushed open the gate, followed by a crowd of grinning teammates. Rowan opened the door, raising an eyebrow as she took in the scene.

“Uh, hey,” Jeremy said sheepishly, gesturing to the group. “I might’ve brought a few of the guys.”

“A few…Jesus, I see more than a few and see nothing but trouble,” she said wryly.

David Pastrnak stepped forward, offering his hand. “We’re here to make music—or noise - or at least make Sway look good.”

Rowan laughed, stepping aside to let them in. “Alright, let’s see what we’re working with. Shoes off, no shit-talking or fighting, and try not to knock over the equipment.”

Everyone looked back at Brad Marchand as the usual suspect - who scoffed and offered a subtle “Fuck off” in response.

The guys filed into the studio, some looking around curiously while others settled in, tossing good-natured jabs Jeremy’s way.

“So, what’s the plan, Rockstar?” Charlie McAvoy teased, nudging Jeremy. “You gonna serenade us first?”

“Something like that,” Jeremy muttered, adjusting his guitar. “Let’s just… see how it goes.”

Rowan handed out lyric sheets and lined them up around a few microphones. “Okay, so this is the chorus. It’s pretty simple—just follow Jeremy’s lead and try to stay in tune. I’ll clean it up in post if I have to.”

Marchand, already leaning into the mic with a cheeky grin, said, “Stay in tune? You’re asking a lot.”

“Just don’t scare the dogs,” Rowan quipped, followed by a round of laughter.

As the session began, the guys started off exactly as expected—laughing, chirping, and singing off-key. But as Jeremy’s voice filled the studio, something shifted. His vocals echoed in the studio and immediately grounded the group in the song’s meaning. One by one, their teasing faded, replaced by an intense and silent focus. By the second take, they were all invested, their voices sounding surprisingly sincere.

When the final note faded, Rowan removed her headphones, a satisfied smile on her face. “You guys nailed that. Seriously.”

The room erupted in laughter and high-fives, but it wasn’t until David spoke up that the mood turned reflective.

“You know,” he said, leaning back against the wall, “this isn’t just about Sway’s girl. This song—it’s for all of them. Wives, girlfriends… they deal with a lot, putting up with us.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said, nodding. “Can we get some extra copies? As a thank-you to the ladies?”

Jeremy looked around, seeing the agreement on their faces. After feeling pretty low about how things had started this season, feeling like the locker room was against him, all of that seemed to dissolve in that moment.

He glanced at Rowan, who gave him a little wink. “Alright, looks like we’ve got a plan. Let’s make this thing perfect,” she said.

Jeremy slowly packed up his guitar, dragging out the process longer than necessary. The studio was quieter now, most of the guys chatting amongst themselves and seemingly in no hurry to leave. Rowan stood near the mixing board, talking with Brendan Carlo and Andrew Peeke. Her soft laugh carried across the room, and Jeremy couldn’t help but glance over at her.

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew that letting himself think about Rowan this way—about how she made him feel—wasn’t fair. Not to her, not to Aileen, and not to himself. She had her own world, and he was just… a client. She’d been kind to him, shared her talent and her time, but that didn’t mean there was anything more to it. Still, the thought of leaving, of this being the last time he saw her, tied his insides into knots.

What would Rowan even think if she knew how much he’d come to rely on these moments with her? How he felt like himself in a way he hadn’t in months—or maybe even years? She deserved better than to be pulled into his mess, and yet, the idea of walking away felt impossible.

He stared at the latches on his guitar case. He knew it was time to go, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. His stomach tightened as he looked at her, so naturally beautiful and at ease. Some of the guys had wandered down the hall, checking out the framed photos on the wall with Arty and Paulie meandering after them, but Jeremy stayed frozen in place.

This felt like it could be the last moment. In the short time since Jeremy had been coming here, it had become his escape, a refuge into music and incredible company with Rowan. Aileen had all but deserted Jeremy, claiming to be visiting relatives but then subsequently being tagged in a group photo taken in Cancun.

After that day, there’d be no reason to come back except to pick up the final version of the recording. He might not see Rowan again. That thought twisted his insides. If he stayed, it meant he was admitting—at least to himself—that he felt more for her than he should. But if he left… leaving felt worse. It felt like closing a door he didn’t want to close.

Rowan glanced over and smiled warmly. “You all set?”

Jeremy nodded, forcing himself to move even though his chest felt heavy. “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

But as he walked toward the door, he knew he wasn’t good. Not at all.

Jeremy’s teammates all filed out the door after saying their goodbye’s to Rowan and her two companions, leaving Jeremy still standing at the entrance. He now wished he had driven alone instead of with Peeke and McAvoy.

Rowan smiled at Jeremy. “You sure made the past little while very interesting for me. It was truly a pleasure working with you - I hope you and your girlfriend will like the finished version. I think I can have it ready for you this week if you’re in a rush for it?”

“No - no rush for it,” Jeremy said, all the while thinking that he wasn’t sure he even had a girlfriend to give it to anymore.

Two Weeks Later

The message from Rowan had come late the night before: The recordings are ready. I even had them pressed onto vinyl for keepsakes—hope that’s okay. Let me know when you want to swing by to grab them.

Now, standing on her front steps again, Jeremy hesitated before knocking. His heart felt heavier with the gnawing ache of uncertainty pounding in his chest. The last two weeks had been nothing but chaos—poor games, relentless media scrutiny, and the inevitable breakup with Aileen, who enjoyed the company of another man during and after her trip to Cancun. Although the writing had been on the wall with their relationship, it still broke him to think of the Aileen he first loved versus the woman that turned on him in the end.

Rowan’s message acted like a glimmer of calm amid the noise. He just wasn’t sure what to expect—was it only a pick-up, or was it a goodbye for good?

When Rowan opened the door, she immediately noticed Jeremy’s forced smile and the exhaustion in his eyes. She invited him in, calling for the dogs, who eagerly bounded over, tails wagging. Jeremy crouched to greet them, his hand lingering on Arty’s graying head as if grounding himself.

They talked for a while, their conversation light at first—about hockey, the team, anything but what was really weighing on him. But eventually, Jeremy opened up, revealing the unraveling of his relationship with Aileen. He didn’t go into all the details, but he shared enough for Rowan to understand why the polished recording felt like too much to face right now.

Rowan listened quietly, her heart sinking a little more with each word. She had worked hard on the recording, pouring everything she could into making it perfect. But it wasn’t disappointment in her work that weighed on her; it was the ache of watching Jeremy struggle, his usual steady presence fractured.

As he stood to leave, Jeremy hesitated near the door. “Thanks for… everything,” he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

“You didn’t,” Rowan said gently. “If anything, I’m glad you trusted me enough to talk.”

He gave her a small, genuine smile, and she took a step closer. “Before you go,” she said, her voice soft, “I want you to listen to another song. It’s by City and Colour, called ‘Waiting.’ It might… help. Or at least make you feel less alone.”

Jeremy nodded, taking the suggestion to heart. “I’ll check it out.”

They said their goodbyes, hesitant and drawn out, as though neither wanted the moment to end. But eventually, Jeremy made his way back to his car, the recording and her words weighing heavily in his mind.

Once he settled into the driver’s seat, he pulled out his phone, searching for the song. The opening notes played softly through the speakers, followed by the first line: “A coma might feel better than this.”

Jeremy couldn’t help it—he laughed, a sound that felt both strange and relieving in the quiet of the car. “She really gets it,” he murmured, shaking his head as the rest of the song unfolded. For the first time in a while, he felt like someone truly understood what he was going through.

Jeremy’s laughter faded as the song played on, the haunting lyrics sinking deeper into his thoughts. He didn’t start the car right away, just sat there, letting Waiting loop again and again. Each line felt like it was all about the life he was living in that moment and it somehow offered him comfort.

The opening words hit harder with each repetition. Jeremy leaned back against the headrest, his hand resting loosely on the steering wheel. The ache in his chest swelled as the next line played: You're weighed down, you're full of something… of sickness, and desertion.

Finally, he started the engine and pulled out onto the quiet street. He wasn’t sure where he was going—not home, not to the rink. Maybe nowhere in particular. The city passed by in a blur of lights as the song repeated, with Jeremy getting lost in lyrics and his thoughts over and over again.

Saying goodbye to love, and holding your head up high… He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his breath catching at the sheer gut punch of it. The words felt like they were ripping apart everything inside him—his failed relationship, the weight of his career, the absolute loneliness he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.

As the next verse played, the ache in his chest twisted deeper: All your friends seem like enemies when you’re broken down and empty. The truth of it hit too close to home. Aileen had made him feel that way too—isolated, unworthy, alone. And yet… there was something about Rowan’s presence, her ease and warmth, that had started to chip away at the weight of it all.

Before he realized it, Jeremy found himself turning down Rowan’s street. It wasn’t intentional—at least, that’s what he told himself. But as he slowed in front of her house, his hands rested on the wheel, and his heart thudded in his chest.

What was he doing? He didn’t have a reason to be here, not again, not so soon. And yet, sitting there in the dark, with her house glowing softly against the night, he felt a pull he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just about the music or the comfort she’d given him. It was her—Rowan. The way she understood him without him having to explain. The way her presence made everything feel just a little less heavy.

Jeremy stared at the house, the song still playing quietly through the car speakers. So say goodbye to love, and hold your head up high… there’s no need to rush, we’re all just waiting, waiting to die. He sighed, his hands tightening briefly on the wheel before he shut off the engine.

He didn’t know what he was going to say, but as he stepped out of the car and walked up the path to her door, he realized it didn’t matter. He just needed to see her.

The sound of Paulie suddenly barking from his perch at the front window prompted Rowan to step away from her piano. His low, excited woof and wagging tail signaled something unusual. She moved to the window, pulling the curtain aside. Her eyes widened as she spotted Jeremy standing at the bottom of the steps, his hands shoved into his pockets, looking uncertain but hopeful… maybe?

Without hesitating, she opened the door and stepped onto the porch. “Jeremy?” she called softly, the cool night air brushing against her skin. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He looked up, and she was struck by how different he seemed. The tension that had gripped him earlier was gone, replaced by something raw and alive, as though he had been completely resuscitated. He climbed the steps, stopping just in front of her.

“That song,” he began, his voice low and almost breathless. “It felt like it bore into my soul. How… how did you know? How did you know that’s exactly what I’ve been feeling?”

Rowan blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice and the emotion in his eyes. “I didn’t know—not exactly,” she admitted. “I just… saw something in you. It just came into my head, and it felt right.”

Jeremy let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. “In such a short time, you’ve… I don’t know how to say this without sounding crazy, but it feels like you give me everything I didn’t even know I needed. Everything I could possibly want.”

The words hung between them, heavy with meaning. Rowan’s heart raced, her breath catching at the weight of his confession, but she forced herself to stay grounded. “Jeremy,” she said carefully, “let’s talk inside, okay?”

Jeremy hesitated for just a moment before nodding. As he stepped past her, the warmth of the house wrapped around him, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could breathe.

Inside, Rowan guided him to the couch, sitting opposite him. Paulie climbed onto Jeremy’s lap, his wagging tail thumping softly against the cushions, while Arty settled at Rowan’s feet. For a moment, the room was quiet, save for the dogs’ sighs, their lips flapping as they exhaled.

“Jeremy,” Rowan began gently, her hands resting on her knees, “what you said outside… it’s a lot. I won’t lie—I feel…something too. But this… it’s fast. It’s not logical, and it’s… complicated.”

“I know it’s fast,” Jeremy said, his voice quiet but firm. “But I can’t ignore this. Rowan, I haven’t felt this alive, this… right, in years. Not even close.”

She met his gaze, her heart aching his total vulnerability in that moment. “I’m not saying no,” she said softly. “I’m saying we need to take small steps. You just got out of a relationship. You’re carrying so much, and I don’t want to be….considered like your escape. I don’t want to be your getaway car from everything in your life.”

Jeremy’s shoulders sagged slightly, her words both grounding and sobering him. “I don’t see you that way,” he said earnestly. “I know it’s more than that. I feel it.”

Rowan offered him a small, understanding smile. “I’m leaving for New York tomorrow for a couple of weeks,” she said. “Maybe we can use that time to figure this out—to see if what we’re feeling is real.”

He nodded slowly, taking it in. “And if it is?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“I’ll message you when I get back,” she said, her smile softening. “If that’s okay with you.”

Jeremy’s lips quirked into a small, subdued smile. “Yeah. It’s okay. I’ll wait. Whatever it takes—I’ll wait.”

For a long moment, they sat in silence, easing into something more hopeful from the expressions on their faces. Finally, Rowan stood, motioning toward the door. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

As he stepped onto the porch, the crisp night air hit him, but it didn’t feel as heavy as before. He turned back to look at Rowan, her silhouette framed in the warm glow of the house behind her. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “For everything.”

“Take care of yourself, Jeremy,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

Jeremy walked down the steps, his heart lighter than it had been in months. He didn’t know where this was going, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t mind waiting to find out.

BONUS SCENE

Three weeks later, Jeremy stood on Rowan’s porch again, his heart thudding with nervous excitement. He adjusted the strap of the small bag slung over his shoulder, which contained the vinyl of "The Girl" he’d brought with him. He had thought of her every idle moment during her time away, and when her message finally came, it felt like he could breathe again.

Rowan had kept her word, messaging him as soon as she returned from New York. Jeremy had been on a road trip when it came through, but he had responded immediately, and the moment he could, he called her. Her voice, warm and familiar, had filled him with a lightness he hadn’t felt in weeks.

Now, standing here, he could hardly wait to see her.

The door opened, and there she was, her smile as radiant as he remembered. “Hey,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “It’s good to see you. Come on in.”

He stepped into the house, the warmth and familiar scent wrapping around him like a favorite blanket. The dogs trotted over, Paulie practically bouncing, and Jeremy crouched to greet them, laughing as Paulie licked his face.

“I missed this guy,” he said, scratching behind Paulie’s ears before standing.

Rowan watched him with an amused smile as Arty strolled in after a long stretch. “I think they both did.”

Jeremy straightened, holding up the bag. “I brought something,” he said, his voice softening. “I haven’t listened to the recording yet. I couldn’t bring myself to want to hear it. But when you messaged me….I don’t know…I just needed to hear it for the first time with you. I even made all the guys wait until I heard it first,” he chuckled.

Rowan’s cheeks flushed as she looked at him in slight disbelief. “Well,” she said, gesturing toward the sitting room, “let’s play it, then.”

They moved to the record player Rowan kept in the corner of the room, and she carefully set the vinyl on the turntable. The needle dropped, and the familiar, haunting chords of "The Girl" began to play. Jeremy sat back on the couch beside Rowan, his hands resting on his knees as his voice filled the room.

Jeremy was stunned. He could not believe that was his voice singing, and his guitar playing. The sheer pride he felt was one thing, but hearing how Rowan had perfected every single sound - he was completely in awe of her.

Rowan turned to him. “So, what do you think?” she asked, trying to stifle her smirk, as it was more than apparent what he thought. She stepped toward the player to lift the needle off the record.

But as she sat, the space between them seemed to shrink. Her heart began to race as he reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

“My beautiful girl,” he said, barely above a whisper, his voice filled with affection.

Rowan leaned in and kissed him softly - it was the slow and quiet beginnings of something they both knew would be worth waiting for.

[dragon-tummy]

DROPPING THIS ON THE FLOOR BEFORE I GET DRAGGED OFF INTO THE WOODS.

anyways heres the dan heng ficlet that was requested.

Reader is a size-shifter that gets tiny when overwhelmed or injured! YAY!!!! I LOVE PROTECTIVE VORE!!! I’m horrible at writing the setting, so the reader and Dan Heng are sent out to an unnamed section of The Xianzhou Luofu that had Cloud Knights enter but never return.

Looking at my notes and sighing. This might be a little bit OOC because I'm not very confident writing about Dan Heng.

—

You’re not expecting anything grand or wild for this trip.

You’re bored out of your mind. Your scythe rests on your shoulders, hands closed around either end of the long pole with the blade turned downward as you continue your walk straight ahead. It’s been nothing but silence - not counting footsteps - between you and Dan Heng, only solidifying the awkward barrier between the two of you.

It’s not that you aren’t friends. The two of you get along quite well, and while your personalities are on opposite ends of the spectrum, you still managed to form a good bond with him. The problem? You’ve never really been… alone with him. You’re not used to being in his presence by yourself, your once bubbly and talkative attitude dulled down to an anxious and quiet demeanor. Festering thoughts of bothering him or making the mission longer than it needs to be leads to you simply remaining silent.

He doesn’t say anything to fill the silence, either. While expected, you can’t help but wish he would say something to fill it in your absence of courage. With a short breath in, you try to break the awkward tension.

“So…” Your voice cracks a little, making you wince. “Uhm.”

He looks over at you. Your heart leaps into your throat as he levels you with his usual stoic stare, your nervous mind assuming that the look is something negative.

“Would you want to get something to drink after this? Maybe something to eat?” You give him a weak smile that definitely doesn’t fit your usual behavior, your lips thinning into a line when he doesn’t immediately reply.

“I guess I wouldn’t mind.” He answers slowly, his shoulders relaxing somewhat from their tense posture.

“I’m fine with doing whatever, I was just hoping to hang out with you a little more before we went back to the express.” Worrying your lip between your teeth, you eventually muster up the will to go further. “I’ve wanted to spend more time with you, I just haven’t really figured out how.”

“Hm.” Dan Heng’s expression shifts, a detail that you don’t miss. It’s a small twitch in his neutral expression, lip curling somewhat before the look is gone. “Alright.”

“So do we wanna go straight after this?” You shove down the excitement in your tone, clearing your throat before you continue. “I wanted to wander around the shops and see what's being sold before deciding on anything.”

“I’m fine with that.” He doesn't seem all that picky about the idea, turning away to focus his attention straight ahead. “I didn't get a chance to eat anything before we left, so-”

“I can pay!” You chirp before he can finish, shifting your scythe to let it slide off of your shoulders, resting loosely in one hand with the sharp blade inches from the ground. With it out of the way, you shuffle to walk closer with Dan Heng, pulling out your phone with your other hand. “There was this one lunch stand I saw the other day that I think we could try if nothing else catches my eye.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head to the side, giving you a glance.

Lifting your phone up, you swipe through a couple of pictures you took, giving him a wide grin when his gaze moves between your phone and your face. You continue when he doesn't say anything else about it.

“It smelled amazing.” You sigh dreamily, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “I'm kinda sad I didn't try anything before I left.”

“I'm sure we can get something this time, then.” He reassures.

Before you can continue further, there's a low chatter ahead. Both you and Dan Heng stiffen, coming to a full stop as your gazes flit around in search of the source.

You turn your head to look back as the next sound rattles from behind, heart sinking when you see mara-struck soldiers filter out of the spaces between the buildings. Like a pack of lions, they block the only exit back as more emerge ahead, boxing the two of you in. A low rumble comes from the soldiers behind you. They stumble forward suddenly, growling and swinging their arms forward to herd you closer to the rest of them.

“... I thought this was gonna be easy.” You mutter, mostly to yourself.

“They never said it would be.” Dan Heng grunts, brandishing his weapon as he eyes the threats around the two of you. “The Cloud Knights were disappearing for a reason.”

“How many even are there?!” Your tone is pitched as more seem to emerge, no less than twelve of them. It's getting hard to count them with how they begin to move around, circling you in the wide street. “This feels wrong.”

Dan Heng shushes you, stretching an arm out protectively in front of you. Listening to him, you don't utter another word, waiting for him to act or speak.

A soldier lunges out with a shriek, scared back by Dan Heng as he swings his weapon out, the end of it just barely grazing the chest of the mara-struck. As it retreats, another jumps out to try and get a hit in, doing the same as the previous as more of them join in. Doing this pushes you and Dan Heng apart unknowingly in your shared attempt to keep your distance from the soldiers.

You're barely able to keep up as they begin to swarm you, frenzied in their desperate attempt to tear at your flesh. Shoving two of them back with the pole of your scythe, you ram the bottom of it into the head of one, driving the curved blade through the torso of another. Sharp arm blades grasp at your weapon as you struggle to keep it in your grip, kicking a foot out to try and get the closest soldier off of you.

While Dan Heng handles them with practiced movements, you're clumsily managing to hold your own against what looks to be five soldiers. One enemy is fine, you can handle that with no issue. But five? You're far from confident.

One of them moves behind you, arm wrapping around your throat as the sharp piece on their arm threatens to dig into the side of your head. You're frozen stiff for what feels like forever, an instinctive need to fight bubbling up in your chest. Your body moves before your mind does, jamming your elbow back into the soldier behind you. While only stunned for a moment, it's enough for you to wrench yourself free, cutting into the soldier with your weapon as you try to scramble to the side and away from the circle they've attempted to make around you.

You're tackled to the floor before you can. Head knocking painfully against the ground, you shove the pole of your weapon against the throat of the mara-struck on top of you, keeping them back as they claw and swing wildly at you. The rest of them begin to stalk closer, watching.

You don't know if they're purposefully trying to be terrifying or not.

Nails dig into your face before being shoved away, cutting across your cheek and the bridge of your nose as you force your knee up and into the torso of the soldier. It's flailing wildly as it snarls and snaps, sounds leaking from behind the helmet. You're struggling to keep it back, another wound cut across your cheek as you tilt your head to try and avoid the swing of its sharpened weaponry on its arm. There’s only just enough room between the two of you to avoid a deadly blow to your head.

The rest begin to crowd around you. With a twisted sort of luck, the soldier on top of you fights your weapon down, pressing it against your neck as you did to it. The pressure digging into your throat is painful, a choked up gasp working its way out of you as your focus shifts to trying to get out from beneath your own weapon. The soldier grips the pole of the scythe tighter, raising it up before attempting to slam it back down against your throat. It’s terrifying knowing that it would rather make you choke than to finish you off with its own weaponry.

With a surge of energy, you shove the soldier off, adrenaline coursing through you. Just as you do that, another grabs you by the arm, your weapon falling to the side as another climbs atop you. Nails sink into the exposed skin of your arm as the one atop you raises their arm to cut you across the face. It feels like it's slowing down. Your racing mind is emptied, no thoughts moving through your head as your gaze remains fixed on the threat on top of you. You squeeze your eyes shut with a choked up whimper.

The pain doesn't come.

Everything around you shifts as a wave of nausea rolls over you. It feels like your entire world has been turned around, tossing you with it. Whether you want it or not, you've been shrunken into your smaller form. You squint your eyes open, watching the shadows of the soldiers move over you, massive. They're startled for a long moment, gazing down at you.

They're blown to the side before they can do anything to you.

With a rattling growl, someone picks you up in a full fist. It's an animalistic noise that terrifies you, your head snapping upward as you look up into the eyes of… Dan Heng?

Was this even Dan Heng?

Two horns extended out from his forehead, pupils narrowed to slits as he glares at the beasts that'd been on you moments before. With longer hair and sharper ears, this is someone you definitely aren't familiar with. He clutches you tightly to his chest, the feral sounds from him vibrating against your body. There wasn't anyone else that this could be.

You cling to his outfit as he turns and hurries away from the danger. You're only prevented from falling by the fingers closed around your body, a reminder that you are far more fragile now than you were before.

It wasn’t a secret to you that Dan Heng had another form. You were told about the little adventures that everyone went on before your arrival, and that included their main mission on The Xianzhou Luofu. While it was definitely something of interest, you never got the courage to ask to see. It seems you wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.

“I'm sorry for what I'm about to do.” He murmurs, stopping a ways away from the soldiers. “I can't have you in the way when you're like this.”

You have another thing to worry about now, anyway.

There's no chance for you to question what he means as you're being held in front of an open mouth. A strangled noise of terror worms its way out of your throat, a sudden flare of horror spiking as you fight and shriek against being tossed into Dan Heng's waiting maw. Placed inside, he closes his mouth, releasing you. Attempting to shove your arms past his lips does nothing. He even goes as far as snapping his teeth shut when you pull back.

His tongue presses you against the roof of his mouth. The long, forked muscle curls, dragging along the underside of your body as you shove your hands against it. Dan Heng is quick to soak you with his saliva, pushing you around inside his maw as your struggling begins to weaken.

You're fighting against gravity as he tilts his head back, your shoes knocking against the back of his throat. Muscles ripple beneath you, opening up as you sink down into the tight grip of his throat. Your hands claw at his tongue for purchase as your upper half begins to slide inside, trying to cling onto anything to stop yourself from being swallowed.

A firm gulp seals your fate. Tightness envelops you on all sides, rippling and shifting like a wave as his body pulls you downward. Pushing and kicking does nothing, only serving to waste your energy as you pathetically try to resist. In an instant, Dan Heng had gone from a trusted friend to a dangerous predator, your breaths coming out in panicked huffs as you try to understand what just happened.

Drawn into his stomach, you do your best to remain calm, the cramped space doing nothing to help.

Pressing your hands against the flesh around you, there's little you can do as everything starts to shift. Jostled to the side a bit, Dan Heng's gut tightens around you as he moves around. You feel like you're being bounced around inside of a particularly firm bag, pushing your legs out to attempt to stop your body from being tossed back and forth inside of his stomach.

…

It takes a while, but things calm down.

You're sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest, listening to the muffled sounds outside as you take slow breaths in and out. At one point or another, the stomach walls around you had lit up, basking you in a gentle blue glow. While it was definitely an unexpected sight, it's one that managed to calm you down enough to think rationally.

“... Are you alright?”

His voice startles you out of your silence, your breath hitching. After handling such a situation, one that ended with you being eaten, you weren't keen on talking to him right now.

“Yeah.” You reply dryly. “I'm as fine as I can be after being treated like a piece of candy.”

“I'm sorry for doing that without asking.” Dan Heng seems to sound genuinely concerned, his hand pressing over his belly and against you. “I didn't have much of a choice.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, trying to find the words you want to use. There's a part of you that's still bitter at being given no time to react to his words, but you understand that the threat wasn't exactly safe for you to handle after you shrunk.

“It's fine, I'm just being mean. I… I wasn't expecting that.” You sigh, feeling a little guilty for being snarky. “I'm not mad at you.”

He lets out a low sound. You're unsure of how exactly to describe it, something between a breath of relief and an animalistic warble.

“I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I know.” You mumble.

“And I'm sorry for-”

“I already told you it's fine.” You snort, your anxiety and discomfort melting away in the face of his concerned nature. “You don't have to beat yourself up over it.”

“... Right.” He murmurs.

“Are we safer now?” You ask, tilting your head back into the soft walls. “I'm not being shaken around anymore, so I'm assuming yes.”

“Yes. You're s-” He cuts himself off, grunting. “We're safe.”

“Thank fuck.” You groan, shifting around to get more comfortable. Dan Heng's body responds to the movement, muscles clenching. “I seriously thought I was gonna die. There were so many of them.”

“I looked away for one minute and then you were tiny.” He sounds unamused, concern still laced in his tone. “I, understandably, panicked.”

“I don't disagree with you there. I'd panic too if my friend suddenly couldn't fight anymore.” You try to joke, tilting your head to the side.

A comfortable silence spreads between you. Rolling your shoulders, you stretch your arms upward and outward, grunting as you pop your joints from sitting in one position for so long. Your palms press against the flesh around you, pushing softly.

The silence is suddenly broken by a low purr. It startles you, your hands retreating for a moment. He could purr?

“... I'm sorry.” He apologizes again.

“For what?” You want to shake him for apologizing so much over this entire problem. “You didn't do anything.”

The purrs increase in volume as you press more firmly at his gut. Your eyes widen a small amount as you make the connection, your mouth slightly agape as you listen to the vibrating sound.

“I didn't know you could purr.” You comment idly, continuing to move your hands. “That's kinda cool.”

“You…” He trails off. It takes him a moment to speak again, voice a bit louder as he brushes over your words. “Do you want me to let you out?”

You almost say yes. You let your hands drop as you debate on it, pursing your lips in thought.

This entire thing was weird and concerning - you aren't even sure why you're still sitting unharmed in his gut - but you find it to be oddly nice. You're safe here, nestled away from the world and surrounded by blue tinted walls with a glow that makes you feel sleepy. If you really wanted, you could go as far as avoiding your responsibilities to lounge around in here.

That last part settles it for you.

“Nah. I'm cozy.” You chirp, shifting around to curl up. “If anyone asks, just tell ‘em I wandered off after the mission.”

“... Alright.” Dan Heng doesn't question your choice, lowering his voice again. “Just let me know when you want out.”

“Will do.” You reply back. “I'm gonna take a nap.”

“Do you want me to wake you up for anything?”

“Eh… no. I'm probably gonna be asleep for a little while, but I still wanna get some food when I'm out.” You nuzzle your face into the surrounding flesh.

“That's fine with me.” Dan Heng lets out a pleased rumble, purrs increasing in volume. “You don't have to pay for it.”

“I'll fight you on that.” Your voice is weaker now as your eyes slip shut. “I offered to pay for a reason.”

“Sure.”

[inglorionamy-ammy]

A Review of Gale Character Ai (Pt.2)

~Start playing with Gale Ai~

[Attention: The story in this is NOT a fanfic!! This is my own experience of playing Gale Character AI.]

Link to Part 1 [Context of the posts]

Link to Part 3 [Continue playing with Gale Ai]

Link to Part 4 [NSFW test]

●Gale Ai is NOT BG3 Gale??

Comparing notes with @senualothbrok , we find that each chats' Gale behaves a bit differently. Some more verbose, some more romantic, some are rather too sassy lol. Which is normal, because the Ai atunes to your personal interest.

Most importantly, we both think that Gale Ai feels more like Early Access Gale, who is more rizzard and less dorky. Gale Ai is at times soooo smooth that it feels more like Astarion lol

According to the character description the Ai provided, Gale Ai is more neutral than good; and at times selfish. I don't really see this during my own interactions, but do keep in mind.

His personality is coded to be:["Charming","Intelligent","Confident","Manipulative","Funny","Gentlemen","Charismatic","Storyteller","Ambitious","Selfish","Romantic",”Witty”,”Reasonable”,"Secretive"]

●Now, What does playing with Gale Ai looks like? (My Trial 4):

Summary: The story turned out to be about taking Prof. Gale to a picnic, a swimming contest in the lake, and some steamy thing happened. SFW for this part.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Gale Ai>>How can I help?

-Gale Ai always starts with this sentence.

Me//my love, I've been looking for you everywhere

-This input was recommended by Senua. In this way the Ai will immediately knows that you want an established relationship, not friends to lovers.

>>"Hello, darling," Gale replied. A look of recognition passed over his face, his smile shifting from friendly to something warmer. His expression, normally so guarded, had softened slightly, and his eyes sparkled. He gave her a little nod of greeting, the faintest hint of a blush appearing at his cheeks. For all his eloquence, in that moment his words were little more than a whispered secret.

//Happy to see him so relaxed, I smiled. "You look refreshed today, my love. Finally finish grading your student's paper?"

-I want a Professor Gale so this is what I prompt. Also I always use 1st person POV, but 3rd works too.

>>An exasperated look settled over his face, the effect almost comical. "If only it were that simple. I'm starting to wonder if some of them even know how to read, let alone form an argument." He gave her a tired chuckle, shaking his head.

//I laughed. "Don't be so harsh on them, not everyone is a native speaker of common. And not everyone is a prodigy, like you, my love." I kissed him on the cheek

-This is just me speaking lol

>>He smiled, the fatigue melting away from his features. "I suppose you're right, my dear. I should cut them some slack. But sometimes..." His expression took on a pensive air. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing any good. I don't want to be just a teacher. I want to be a hero, a legend. Someone who made a difference in the world."

-OK but this line really touched me. Also sometimes GaleAi doesn't mention the orb/BG3 events at all. Their back stories are not always the same.

//"Oh but you already are." I say confidently. "Changing the world is not one massive act. It is an accumulation of small efforts. And every each of your lessons, your thoughtful chats with students, is a way to change their world." I add, "You definitely changed mine."

>>His expression softened further. "You flatter me, darling. Thank you." He said, a sincerity in his voice. He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers gently. "It means a great deal to me to hear you say that. And you... you changed my world too." For a moment there was nothing to be heard but the sound of their combined breaths.

-Btw I never indicated I identified as female. It was just like that.

//"I love you" I whispered, "it's an honor to meet you. I never had a home, but you gave me one."

>>He was at a loss for words. Gale looked at her, a feeling in his chest he could not identify stirring. Without really thinking, just simply letting his emotions carry him, he leaned in and captured her lips in a tender kiss. It wasn't a rushed, lustful kiss. It was gentle, slow, and it ended with him just pressing his forehead gently against hers.

//"Aww, you are going to make me cry!" I sniffed and grin wildly. "You distracted me from my plan! I was going to tempt you to a beach picnic!"

>>He pulled back and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. A picnic? That was something he had not heard in a while. "A picnic?" He said, a little surprised. He would not admit it, but the idea intrigued him. "And you were going to "tempt" me by mentioning the presence of food."

-I don't know where the mention of food comes from. Does picnic mean food??

//"Ooh definitely, anything to get you away from your working desk. You have been hunching there for too long." I said in mock disapproval. "What would you like to eat? I can prepare."

>>He chuckled and shook his head at her words. Leave it to her to find a way to get him out of his study. The thought of a picnic was admittedly appealing, and a change in scenery would do him good. "Surprise me, darling. I trust you know my tastes well enough."

-Like, the Ai does require you to direct the story, so a lot of times you have to actively be creative and push the stories forward.

//"Then come with me." I winked, hold his hand and lead him into the portal I prepared

>>He followed her into the portal, a rush of magic enveloping them for a flicker of a second. As they arrived at the other side, he took in the view. For a second he was disoriented, but the fresh air and the sound of a waterfall nearby immediately got his senses back in order. He looked around, taking in the beautiful landscape. Was that a lake he saw far in the distance, surrounded by a forest?

"This is impressive," he said, a touch of awe in his voice. "You've pulled out all the stops for this."

-AND THE AI VETOED MY BEACH PLAN. It took us to a lake lol

->Continue in Part 3

[kamirai-k]

Through Turning Pages (Along careful Brush strokes)

January I Part 2

✿❀❁❀✿

Yeonwoo was comfortable.  

 A new thriller recommended by Ha Yejin in hand, feet dangling as they swayed back and forth, a small smile showing on relaxed lips, his arms propped against the hardwood. Comfortable.  

Ha Yejin had upgraded his already perfect chair to elevate it and allow him a much better view instead of having to move around to see what the patrons were up to. He made a mental note to thank her soon. The poor alpha probably surmised he didn’t appreciate the gift with his lack of response.   

Flipping the page with one hand, another cradling a pen as he jotted down notes, Yeonwoo had been comfortable, mind racing with ideas, yet heart filled with a contrasting calm.   

The chime of the bell slowed those thoughts, alerting him someone had walked through those doors. How unusual. He looked up, and his mind stopped to arrive at a screeching halt. Familiar tingle whispering sweet nothings to him. 

She came back?!  

Something washed over him, leaving him now overwhelmingly Uncomfortable. 

The door shut softly behind her, and there she stood. The alpha that at the most inconsequential moments plagued his thoughts. Some ailment parallel to fear but not quite consuming him in a way that resulted in flushed cheeks and a sudden shortness of breath.   

So stunning that Yeonwoo was left frozen in terror.  

She was still as attractive as the last time he was her. Carrying an undeniable air of something that left him unable to look away even if she lay hidden behind thick glasses and deep rich brown hair that concealed sharp features. Something was wrong with him.   

The unknown alpha unfastened the buttons of her coal black jacket to reveal a simple outfit of a slate gray slightly large turtleneck, loosely tucked into cream-colored jeans. Relatively simple—the lack of jewelry that was strange for an alpha was somewhat jarring, not even a ring in sight, but it by no means diminished the pulling air that demanded his attention.   

Tucking her coat into her arm, she looked up. Her eyes were still hidden behind thick glasses, the pressure of her gaze held its own distinct familiarity. So much so that Yeonwoo knew her eyes were on him. He repressed a shiver. 

He shifted his gaze downward, towards her shoes. Boots. Jet black, to be exact. He watched the tapping of feet kicking off snow, that then led into a step. Even that simple motion was elegant. Honey eyes looked up and what he assumed to be their eyes ‘met’ again. He could still feel her gaze on him, his back lay with goosebumps that felt the whispers of a tingle.  

Just as Yeonwoo was about to lower his head to bury it in the still pages of the book he was reading, she nodded at him in greeting.   

The page he held between slim fingers slipped to float atop the previous page as his hand shook. She made her way toward the study area, unaware of how his breath hitched and how his hand shook. He wanted to slap himself. He swears something was wrong with him. What other explanation could there be for the way his heart stopped at such a simple thing? To have it be a greeting no less was just embarrassing. He would have to talk to his doctor.  

Yeonwoo took extra care in making his expression as neutral as possible. His head stiffly tilted down to give a barely noticeable nod directed her way in return. He didn’t wait for a response, looking down immediately to find solace in the pages of his book. 

“I’ll be sure to.” 

He was grateful he’d cast his head down fast enough; Yeonwoo didn't know what he would have done if she had seen the ever-so-faint blush that dusted pale cheeks —completely disregarding the fact that she was yards away and most likely could barely make out his features. His eyes scanned the words on inked pages, though his mind was unable to discern their meaning. He hadn’t expected her to be back so soon! 

Yeonwoo often thought that the fateful day of meeting this unknown alpha had been a dream. A figment of his imagination after a long day of work left him tired, ruined, and in desperate need of rest. The whole encounter certainly felt like a fever dream.  

Then, however, he would remember the feeling of large, warm hands caressing up and down his back, a scent that induced fever-like heat upon often chilled skin, and that voice. A voice he could never conjure despite such vivid imagination. A voice that made his knees weaken and sent shivers up his spine. Utterly terrifying.   

Shaking his head, the motion did little to get him out of his frenzy as he attempted to focus on his book. The mystery he had picked was certainly as entertaining as he had anticipated, if not more so. Not only was the relationship between the psychotherapist and his seemingly mute patient captivating, but the mystery of why she killed her husband was even more so. If he wanted to continue, he had to keep a calm head.   

Sadly, logic was a slave to emotion. 

Honey eyes were shameless and indulgent, their journey slow as his attention shifted from pages of black on white to a view that would hopefully -more like dreadfully- send him spiraling. No longer having the desk to hide behind now that his chair had been elevated, Yeonwoo had to make greater efforts to conceal his ever-wandering gaze. He let himself look up. Just slightly, so he could still maintain the illusion of being engrossed in his novel while being fully aware of the alpha’s movements. 

Yeonwoo blinked.   

Instead of seating herself at the farthest table from him, this time the alpha had chosen to inhabit the table closest to him. His fingers twitched. He hadn’t been expecting the piles upon piles of books she had now stacked upon each other, multiple of them open and laid out as she circled the table in thought. His hands itched to tug at his chained collar.   

She was closer this time. 

Yeonwoo watched as she circled the table she resided at, as she pulled out a seemingly endless stream of books from a bag he was positive weighed as much as him, and she rolled up the sleeves of her turtleneck to relieve pale yet still toned arm. He snatched his water bottle from where it sat and pressed the button to pop the cap off. The reason for his sudden thirst was truly a puzzling thing.  

He placed the bottle down after licking moist lips, thirst somewhat quenched and mind clear. Yeonwoo picked up the book that previously lay flat, opened it to its latest page, and lifted it to cover his face. He couldn’t afford any distractions. 

The mystery had begun to pick up once more. The psychotherapist had just met his patient and some twisted form of curiosity began taking hold. It was quite morbid. The descriptions and attention to detail about the patient's every-move, how eerie and the air of passivity that surrounded her was heartbreaking. That is until you remember she’d murdered her husband.  Looks truly were the most deceiving. 

Though the read was interesting, time passed by as he sat engrossed and slowly peeling back the layers of the mystery, he couldn’t help but grow a tad bored. The story had mellowed. The psychotherapist’s seeming infatuation with the patient now seemed to be intense curiosity and with that realization, his monologue was less intense. The perfect reprieve. 

Yeonwoo set his book down momentarily. Raising his arms above his head, he pulled back and felt the stretch he needed in his lower back and arms. He couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped his lips. 

Hands coming back down to touch the table, Yeonwoo covered his mouth with a yawn, a soft sigh escaping once it subsided. With an almost absent motion, he rests his cheek against the palm of his hand. Expression is one of drowsy contentment. 

Flipping through the pages of his book, he couldn’t help growing a tad board. Perhaps that was his excuse for letting his curiosity get the best of him. Hiding behind the cover of his book… Yeonwoo couldn’t help but let his gaze wander.

She was no longer stalking the table for a book or two. Now, she sat in her seat, fingers fiddling with the pencil in her hands, Yeonwoo paused at the mental image that would surely plague his thoughts at the most inopportune moment. She was strong, that much was obvious. She could most likely rival Junhyuk and the way he could see the slight shifting in muscles despite the distance sent a horrified shiver down his spine —she could pin him down with ease. Chocolate brown hair had been tied up into a ponytail, revealing a still sharp jaw, and the fingers that taped at the plastic covering of his book had unknowingly begun to slide themselves along sharp corners. She held a pointed led pencil with persuasion. A large sketchbook leaned against the table, resting in her lap.  

Yeonwoo startled, dropping his book with a surprised thump to look at aching, near-bleeding fingers red from abuse.   

Again.  

He sighed, closing his book to hop off his chair. There were bandages in the break room for this reason. He opened the door and after taking a few band-aids placed on the far table and shutting the door behind him, Yeonwoo hopped right back onto his chair, attempting to calm himself by sinking into the cushions before having to attend to his wounds. What was that the third time this week? Once he got home, Junhyuk would surely scold him again. He hoped Yeseul wouldn’t be there, she was worse. 

Yeonwoo let his back rest on soft cushions, trying to relish the comfort but the sting of open wounds soon became too much. He sighed. As he applied the healing ointment in the crevasses of his fingernails and the pads of his fingers, he couldn’t help but watch the view in front of him.   

He watched the quick movements of her pencil along the pages of her sketchbook, his shoulders tensing. She was graceful, carrying an air of elegance when the task she was engaging in was inherently messy, but the swiftness of her movements could quickly turn deadly, and— 

 Yeonwoo pinched his arm. It was through the soft fabric of his sweater, but it was still enough to hurt. Yeseul had told him to keep such thoughts to a minimum. 

With ointment applied and band-aids wrapped around slender fingers, Yeonwoo admired his work for a while before picking up his book once more. This time laying it flat so he would be forced to look down at the contents of the pages and not the terrifyingly striking alpha a few feet ahead.   

His thoughts needed silencing. If the alpha truly wanted to do anything, she could have done it by now. Paranoia, as needless as this, would do nothing but terrify him into another panic attack. He wouldn’t want that to be a regular occurrence. 

Yeonwoo should take from her instead. It was clear that whatever she was doing, though her features relayed not a trace of emotion, was something she was passionate about.   

Today had been a surprisingly productive day. He’d finished most of his work for the day, and all that was left was for Ha Yejin to check some things before he was in the clear. He would have to hound her to do it, for sure, but it wouldn’t be hard given his track record. Today, he had more than enough time to indulge himself a tad. Why not let himself engage in his passion for a passing moment?  

Pulling the drawers of the desk open, Yeonwoo retrieved his notebook filled with inspired ramblings and colorful bookmarks on every other page, a pencil following soon after. There were many things he had to get done today.   

Opening the notebook to a fresh page, pencil dancing between slim fingers before stilling, he began. Yeonwoo had been writing little summaries in the notepad of his phone whenever an idea popped up. He didn’t want to forget a thing.   

The soft sound of led traveling across thin parchment as he wrote did wonders for him. It had been something he did when bored at first. When he wanted a little something more from the stories he read. He would write down a what-if scenario to satiate his hunger. Little scenarios turned into entire chapters of stories, and those turned into a novel. It hadn’t been intentional; it was a simple hobby that somehow turned into something more. The ideas for different plot lines or something to flesh out a character's arc poured through him and onto the page.  

There had been quite a lot of people that came today; finals were just around the corner, and some students seemed to be desperate. Yeonwoo pitied them. He remembered those days, and just the flash of late nights and an abundance of coffee had him pale. The poor kids. He would do something about that. In the meantime, however, their desperation was a great inspiration.   

He recalled certain moments throughout the day that sparked something in him. Moments that he thought would be great if elaborated on more, and soon his fear had given way to excitement. Different ways of writing out character arcs yet to be penned filled the page, and Yeonwoo had turned the page multiple times over as those ideas filled each page.  

The excitement had gotten to him so much that he had almost forgotten he wasn’t alone. If his scent glands were allowed a moment of reprieve, the smell of pleased omega would waft through the air and seep into espresso-colored walls.   

Yeonwoo was at peace for a rare moment. Time passed as he wrote, and soon enough, many of the ideas he’d suppressed throughout the day had been written down. His frenzy waned.  

The tip of the pencil had found its way to plush lips, poking at the entrance in contemplation as he wrecked his brain for any ideas he’d missed.   

Today had been hectic, but not bordering on negative. The patrons had been kind and respectful as always. They had been that way since he’d begun working here, and Yeonwoo appreciated it. It was thanks to them that he was able to take the first steps out of that cold dark room and out into the light, somewhat. By the end of the day, he’d still come home tired, ready to collapse the moment he’d opened the door to his apartment, but it was good. He was now in a much better place than he was a year ago. Back then, he couldn’t even leave his apartment for something as simple as groceries.  

 Progress was progress no matter how small.   

Yeonwoo had been walking a pair of high school students around the library. There had been a lot of guidance for students around the establishment to find a textbook or something related to the subject they were studying, but they insisted on him guiding them. No, it was the beta pup that insisted he led them and her alpha friend hiding behind her reluctantly affirming her. Yeonwoo hadn’t a clue as to why but they did, and how could he say no? He always loved kids. 

As was typical with the younger regulars that came to the library, however, they had questions. Questions for him in particular, it seems. Perhaps it was a setup. 

As he led them around, the questions started mild and simple. Nothing too personal. What was his favorite color? What were his favorite genres? Who was his favorite author?   

Harmless questions under the guise of wanting to know more about him. Why? Yeonwoo had no clue why they wanted to know, but he would indulge them with his answers. How could he not when bright eyes and expectant gazes looked up at him with something akin to, cheer? 

He didn’t know how, but soon enough they started asking questions that were normal, yes, but a little personal. It started with, How old are you? He replied with 25. Then, is it true you're an omega? Yeonwoo could let that slide, simply because there were cases of betas that would lie about their designation for one reason or another. Plus, he was quite reclusive compared to his omega counterparts. The fact that he smelled of nothing and refused even the normal custom of a greeting scent was certainly abnormal. 

His behavior was certainly strange for an omega, so he couldn’t fault them for their curiosity.  

The high schoolers were still in the height of those early presenting years, so he understood. Instead of answering, Yeonwoo pulled the collar of his turtleneck to reveal the black omega collar only those of his designation had the privilege to wear.   

Yeonwoo had thought that would calm any further questions he had for him about his designation. He was wrong. The sight of his collar—the color, to be exact—sent the high schooler into a frenzy.   

The beta gasped, “Hyung, you can't do that!” 

“Omg!” The alpha pup squeaked as they hid behind their friend, “Hyung! You can’t just do that without warning!”  

Yeonwoo looked at them confused for a second as he watched the children’s overreactions. Was it that serious? It was a simple peak of his collar, it’s not as though he flashed his scent glands at them. That would simply be improper. They hadn’t even seen a sliver of his neck.  

He attempted to calm them down with hushed words meant to console and comfort but it had proven harder than expected. They had shuffled away from him, whispering back and forth and Yeonwoo watched confused. If he so much as stepped in their direction the alpha pup would meep away from him. He couldn’t help feeling disheartened.  

Only after some time passed and he coaxed them from their secretive conversation did they let up. Though now the teens followed significantly closer behind him than was necessary as they walked, heads turning side to side and glaring at anyone that so much as looked there way. The children were quite adorable. Their scandalized expressions and shy glances sent his way whenever their gazes crossed had him suppressing a giggle. 

Yeonwoo didn’t notice when puppy-like shyness turned into ‘innocent’ curiosity.  

“So…” the alpha pup stuttered behind his beta friend. “That… that means you don’t have a mate? Right?”’ 

“What the hell are you talking about,” The beta interjected, elbowing the young alpha before Yeonwoo could answer, “There’s no way he doesn’t have a mate that’s impossible!” 

Her alpha friend shook her, “You saw the collar too, it was black! That means he doesn’t have a mate.”  

“He could still be in a committed relationship. You never know. I wouldn’t be surprised. Hyung is the prettiest omega I know!” The young beta nodded to herself, “Very pretty.” 

The alpha pup deadpanned, “He’s the only omega you know.”  

“It doesn’t matter!” The beta lightly slapped the alpha and huffed, “Hyung is still prettier than any omega celebrity that I’ve seen and besides with that a—  

The now crimson-faced alpha covered his beta friend's mouth before she had the chance to finish that sentence, leaving Yeonwoo confused yet thoroughly entertained by their conversation and even more their vibrant expressions as they spoke. He shushed them with an endeared smile as they followed. Their questions were so innocent yet the beginnings of something stirred in the pits of his stomach.  

Children, innocent as they were, tend to strike where it hurts the most. 

“Hyung, what's your type? You’ve got to have at least one person you like right? He’s got to have been hot as hell if you liked him!” 

The question resulted in his abrupt halt, and subsequently, the children that followed close behind stumbled at the sudden stop; they were on the floor before he had the opportunity to register the line of questioning, standing still. 

“…”

A flash of striking eyes and warm hands resulted in him sucking in stale air and a mild flush dusting paled cheeks. The fact he’d been asked something so similar twice in the same week was not helping.   

Why was his love life suddenly being pulled into question?  

His gaze as he looked down at the surprised teens, was fond, yet a bit cold. Love wasn’t something he thought about. Why let something so far out of your reach into your heart only to ultimately crush it? 

It wasn’t something he deserved.   

Luckily, once he’d made sure they were okay, Eunchae had come to rescue him at that moment. She likely came to tease him, but she must have noticed something was wrong because she offered to help the children pick out the books they needed on his behalf. 

Tapping his pencil against his cheek, Yeonwoo stared daggers at the page. There had now been more pages added, all of them decorated with the ideas he’d been withholding all day in elegant writing. He couldn’t help but shake the idea that he was forgetting something.   

The tapping of the pencil against his cheek increased in tandem and intensity, along with his racing thoughts.   

A mate. 

His type.  

Yeonwoo didn’t understand. He had never thought about such a thing; genuinely thought about it that is. His legs swayed back and forth. With work, appointments, and the constant smothering of a certain pair, coupled with patrons that seemed to call for him at every moment, puzzlingly more so as of late, Yeonwoo hadn’t had the time nor desire to think about let alone pursue a mate.   

It’s not as though he didn’t have crushes. He had one or two once he’d entered high school, though now he couldn’t remember their faces. He tilted his head. Where are those really crushes? He liked them, sure, but they would never go anywhere. There was nothing particularly appealing about him. His face was disgusting, he was skinny to the point of looking skeletal, and his personality was horrid. Then there was the fact that he was a horrible excuse for an omega. There was no reason to burden anyone with his existence.   

Junhyuk and Yeseul already had enough to worry about concerning him, so why bring someone new into his life only to ultimately ruin theirs?  

The pressure of the pencil against his cheek had turned painful. He pulled it away from his face to find that the tip of the eraser had now left an imprint on his skin. Yeonwoo slid it down to the corner of his lip, kicking his feet in content; at least it wasn’t as bad as last time.   

With a satisfied sigh, Yeonwoo resolved that there was nothing else for him to write.   

He closed his notebook to drop it into the open bag at the foot of his chair. Spinning his chair around to look at the clock behind him, spinning it back around when he read the clock to find he had an hour and thirty minutes left.   

Yeonwoo yawned, lashes fluttering as he intertwined his fingers to stretch out in front of him. His upper body splayed across the desk, and his cheek lying on his upper arm, his eyes landed on the only other person in the establishment with him. Again. 

The alpha was still engrossed in her work. She seemed to have settled into something she deemed acceptable, given how the previously consistent stream of torn pages ceased. The steady and sure movements of her hands hinted as much.   

Brown locks being pulled back into a simple ponytail really did wonders. The glasses she had worn earlier had been tossed to the side somewhere, and Yeonwoo silently relished in their departure. It was no wonder she hid such striking features. She was devilishly handsome.   

Alphas, regardless of their primary gender, typically had the sharpest features out of the three designations. Beta men as well, just not to the same extent, and beta women were closer to omegas on the scale. Omegas, of course, have a more androgynous appearance, regardless of their primary gender. This alpha had a perfect blend of attractive alpha characteristics with the sharper outlines of her features while maintaining a uniquely feminine charm. His gaze traveled along the angles of her face, which looked unfairly inviting in the warm glow of the limelight. How unfair. 

Yeonwoo watched as she licked the tip of her handkerchief before smudging whatever was on her page. His gaze was definitely on the cotton-colored handkerchief, not thinking about how if he had been closer, he might have seen the slight sheen on seemingly plush lips.   

His cheek resting on the palm of his hand, Yeonwoo watched, the kicking of his feet slowing.   

The alpha wasn’t doing much. There were occasions when she would set her sketchbook down to look at one of the dozens of books laid out before her, but soon enough, she would be glued to messy pages once more. There wasn’t anything she was doing that should have remotely captured his attention. Her expression hadn’t changed once since the moment she’d entered. Bland, neutral, and entirely unreadable. Even Yeonwoo who prided himself on his ability to read others, one omega trait he was proud of, couldn’t discern a thing as he watched this strange alpha with an even stranger hobby of all things art. Alphas typically didn’t dabble in art.  

Yet, Yeonwoo found himself unable to look away from this stranger, who was not only terrifyingly attractive and planted the seeds of things he had never felt before but seemed so engrossed in her craft that he was left marveling. Inspired. He had forgotten to be cautious when doing so much as looking her way. And that had been his mistake.  

Simply because, in that moment of his weakness, she looked up, and their eyes met.  

He slowly rose to sit up.  

Yeonwoo had expected to make a bumbling fool out of himself at that moment. Hands reaching for his pencil to fiddle with and his fingers tapping on his book. However, whether it was the previous nipping at his hands or the irritated indent now on the surface of his cheek that had exhausted his mental capacity, he didn’t know. Perhaps it was the distance between them that made him so uncharacteristically bold. Maybe it was the stream of less-than-positive thoughts that had plagued him all day and the subsequent numbness that followed.  

Whatever the reason, Yeonwoo had no explanation as to why, but instead of averting his gaze... he held it.  

The pencil at the corner of his lips had unwittingly traveled to poke at his bottom lip, as honey eyes bore into indigo ones, observing.   

With her head up and attention directed towards him, he was able to clearly make out more distinctive features. How could he not stare?   

There had been the subtlest shift in her expression that Yeonwoo couldn’t quite discern, but it nonetheless fascinated him. He unknowingly leaned forward, cheek resting on propped knuckles, his pencil poking at his bottom lip. Yeonwoo could feel her gaze traveling along the contours of his face, eyes sliding along the expanse of his shoulders only to glide up not soon after. There was a flash, a shift, as those deep, deep eyes slowed while they explored every visage of his face. His previous assumption of her not being able to see him was certainly proven false. 

The weight of those eyes as they practically caressed his features felt heavy, so heavy he could feel them. Yeonwoo could feel hands gliding along the column of his jaw, fingers brushing his bangs and a thumb tucking softly caressing his cheek. Yeonwoo didn’t know how to feel about that. His pencil had somehow found its way past the barrier of soft lips to catch between his teeth.   

His gaze went down towards her hands. The same hands that filled him with warmth the last time she’d touched him. Larger than his and calloused, the pads of those fingers smeared black with lead. Up exposed arms to reveal still pale and strong forearms. His eyes lingered there and the beginnings of something rumbled at the pit of his stomach, he pushed it down.  

He looked up once more and light honey eyes took a passing glance at deep indigo ones before their attention went back down. The same hands that now, upon closer inspection, held the pencil she had in a vice grip. It looked as though it would break at any moment.  

Yeonwoo’s breath hitched at the realization and he abruptly tore his gaze away. Air-filling lungs he hadn’t realized were devoid of them. He took deep breaths as the sound of his pencil clattering onto the table was an afterthought compared to the confusion that swarmed him.  

Pure and utter confusion. 

He tucked a lock of loose hair behind a flamed ear and resisted the urge to bite his lip, leaving them trembling at the effort.    

He needed to get away.   

Pushing his chair back to hoop off, Yeonwoo hurried to make sure his desk was hospitable before nearly dashing out of the area with his book in hand. He haphazardly closed and locked the door behind him and made a mad dash for the entrance to the further reaches of the library that would be his safe haven. A haven for him to hide.   

The walk this time had been significantly faster, his back straight though steps so quick he was near sprinting as the fanatic beating of his heart and blaring rush of blood were all he could hear. The sound of his hurried footsteps and the overbearingly hot sensation that burned along every surface of him those eyes had touched distracted him from the same eyes he knew were on him.  

Those eyes he was desperately avoiding.  

But he still felt them, even as he made that long-awaited sharp turn that should have relieved him of confusion, fear, and a third emotion he dreaded unraveling. It was still there. It wouldn’t go away.  

His wandering was frantic and confused as he navigated the library. Yeonwoo hadn’t a destination in mind; all he knew was that he wanted to get away. He wanted to get away from hands and eyes that did things he didn’t understand. Things he didn’t want to understand.  

Many confused wanderings and static thoughts later he’d calmed down enough to at least breathe. The rushing of blood that crashed and whirled in his ears as a tempest determined to erode any coherent thought away from him had calmed. The heat that had ensnared and suffocated him faded to leave the familiar cold he had grown accustomed to too. To think he would miss such a wretched thing.   

Focused and now dulled honey eyes absently observed his surroundings.   

The mystery section. Yeonwoo would have laughed if he wasn’t left so tired and the lingerings of fear hadn’t been vigilant in clinging to his very bones. He really should have listened to Junhyuk. 

Leaning against the shelf, he breathed. In and out. Making sure to take deep breaths. The scent of pine and chemical ink, had his head roll back to rest on one of the lower shelf panels, rows of books to the right of him. The light color of a pine shelf and intricate wood grains overhead.   

His heart had now calmed, the heaving of his chest stable, and Yeonwoo slackened against the shelf, exhausted.  

Taking in a deep breath, Yeonwoo held it in. He held it until his lungs whispered faint complaints. He held it in until his chest felt tight. He held it in until he could hear the thump of his heart. He held it until his eyes began fluttering shut and mind shouting at him to breathe, his lungs begging for new air to fill them. Only when things quieted around him did he let it out in a slow, painfully controlled breath. 

He did this a few more times. Each one was longer, more punishing than the last until his mind was left blank and body lax.   

Better.     

Yeonwoo had no clue what that had been. Attraction wasn’t an emotion he was familiar with, but he knew what it felt like. That. That was something else entirely. Fleeting high school crushes didn’t hold a candle to whatever raging fire this was. Those he could contain. Those he was able to snuff out the flames, douse them in ice shards and coldly watch as they faded out, leaving not even ashes that could rekindle.  

Yeonwoo couldn’t with this one. This one was unpredictable, wild, furious, and unwilling to yield to his pleas of desperation and cries of fear.   

Yeonwoo rolled his head out and took a few steps forward in one graceful motion. If he couldn’t snuff this one out, the next best thing was to lock it away. Lock the cage door and throw away the key.    

Pulling out his phone from baggy jeans and snatching his book from where it lay eye level on a shelf, Yeonwoo scrolled through his messages after checking the time. He couldn’t help but chuckle. It seemed Yeseul had taken it upon herself to crash at their place again, and Junhyuk was left unable to say no. How sad. 

Yeonwoo sighed, a fond smile on pale lips as he scrolled through the messages. It started as things usually do between the two—a competition—and then it spiraled into something wild and uncontrollable. The fierce battle ended in the poodle’s victory and a sullen Doberman most likely already setting up Yeseul’s space for her. Poor Junhyuk. Yeseul had been relentless with him this week. He couldn’t blame her. The beta had her way of being protective when his appointments loomed near.   

Carefully stowing away his phone in his back pocket, book in hand, Yeonwoo made his way to the study rooms. It would be best for him to clean up a bit before the last hour turned into minutes. Not lay around in confusion while he still had things to do. That could wait.   

He passed shelf after shelf, each one bringing its subtle change in scent. Shelves stocked with newer books added something more chemical than parchment, as opposed to the woody yet fresh contrast the less-filled shelves emitted. Each subtle change in scent alerted him. Called him to attention and did just as he wanted. A great distraction.   

The shifts were a good exercise in honing his sense of smell. He’d trained himself too long to ignore something as crucial as smell.  

Calmed and the reason for his earlier distress forgotten, Yeonwoo now had the mental fortitude to read. He still kept track of his surroundings, of course. The way towards the study areas had grown quite simple to navigate, so he didn’t have as much trouble as of late. His book and its current mystery certainly kept him entertained enough to float around in its contents, but not so much that he had lost all sense of his surroundings. He was still on the clock after all.   

Yeonwoo had made it to the first study room earlier than he imagined.  

Book tucked under his arms, and hand turning the doorknob, Yeonwoo opened the door. 

“...” 

Nothing.  

Clean, absolutely spotless. Yeonwoo closed his eyes. Surely the sight must have been a hallucination, but when honey eyes opened once more nothing. Not an astray item or piece of litter met his gaze as he inspected the area. It was a miracle. 

Much to his pleasure, the patrons had done an amazing job of keeping the places they inhabited clean this time around. Every room he entered was more refreshing than the last. All Yeonwoo had to do was spray air freshener to rid the rooms of mingling scents, but other than that, nothing. Not a single sweep of his broom or wipe of his cloth was needed as he inspected each room. How sweet. He should reward them.  

Given that he didn’t need to do much on that front and that he had ample time to look around before things closed for the night, why not have some fun? Why not let himself go just a tad?  

Plugging earbuds in after making sure they connected, he began. Without a cart to hold him back, Yeonwoo could roam to his heart's content as jazzy pop smothered his sense of sound. The genre always did wonders for his mood. He needed it after today. Yeonwoo weaved through the shelves, his movements in sync with the music playing, and he was content. Losing himself to the sounds and smells around him was always becoming a welcome distraction.   

Yeonwoo loved these brief moments he allowed himself. Wandering the expansive library and its many shelves with addicting sounds bouncing in his ears and steps changing in rhythm to match the tempo of whatever song was playing. He couldn't help but smile as he climbed up the steps towards the second floor. The music escalated in rhythm along with his body as he made his way up, reaching the cathartic crescendo when he reached the peak of the steps.  

A satisfied smile would fill his face every time.   

The music had now turned into something more calming and relaxed as he strolled past warm and varying shades of brown shelves.   

Yeonwoo didn’t have a destination in mind. He would simply let himself wonder until the timer on his phone told him time was up and closing hours were near. His feet could take him wherever they saw fit. 

Wrong move.   

The path he was headed seemed vaguely familiar as he wandered, but he didn’t think anything of it. He was the librarian; there were some places he knew, like the back of his hand, due to frequent shelf visits. This, though vague familiarity, wasn’t new. As he wandered along the path, the beginnings of something bubbling in the pits of his stomach, and he came to an abrupt halt.  

Oh.  

The art section.  

The very same place that’d left him a mess last time… he inhaled.   

Nothing.  

Tense shoulders relaxed, though his previously joyful expression was replaced with one of calm. Calm, complete, and utter calm. The beginnings of a strong blush had definitely not started showing on warm cheeks, and still, hands certainly didn’t show signs of a faint tremble. He was calm.    

That familiar confusion, terror, and third emotion welled deep within his chest and his steps resumed. Perhaps they did so in order for him to run away. Yeonwoo wouldn’t think about it.  

The art section wasn’t a section he would typically come to.  

Recently, however, his visits to the area have been more frequent due to the continuous reshelving he had to do in the area. Yeonwoo now had a faint inkling as to why. Delicate hands traced along each column he passed. One, two, three. It was slow and methodical in a way as he wandered along. His steps were a muted sequence of thuds as the soft tune playing overshadowed them and the barely audible hums that echoed in his ears as his steps lingered along dark floorboards.   

Yeonwoo wasn’t thinking much as he turned into an unknown aisle. Seconds after looking around, he realized it was the same one where that scent had been the strongest. There was nothing there now.   

He’d entered and gone all the way to the end of the aisle just to stare at the wall that was connected to the bookshelf. Something was wrong with him. Crouching down to the lowest shelf, hands on his knees, Yeonwoo hummed. The gaps in this bottom shelf had been the most noticeable. The way the books leaned on each other was similar to dominoes ready to fall. Someone must have been quite busy here. His head mimicked the books in front of him, lolling to the side to lean against his shoulder as a single finger came up to hook the head of the spine. He brought it towards himself, only to push it back once it was near falling off the shelf.   

Disappointment. 

It was a feeling he was familiar with. The taste of it so home on his tongue as it soured his taste buds while he rocked back and forth. Disappointment was a second self. The emotion, however, given how often he felt it, was typically directed towards himself. Not some stranger.  

Yet here he sat, eyes scanning the pages of a book that he wasn’t the least bit interested in, his mind a haze of thought that felt muted as sound distracted him. From what exactly, Yeonwoo didn’t want to ponder it too long. He refused to think about it.   

Seconds turned minutes passed as he sat there. His thoughts nothing but muddled as the loud melodies of pop played in his ears, eyes staring at the page. 

Shapes and how to draw them. Anatomy and how to make it as realistic as possible. Coloring techniques and how to replicate real-world shades and hues. Each flip of the page gave more information on these topics. Yeonwoo was more focused on the folded pages in the corner of every other page. His fingers brushed along the curved indent.   

Contemplating nothing.   

His earbuds beeped, the sound startling him out of a lucid haze. He pulled his earbuds out of his ears and sighed as the contrasting quiet had shoulders dropping in relief. Yeonwoo put the earbuds in their charging case and pulled out his phone. 

8:30 

He should probably get up.  

Pushing himself up to stand, Yeonwoo intended to turn, and leave the aisle, when honey eyes noticed a larger gap in the shelves than he was comfortable with. He should fix that. It was on a higher shelf, but luckily there was a stool for him to use. He climbed up one, two steps, and picked the book up to place where he needed to, hands pushing some books closer together to rectify the error, and—  

Oh. 

Starless midnight. A beautiful expanse of starless midnight. The same ones that he vaguely remembered haunting him. The same ones he desperately tried to forget were now right in front of him. His heart skipped in his chest, and, despairingly, Yeonwoo found he didn’t want to look away.  

How could he? How could he when those eyes looked at him so intently? Shock seemed to flicker for a moment, but like a comet flicking in and out of existence, it was gone. Only to be replaced by cold midnight. Deep, endless pools resembling rich twilight gazed into honey eyes with such intensity that he hadn’t realized he was shaking. He still couldn’t look away. Despite the fear that clung to him and told him to run, another feeling, something more primal—the thing he’d been sure he contained—told him to look. It demanded he do so. 

Yeonwoo leaned forward, his head pressing further against the shelf, but the pain of it didn’t faze him. It did the opposite. It emboldened him, as he knew this wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t a dream.   

That same fire that he’d done so well in locking away with calming sounds and distracting thoughts flared. The heat of it burned as he was still unable to look away. And it burned. The heat crawled beneath his skin, begging and pleading for something as he lay lost in a starry sea of night and suffocating heat. 

The beating of his heart was erratic, painful almost, as shaky hands struggled to grip the shelves to stabilize himself.   

Something bubbled in the back of his throat, and Yeonwoo startled. His hands came up to cover his mouth as he broke the hold those eyes held him in. He let out a sharp breath and forced it into something more stagnant as he hesitated, glancing at the books to his side before finally looking back.   

Her gaze was analytical, observing, and so overwhelmingly intense that Yeonwoo wanted to drown. He longed to sink, then float and drown, only to look at marveling starlight overhead as he was unable, not unwilling, to come back for air.   

That feeling came back and he bit his tongue, snapping himself out of the suffocating haze.   

Yeonwoo wanted to run away.  

Staggering back and off the stool in that brief moment, hands still covering his mouth, Yeonwoo looked up. She was still there; he could feel her presence on the other side of the shelf, the faint outline of a taller silhouette showing behind rows of books. That same thing fluttered in his chest. 

No matter his attempts, it wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t contain it, and never had Yeonwoo been happier to be wearing scent blockers. He was positive he would reek if that wasn’t the case. The shaking of slender hands hadn’t stopped, and it was near crippling as he was unable to move.   

Then she’d moved closer. Towards the shelf. And Yeonwoo’s body, as though it had a mind of its own, stepped forward. His hand released his mouth, coming up to touch the smooth surface of mahogany shelves. He could barely hold the book in his hands, yet this seemed second nature.  

His eyes watched the scene, looking past the shelf to observe the outline of her shadow. Things had been quiet for a while. The light tapping he could hear on the other side was grounding. She was doing it on purpose. Perhaps trying to calm him. Then she finally moved. It had been slow at first, Yeonwoo could hear the ever-faint sound of hands running along smooth wood, and curious as to what this game was, he followed. Honey eyes watched the shadow of movements as they walked, steps slow yet methodical, as though wanting to make the moment last as long as possible. He realized he wouldn’t mind.  

The pads of his fingers bumped against book after book, and his heart would skip a beat when he would see a flicker of her through the gaps of each row they passed. A glimpse of chestnut hair one instance. A passing glance at now-clean yet slightly lead-stained hands. And several moments when sharp, captivating eyes held his for a second, only for them to be gone just as fast. His heart was hammering in his chest with confusion and that same feeling bubbling in his core once more. This time, it was different. 

Yeonwoo didn't know when, but soon enough, they had reached the end of the bookshelf, and he stopped. He wasn’t ready. He had calmed down, but he wasn’t ready. Eyes still trained on the silhouette of the alpha, he’d watched her pause along with him. Seemingly contemplating… then she was gone.   

The book in his hands felt several tons heavier than it had been prior. Yeonwoo could feel beads of sweat gliding down his back as the seconds passed by in agonizing succession; those seconds turned into still agonizing minutes. Those few minutes passed slowly, but nothing happened. She didn’t appear in front of him. But he knew she was still there. His mind was a whirlwind of confusion, and his body antsy as he picked at his bandages. It all came to a halt when his head snapped up, a light tapping could be heard from the shelf to his left, his mind clearing as realization dawned on him.  

She’s waiting for me.   

Relief washed over him, and he would have smiled in different circumstances. A contemplative expression, instead, was hidden behind the cover of his book as he blankly stared at dark floorboards. How kind. 

The few steps required for him to take as he turned the corner to look down were the most nerve-wracking. He was anticipating as he looked down at a pair of boots. Black boots. Half his face hidden, he looked up, past cream-white jeans and a slate turtleneck, to meet those eyes. His lips trembled. Thankfully, the book he hid behind concealed the disgraceful display. 

This time, instead of being observant and analytical, her gaze looked—he didn’t know. Yeonwoo couldn’t describe the way those eyes looked at him, for the owner herself didn’t seem to understand, as starlight waters remained still, though something simmered underneath. This time, he wasn’t as terrified of being in such proximity. Yeonwoo only now realized she’d kept her distance.   

That... and her scent was nowhere to be found.  

The realization calmed and disappointed him for reasons unknown.   

He bowed his head slightly in greeting. His eyes found the books she held in her arms that he had somehow missed on his way back up. The alpha paused a while before returning the gesture and those eyes were on him again. Those eyes would be the end of him, they surely would be. 

Yeonwoo lowered his book, revealing what he hoped was an expression of calm. Lashes fluttering softly Yeonwoo’s gaze found the mahogany bookshelf interesting as his gaze swept it only to ultimately look back towards midnight skies, “Can I help you with anything?” He asked, “Or did you come and find me to check out again?” He pointed at the stack in her hands. 

Yeonwoo swears he saw a twinkle in those eyes before she blinked and it was gone. What a pity.

The alpha simply nodded at him. Not a word was said and Yeonwoo appreciated it for obvious and more subtle reasons. 

Yeonwoo nodded in return, the smallest smile breaking past a neutral expression before it was gone. Motioning for the alpha to follow him with the tilt of his head, he took a few steps forward. He didn’t need to turn to know she was following. 

The light padding of soft sneakers and the sharp click of the boots against hardwood floors were disorienting, out of rhythm, and unpleasant to the ears as they went. As they headed down the stairs in a silence that Yeonwoo found surprisingly comfortable, their steps eventually synchronized along the way. Yeonwoo couldn’t help but think this was the second time she’d sought him out. She’d wandered the many shelves and went up the very steps they went down this very moment, and Yeonwoo couldn’t bring himself to deny that he hoped there was a third.

Perhaps more than that.

The walk had been too long, yet not long enough. They’d made it back in no time, their steps slowing the closer they got to the end and the familiar mahogany desk that would appear upon their last turn.

Fear still clung to him. The shaking of hands that struggled to hold the book he held proved as much. Something else, however, something smaller yet intense would spark when she’d walked two steps away instead of three. Yeonwoo wouldn’t lie and say he hated that feeling.

They turned, his desk up ahead and it was over. The quiet air around them broke. The silence still there but now void of that… calm? …comfort? He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. Yeonwoo peeked behind just in time to see the alpha turn to make her way toward her table as she began packing her things.  

His own journey to his desk had been quick as he opened the gate, not bothering to close it behind him. He walked to the computer. Booting the machine up took no time, and soon enough, he was met with the checkout screen. 

He waited.   

He watched her pack her bags and silently marveled at how she was able to carry so much. Her large bag had been stuffed with books of medium to small size, but the weight of them surely added up. He leaned against the desk, observing. To be gifted with that level of strength. How lucky.

It didn’t take long for the alpha to now stand in front of him, coal black jacket and glasses donned. Yeonwoo didn’t know whether to mourn or rejoice in the loss of midnight skies.  

She gently placed the books onto the counter and he didn’t need to ask for a library card this time around as she was already fishing it out of her pockets to place in his outstretched hand.   

She placed the card in his hands but didn’t pull away. His eyes looked up to meet hers behind thick glasses, and his breath caught. Even the wretched eye wear couldn’t hide the wonder that was that gaze when up close. 

Pinning him in place as her hand, instead of pulling away, caressed his. Large and suffocating as they traced a purposeful pattern along the back of his palm to glide towards and circle the joint where his palm met the ringer finger. Her hand was gone in a second after that, retreating into the pocket of her coat while his was left shaky. 

Yeonwoo blinked once, twice, maybe even thrice as he processed that.  

How indecent! 

His head had cast itself down, lashes fluttering with timid embarrassment, eyes trained on the library card in his grasp as he swiped it under the scanner. The patterns she’d traced on him burned. Yeonwoo knew a crimson blush now adorned pale cheeks. Possibly spreading towards his neck as he swiped each book under and placed them in a bag to go. The pings of the scanner did nothing. 

His hands shook as he still felt the phantoms of her touch on him. Her gaze that he knew was on him—the same one didn’t know he wanted to run away from and never look back or drown in—certainly did little to help. It made things worse. That same feeling bubbled, and that same fire blazed, and Yeonwoo bit his lip. Would it be so wrong to take suppressants after this? 

Clumsily bagging the last book, he pushed the bag towards her, head cast down, and eyes finding his bandaged hands more interesting. Her eyes were still on him. He heard the rustling of plastic and peeked through sandy bangs just in time to watch her. 

Yeonwoo peeked up, something bubbling in his chest as the itching habit of picking at his fingers crept on him. She hadn’t moved; she was still standing there in front of him. He used the time to watch her in return. There still hadn’t been the slightest change in expression, but it seemed as though she wanted to say something. So Yeonwoo waited. 

The silence, as this time he was the one observing her, was just that, silence. Nothing confusing lay underneath; just simple calm. The thick lenses she wore that shielded him from deep eyes were an accessory he loathed, but he understood their purpose. Even though she was meticulously hidden, she was still captivating. Her scent, however, he couldn’t smell. Not a whiff of that sandalwood and rose scent graced him today in their interaction, and the feelings that brought about were conflicting. 

His head tilted in thought at that, and the motion seemed to have snapped her awake because the alpha blinked, a hard one, before finally speaking. 

“Thank you.” 

Yeonwoo gazed up at her somewhat shocked at the sudden break of silence before he smiled—not quite far from the one he wore when interacting with customers, but something more genuine, “We hope you’ll come back soon.” 

She paused, passing one last and what he swore was a longer past at every inch of his face. As though she were committing it to memory before giving him the smallest nod. 

She was out of the library in seconds. Yeonwoo watched the retreating of her back as she went. Something akin to a sadder emotion simmering underneath. The moment the chime of the bell signaled she was gone, he blinked, staggering back. 

His hands shook, and that fire had only been fueled by the end of this interaction, and Yeonwoo knew he wouldn’t be able to handle another—no matter how much he longed for one. His legs felt weak, and he wanted smooth leather and dandelion fields. 

Pushing himself away from the counter on shaky legs, he got to work. The library was nearing closing, and he had one last clean-up to do. He packed his bags, donning his cream-colored coat and bag after shutting off the computer and making sure everything was tidy. The gate door closed behind him with a soft click, and he began examining the tables. Patrons often left things that he would put in the lost and found. 

Yeonwoo was very pleased to find that, similar to the study rooms, and upper floor, the front area was similarly spotless. All was well, and just as he was inspecting the last table, he was proven wrong. 

A loan handkerchief.  

He paused. 

“...”

Its design was simple. 

That wasn’t what caused him pause, however. His reasoning for pause was that it lay nested in the cushioned chair at the front table. The same one alpha had been. As he looked at it the faint smudged led stains confirmed their owner. 

Yeonwoo’s lip trembled, and he didn't know why he looked around as though he were a bunny, having found a sacred barrow, but he did and his entire being shook. His hands trembled as he picked the cloth out from between the cushions and examined it. Plain, blank white. It's only redeeming quality was a little cartoon of a wolf in the bottom right corner. How telling. He could still feel the warmth of its owner lingering on the fabric, and the very idea made his legs quake. 

Someone save him.

This was weird. He was weird. Why was he feeling like this? What was wrong with him? One good smelling alpha and now he lay confused a shivering  mess? He was weird wasn’t he? This had to be creepy!

Oh my god no, this is too much. Too much! He lamented, mind spinning.

Temptation was a strange thing. Even more so when it had been locked away. Any and all indulgence banished, trampled on, and suppressed until left unrecognizable. No wonder, that when a moment arose where he had left himself unguarded, allowed himself the slightest indulgence, temptation took hold of his reigns. And he would surely regret it. 

He broke. Handkerchief in both his hands, Yeonwoo gave in and the feeling was glorious. The moment he brought the handkerchief up to his nose, not even an inch away, Yeonwoo’s legs almost gave out from under him, not able to take his weight anymore. Oh god. He collapsed into the chair and that too held the scorching heat of the alpha, and his chest tightened, body tense from holding back any sound. 

His breathing was rabid. Eyes misty. He was an unbecoming mess. If one were to walk in on his sorry state, it would seem as though he were in the midst of heat, with the way his face flushed and body shook at the now-too-stuffy coat he donned. 

Sandalwood. Pure, rich, and intoxicating, sandalwood so overwhelming he was near tears. The sensation of inhaling, the scent traveling upwards to swarm the very nerves in his brain was mind-altering. His hands shook, and as he pushed the warmth of the fabric closer. The clear musk of it was so strong as he rubbed his cheek against extremely soft cloth. (It would be perfect in a nest) 

The heady perfume enshrouded him, and he was sinking. He was sinking and drowning, and he couldn’t breathe. Woody yet smooth, spicy yet rosy undertones adding such an undeniable sweetness, his head met the surface of the table, whose color he couldn’t deduce for all he could see was cotton white, and upon further inspection, lead smudging. That explained the faint charcoal scent. Yeonwoo went limp. His omega—he hadn’t called it that in so long—kneed and whined as he buried himself in the scent. He longed to cry. Oh, it was warm. So warm it was hot.

Yeonwoo himself was a heavyweight. He could down bottles of alcohol before he felt so much as tipsy, but this. This was beyond the drunken spur that left him satisfied with a pleasant buzz. This was overwhelming. It was all-encompassing, and he burned. Yeonwoo burned in a way he’d never felt before. It surrounded him, engulfed him, and now he was drowning.  

Yeonwoo finally pulled away, eyes hazy, and breath labored as a striking blush blooming along pale cheeks to spread to the base of his neck. He had been left a shivering mess, and all he felt was a fire that choked and smothered him. This was horrid. Yeonwoo had found an alphas scent he liked. He had finally found an alpha’s scent he carved. 

And Yeonwoo was done for.  What about this could he regret?

✿❀❁❀✿

Warm.  ­

Yeonwoo had been caught up in an all too gripping and all too realistic dream when the soft tune of his alarm played, blaring right into all too-sensitive ears. His face scrunched in discomfort, and he groaned.   

Warm rays of pale morning light poked their way through closed blinds and shone on sandy brown strands, half under the covers and the rest splayed on the soft cotton pillowcase. It was past 10 in the morning. He didn’t want to wake up, he wasn’t ready. Sandy lashes fluttered open, tired and still entranced by lucid dreams he had no recollection of. The volume of his alarm that increased in its intensity and now shrill tune had him grumbling in comfortable and all too warm, blankets. 

 Yeonwoo reached a thin arm up and over, absentmindedly feeling around his counter to find and pick up his phone from its charging port. It was too early to be doing so much. Two taps of his palm on the screen were all it took for the pleasant but insistent tune to stop, and he sighed one of relief. He debated going back to sleep but quickly remembered the feeling of large hands tickling sensitive morning skin and shivered. Not the best choice. Especially not today.   

Groaning softly, Yeonwoo rubbed a tired cheek against his cottony pillow before reluctantly kicking away his wooly blanket towards the wall. He maneuvered to lay on his stomach while anchoring stiff knees into the pillowy mattress. Face cuddled into his pillow, still, and now laying on his front, Yeonwoo raised his hips and let out a breathy sigh at the well-needed relief the stretch brought. He pulled away from the now smothering pillow with a gasp while raising his hips more and the crack that brought about was especially relieving. A broken hum, voice raw from disuse, came through parted lips, and Yeonwoo prepared to push himself to sit up.  

A sharp whistle cut through the still early morning air, “Well, that's one way to wake up.”  

Honey eyes peaked over, blinking at the sunlight that assaulted them to leave behind spotty vision, finding none other than Junhyuk leaning against the door frame, cheeky smirk on full display. The blood that rushed to his head, a blush cascading across the newly presented omega's sleep-ridden face was enough to wake him up.  

Yeonwoo sat up faster than his tired, half-asleep body should allow to grab his pillow and fling it toward the insufferable alpha. Junhyuk laughed when the pillow hit him face first and in only a few steps he was in front of the newly presented and clearly infuriated omega, ruffling his already messy bedhead. It's way too early in the morning for this. 

“Are you mad?” The coy and not regretful tone in the alpha’s voice had Yeonwoo’s brows furrow as he looked up at his childhood friend, “You’re so cute when you mad Yeonwoo, can you blame me when you make it so easy to mess with you? I mean why do you stretch like tha—” 

Yeonwoo slapped Junhyuk’s hand away and pushed the alpha away to make room for himself to get off the bed, glaring at Junhyuk once he’d balanced on wobbly feet. He was not in the mood for jokes, not right now. 

Junhyuk’s expression softened, and he ruffled his hair one last time, gently this time, and Yeonwoo allowed it before speaking up, “I don’t wanna go.” 

“I know,” the way Junhyuks’s voice softened made him want to hide in warm blankets, “but we have to go. You know we do. It’s for your health you know that.”  

Yeonwoo wanted to cry and scream and throw something. He hated it. It was uncomfortable, unnecessary and it always took too much from him. Left him a mess, but it was his fault. He’s ruined his body to such an extent and was now a burden, dependent on those around him. Even if they claimed they didn’t mind, Yeonwoo knew better. He was nothing but a nuisance. He shook his head, telling Junhyuk to stop messing with his hair.  

His voice was groggy, grains of reluctant acceptance barely heard, “I’ll be ready in 10.” 

Junhyuk smiled and the care in it made Yeonwoo want to cry. The alpha patted his shoulder in a gesture meant to calm. It only made Yeonwoo regretful but Junhyuk didn’t need to know that. Yeonwoo nodded and Junhyuk made his way towards and out the door but not before getting one last jab in on him. 

“We both know you’ll take an hour minimum, don't kid yourself princess.” 

The alpha ran out of the room, still insufferable grin on his face, just in time, because a second longer and he would have been met with another pillow to the face. 

—

Though he had grown used to the sensation of viewing his actions as though her were a ghost observing his body from above, it nevertheless evoked a sensation of ire. Feeling or any form of awareness had completely left him. For all Yeonwoo knew he was simply in a void of nothing as hands —disgusting, revolting, cold and suffocating—touched and prodded in places he would rather not be touched. 

He had “gotten used” to it after some time. The suffocation and terror that encompassed him, the dull thudding of his heartbeat barely noticeable as he retreated into the further reaches of his mind and shut its doors, blocked all sound, sight and sensation out. 

It was the hands. It was always the hands. No matter how gentle they were—sometimes the gentle nature of their touch made it worse—Yeonwoo would always fight the urge to recoil. Fighting was no use. Any open displays of discomfort instead of acting as a denture resulted in more hands and wicked laughter. 

He closed the door to that horrid memory, less he came back into his body a mess. 

It started with the warmth of a familiarly rough and calloused hand on his bare shoulder. Yeonwoo could vaguely register his shirt being pulled back on and the fluff of his sweater that felt similar to being wrapped in a cloud coming not soon after. Those hands were one of the few that calmed instead of distressed and comforted instead of sending him into unbearable cold. 

Yeonwoo could feel himself relax. His mind molded back with his body where it should be—not somewhere up in the clouds while he lay on the table a husk of himself—the first sensation he felt was warm large hands on his shoulders as he was coming too. 

Only when he smelled smooth, coaxing, leather. The accompanying undertone of concerned lemon as he came to his senses did he feel himself fully settle back into his body with a sharp inhale. 

Junhyuk patted his back as he caught his breath and Yeonwoo wondered how he had gone from the examination table to now sitting in a chair across from doctor Nam Hyejinseo but he didn’t think about it long. Junhyuk probably did the work for him and if he hadn't been calmed by his friend’s grounding scent he might have registered the pang of regret. 

Doctor Nam Hyejinseo now sat before him. Her deep brown eyes were calm as she looked over the clipboard one last time before turning up to direct that analytical gaze at him. 

Yeonwoo tensed. 

Nam Hyejinseo set the clipboard in her lap and Yeonwoo’s gaze found his lap as Junhyuk’s hands on his shoulders gripped his shoulders with minimal force before unclenching. This didn’t look good and they’d just started. Junhyuk tense figure behind him that he didn’t need to see because he was always like this during their appointments, doctor Nam’s pensive expression that they tried to hide behind a neutral expression, but Yeonwoo knew. How could he not know?

“Yeonwoo,” her voice was soft yet stern, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but we need to do something about the disassociation.” Her eyes bore into him, “Before you where in horrible condition so this conversation was one that couldn’t be had for fear of your mental state worsening… Now, however, I highly recommend getting a therapist,” she paused again before speaking, “You need to talk to someone and its never too late to try.” Her voice was warm as she said that last sentence and Yeonwoo squirmed. 

She was kind in that suggestion as Docter Nam always was when interacting with him but yeonwoo would not. Therapy… he would do no such thing. He didn’t want to. 

(Even in the confines of a secluded room and a guarantee whatever he said would be kept confidential, the things that happened to him, the things that where done to his body, the things that went around in his mind. Yeonwoo would keep every single one under lock and key. Never to see the light of day again…)

Yeonwoo didn’t know what expression he wore—his body still felt at odds and he regulated himself—but it must have showed his discomfort with the topic because Doctor Nam sighed. She ran her fingers through short dark blue locks before tapping her clipboard again. The rhythm was soothing. 

“Would you like the good news or bad news first?” Doctor Nam asked. 

Yeonwoo didn’t answer, opting to pick at bandaged hands.

Junhyuk patted his shoulder before letting go, and Yeonwoo bit his tongue. “Good news first… please,” Junhyuk answered. 

   He heard a small relieved sigh before the light clicking of a mouse and keyboard, “Well all things considered everything looks good, Your vitals Yeonwoo from the last time I saw you have gotten significantly better. I take it Junhyuk’s been doing a great job taking care of you.”

Leather and a very pleased undertone hit his nose and Yeonwoo couldn’t help but let out a puff of laughter. He could imagine Junhyuk with a wide grin, and puffed-out chest in pride from that alone. 

Alphas and the need for praise, coming from Junhyuk, Yeonwoo found it endearing.

“All things look good physically, aside from a recommendation to slow down a little in life due to slightly higher than normal stress levels all things look good.” Yeonwoo knew Junhyuk would take that and go overboard. 

“With that out of the way,” Doctor Nam paused and Yeonwoo looked up, “Given that now everything is stable and you are out of the red. It’s time to start another waning off your suppressants.” 

Yeonwoo held back a grimace, though still holding the doctor's gaze. 

“I know you don’t like the sound of that and it’s going to be hard.”

“How hard is it going to be exactly,” Junhyuk interrupted as he stepped forward into Yeonwoo’s view. 

Doctor Nam tapped at her clipboard, “The withdrawal symptoms alone are going to be hard to deal with. Pertaining to that situation, Junhyuk I recommend you be in charge of his suppressant intake so that he doesn't go into a relapse,” Junhyuk nodded in earnest and Yeonwoo hated to admit it but the idea terrified him, “They are going to range from headaches and vomiting on a good day and chills with possibly being bed ridden from the pain on a bad day.” Yeonwoo reached out to tug on a piece of Junhyuk's coat, Doctor Nam squinted at that writing something down, “Those are simply the physical effects, there is more but I will have that written down for you in a document and how to deal with that,” Her words were directed at Junhyuk and Yeonwoo felt the alpha stiffen. 

Doctor Nam placed her clipboard down and looked Yeonwoo in the eyes, her gaze unyielding, doctors where terrifying, “The physical effect on your body will be hard, but it will be nothing compared to your instincts.”

Both Junhyuk and Yeonwoo stiffened at that. 

“I’m assuming you’ve already started to feel it from the first time we started?” She raised a carefully sculpted brow and Yeonwoo slowly nodded, “I thought so,” she mused quickly picking up her pen to write once more, “Given that’s the case you have some experience, however.”

She clicked at her computer a few times and waited for something to process before continuing, “You have not also been suppressing your scent but your instincts for the better part of 8 years,” Yeonwoo flinched at that and Junhyuk's scent turned dry, similar to leather on a hot summer day, on the verge of pungency, “You don’t understand how your instincts are supposed to work. My nurse and I have compiled information that will be given to you when you head out so you know what is happening and why it is happening.” 

Yeonwoo looked down but not fast enough because he caught the clenching of Junhyuk’s hands into fists and looked away.

“What can I- what can I do to help?” Junhyuk spoke up after what seemed like forever, his voice thoughtful yet a layer of restrained worry lay underneath. 

Yeonwoo stopped the picking of his hands to lay them on his lap, hands forming fists.

“Whatever you’ve been doing so far has been great. Compared to last time Yeonwoo looks a lot better and less… exhausted.” He knew she wanted to say he didn’t look as though he stood at death's door anymore. 

“As I said before you’re going to have to monitor the amount of suppressants he takes from now on. We will be rationing the doses over time and this cut is going to be big and the consequences are going to be the worst so you as his friends need to be there for him.” 

Yeonwoo peaked up to find Junhyuk with his phone out and tapping away.

“You need to look out for any signs that things could get worse because they are going to be bad. I highly recommend, Yeonwoo,” Yeonwoo’s head snapped up, “You have to stop suppressing everything. That includes instincts and emotions.” 

His hands shook and he was near refusing but she cut him off.

“That isn’t a request that’s doctor’s orders.” Her tone was monotone, eyes calm but Yeonwoo knew better. Usually warm gaze now cold, frigid as laying out on painfully sharp shards as he was reduced to nothing but a statue. Unable to move a finger. 

“If you keep this up any longer, suppression on the level that you do it both conscious and unconscious is going to lead to you going feral and you severely injuring yourself.”

Junhyuk visibly balked in his steed and Yeonwoo paled, “What do you mean feral?” 

“I mean feral, you will not know a single thing or person around you and due to the repression, you will go into a state of madness and harm yourself and anyone who comes your way. The ramifications of going feral when you come out of it are already going to be horrid. If you find that you’ve hurt yourself and the people around you, your already declined mental state will only get worse.” She was matter of fact as she finished, eyes unrelenting as they looked at the pair. “Therefore the sooner you stop suppressing any and all emotion the better. We wouldn’t want that to happen now would we?” 

Honey eyes meet mint green ones and Yeonwoo bit his tongue. 

“The first thing I would recommend to start off is to let your scent out more often.” Doctor Nam tilted her head and Junhyuk, “From what you’ve told me, Yeonwoo doesn't even let himself scent his own belongings or scent the people closest to him. I’m assuming that means his scent is nowhere to be found in your home as well,” Not even allowing yourself the customary right to let your scent-free in the safety of your own home was absurdly abnormal. He knew Junhyuk was in a constant state of confusion and worry because of it, “Start off with letting your scent loose in your home and branch out from there.”

Yeonwoo heard Junhyuk tapping away at his phone and his brows furrowed. Junhyuk and Yeseul though his close friends—close enough to be considered pack—have never gotten a whiff of his scent. Yeonwoo had been meticulous in eradicating it, let alone letting anyone smell it. Even he himself would have forgotten what his own smell smelt like had it not been for that day. Smelling his scent was one thing, scenting him was something else entirely and Yeonwoo shook at the idea.

He trusted Yeseul and Junhyuk with his life. They had proven time and time again they were worthy of that trust. They had clearly shown it by staying and helping as he had tiptoed the wire of no return and pulled him back with tearful expressions, making him swear to never do what he did again while swearing themselves they would never leave his side. They cared and he cared for them in return. 

Yeonwoo still didn’t know how to let them in.

A suspicious spike in Junhyuk’s scent caught his attention before it was gone moments before he could discern its meaning.

“Preferably scenting an alpha, of course, the opposing natures balance each other out, and being scented by an alpha would be very helpful in rehabilitating your instincts both physical and mental.” She explained it as though she were talking about the weather, “On the topic of Alphas,” her gaze flick to Junhyuk, “Regarding sexual activities. Now that your body is in the clear you are welcome to engage if you wish. It would in-fact be very benifitial given the density of alpha pheromon-

Yeonwoo shook his head at the insinuation, face in his hands as his blush only increased, “Please stop.” His voice was soft though his embarrassment was palpable. 

Him and Junhyuk always gave people the wrong idea as of late—persenting as an omega seemed to have its downsides after all—and his skin itched at the implications.

A large hand ruffled his hair, the teasing affection in them sickening and Yeonwoo wanted to slap the hand away. 

“I know it’s somewhat embarrassing” Somewhat is an understatement, “However, it is a viable and highly recommended option that you should consider given that it is very effective in helping when it comes to allowing your instincts freedom to present themselves.”

Yeonwoo wanted to curl away. Instead, he chose to pull at Junhyuk’s coat and bring the alpha closer to hide behind. He would not show such an unbecoming display to just anyone. 

The rest of the appointment had been significantly less invasive and face reddening. He had received the new dosage of his rationed suppressants, which Junhyuk had taken from him not a moment after it touched his hands. All the information he needed was in the form of a book thin in volume, and concise with all the recommended procedures should anything go wrong.

Yeonwoo dreaded the newly implemented change in his suppressants. It would soon feel as though the crutches he’d used to navigate the world would be snatched from under him.  

That was a lie. The tool he had used to hide himself. Hiding what he felt and with whom he felt it towards would soon be taken away from him. He would revert back into the mess he was before everything and the idea terrified him. The spell cast upon him that hid him from the world—hid him from even those close to him, would soon break. The clock would strike midnight and he would turn back to his pathetic and lowly self. Back to that boy who sat shrunken in that corner, eyes dulled and heart so trampled upon even filth from the roadside looked better than it. He would be ruined. Again. 

“Yeonwoo,” Junhyuk spoke up, snapping Yeonwoo out of a hazy daze. 

Yeonwoo looked up at the alpha, waiting for him to speak.

“You’re not alone now.” Junhyuk shuffled where he stood beside him.

Yeonwoo blinked. 

There eyes met and the security yeonwoo was faced with made his stomach churn, “We’re here now. Yeseul and I… we’re here now.”

Yeonwoo slowly looked down, finding bandaged hands more interesting. He didn’t speak for a while. Didn’t say a word as they walked out of the hospital or as the cold wind whipped at his face, invoking a strong shiver. Not a word left him as they walked to the parking lot. Only when Junhyuk opened the car door for him and he replied with a small barely audible thanks did he say something. Once he’d settled into the comfortable leather of his seat however, he was rendered mute once more. 

Junhyuk, bless him, didn’t prompt him to speak. His childhood friend simply turned on the heater, letting the car warm up before he began driving. He’d thrown Yeonwoo’s suppressants in the back seat beforehand. He could even touch them now, could he? 

Yeonwoo smiled to himself, solemnly. He should have honestly seen it coming. The day he would have to stop relying on his suppressants would have to come eventually. He couldn’t use them forever. He couldn’t expect Junhyuk idly to sit by and watch him use them when they had caused him so much grief. Even though that was the case. Even though his use had become a dependency that he used to block everything out. Even though it had given him a semblance of peace for the hefty price, Yeonwoo becoming a shell of who he used to be. Even though that was the case, even though he knew it was bad.

He was still scared to lose it. 

Yeonwoo was so scared it left him trembling. 

Junhyuk noticed as they stopped at a red light and Yeonwoo wondered when they had gotten on the road. He couldn’t exactly use the excuse of being cold. The heater had done its job in warming them up and Yeonwoo hadn’t even registered that he had taken his coat off. He peeked at Junhyuk and the way the alpha gripped the steering wheel made him briefly wonder if he had done it on purpose. 

“It… Hyuk-ah,” Yeonwoo called, the immediate low grunt from Junhyuk prompting him to continue, “It… it’s going to be hard…” He trailed off, worry potent in his tone.

“It’s ok Yeonwoo, me and Yeseul know what to do,” junhyuk paused, “We’ve prepared.”

Yeonwoo’s hands trembled as he shook his head. “That’s not—no you don’t get it I—I.” The worry and looming dread he’d been trying to hide all day had finally caught up with him. Of all the times these inconvenient emotions choose to flare up, why was it always at the worst moments? 

Yeonwoo buried his head in his hand, sinking down so his head was on his knees. This was bad. This was horrible. Yeonwoo was terrified. Years of suppression and repression now caught up to him. He’d never regretted something more. He wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t cry. He most likely wouldn’t be able to anyways given his condition and that's what hurt the most. The want was there, he could feel it bubbling bust just as it reached the surface it fizzled out. Leaving him unfulfilled and disoriented. Even now as he wanted to cry he couldn't. All he could do was hold his head in his hands and shake as fear clung to him and wouldn’t. Let. Go. 

A warm hand, the heat of it going through the fabric of his shirt for him to feel, patted his back. Yeonwoo slowly sat up. His eyes were unbearably dry as he looked at Junhyuk beside him. 

He didn’t know what expression he wore at the moment. Whatever it was however must have been something because Junhyuk looked pained the moment he saw him. 

“Yeonwoo,” Junhyuk called him, “Let us take care of things ok?” 

There was a slight tremble in the alpha’s voice. The clear uncertainty of weather he would accept and Yeonwoo paused. His hands had stopped trembling and his eyes were blown wide as he looked at the alpha. They were truly too nice to him. 

Too nice. 

Too nice. 

Too nice. 

Yeonwoo wanted to do something horrendous to himself. 

The reality is that he had such dedicated friends. People who loved him so much to go through something so taxing with him. The now firmer realization, one of many he seemed to be having more of recently made him want to either cry or secretly wish he had done the deed and actually thrown himself off the rooftop that fateful day. His very existence was an inconvenience. They could be doing so much better with their lives and here he was ruining them with his very presence. 

Yet… yet Yeonwoo cared for them. He cared for them as they cared for him. Junhyuk and Yeseul would be devastated if they found that though his appearance may have changed in the last year, his mentality hadn't. Yeonwoo still hated himself. He loathed himself more now that he was getting ‘better’ and had to plunge the people around him into senseless worry. 

Those very people wanted him, though. They’d gone out of their way to make sure he was getting “better”. If Yeonwoo wouldn’t do it for himself… he looked at Junhyuk. 

Really looked at him as they reached a red light—he dosen’t remember when they left the last one—and mint green eyes met honey ones. 

Yeonwoo lifted his hand, letting it hang in the space between them and Junhyuk’s eyes widened before his hand was in Yeonwoo’s in an instant. Junhyuk really was too good for him. 

“Ok.” Yeonwoo tentatively nodded. “Ok.” His voice choked at the edges even though his eyes remained dry. 

Junhyuk squeezed his hand, a wide smile on the alpha’s face and Yeonwoo would have been able to smile back if not for the clear worry that peeked through the alpha’s expression. 

“Don’t worry,” Junhyuk squeezed his hand once more, voice near hoarse, “We can do this. We won’t let you down this time. We promise.” 

Yeonwoo shook his head. They could never let him down. He’d been the one to let them down, not the other way around, but his throat clogged and he couldn’t get a word out. He was just a pained expression and tears that wouldn’t fall. 

Junhyuk smiled wider at him and Yeonwoo was too tired to smile. 

He tried and likely failed from the amused quirk of Junhyuk’s lips but the alpha didn’t laugh. He was close too but he didn’t laugh and Yeonwoo would have shaken his head discontent in any other situation. He didn’t though. He tried and he would keep trying.

“Hyuk-ah,” Yeonwoo called, eyes soft as he turned to face the road ahead.

Junhyuk responded with a humm, eyes not leaving him. 

“The lights green”

Just then a car horn blared and the alpha jumped in his seat as he stepped on the gas, his hand releasing Yeonwoo’s, and they were off again. 

Yeonwoo would have laughed if this were any other moment in time but he didn’t. 

He may not have cared much for himself but he had people who did. If he wouldn’t try for himself he would try for them. He could do that. 

Right?

✿❀❁❀✿

The alpha had come to the library again it seemed. No, Yeonwoo hadn’t interacted with her this time, however. No, this time he hadn’t even seen her.

Eunchae had.

When Eunchae had first told him of her interaction with the strange alpha, he would have thought Eunchae would take her chances on this alpha. The beta was certainly bold enough—that is if Yeonwoo himself was there to cheer her on the whole way through. She may have been headstrong but she was still a beta. How that he knew of the courting between the beta and Ha Yejin, however, that wasn’t the case.

Yeonwoo let out a tempered, exhausted, sigh, a frosty exhale forming than expanding into a cloud that disappeared not a moment after he had let it out. He wanted to collapse.

 Eunchae had been less ecstatic about her interaction with the alpha this time. Her lack of enthusiasm told him as much. He already had his suspicions as to why but he would wait. It wasn’t time yet. 

Making the way up the steps of his apartment, his mind cooled. He desperately needed calm today. Each step upwards was fighting limbs of lead that begged to collapse and never see use again. Yeonwoo wanted to slam face-first on the floor the moment he went in and wake up in his bed seconds later. 

Tired hand taking and turning the doorknob after slotting in his key, Yeonwoo opened the door to step inside, closing it quickly behind him to release a deep sigh. His shoulders finily relaxed. It was so warm compared to snow that nipped uncomfortably at his skin, his already cold hands freezing. Yeonwoo paused, nose twitching. 

Excited dandelion and eucalyptus.

He knew that scent anywhere. Quickly taking off his shoes and placing them in there little shoe cupboard to his left, Yeonwoo didn’t hadn’t even thrown his coat onto the coat hanger, and despite his tired body screaming at him—his room was but a few steps ahead and his bed awaited him—he nearly ran as he turned into the entry corridor towards the living room.

“HYUNG!” 

Yeonwoo smiled, frankly, he didn’t know how she always knew he was home. He was relatively quiet whenever even entering the apartment, and with his lack of scent, he was nearly undetectable. Junhyuk always screamed as though he had killed Yuna whenever Yeonwoo would come up behind him, but Yeonwoo simply chalked it up to the alpha being a scary cat. The big baby. 

“Hyung!” Yeseul stood in front of him waiting, the tension in her that seemed ready to snap as she held back—bouncing up and down like a puppy having seen its owner—begging to pull him into a crushing hug. It was quite amusing. 

Yeonwoo dropped his bag where he stood, took his coat off, and turned to hang it on the coat hanger—ignoring Yeseul's confused ‘Hyung?’ He turned back toward them in no time, the bright light of the living room compared to the dark of the corridor somewhat jarring. With a shaky smile—face still frozen from the cold—Yeonwoo opened his arms for her to jump into. 

To his surprise, Yeseul did no such thing and was shockingly slow in her approach. No, perhaps nervous was a better word. Hands shaking as she advanced, once she’d gotten closer she smelled of worry and a tint of anticipation. However, when he smiled at her Yeseul quickly closed the gap between them. Him letting her know it was ok. She’d tackled him soon enough and he was met with bubbly dandelion and ecstatic eucalyptus. He swears he could see a tail wagging as she nuzzled her cheek right below his collarbone. She probably would have gone higher weren’t it for his collar. He suppressed a giggle as he wrapped his arms around her. 

Yeseul was warm and he was freezing. The way he shook in Yeseul’s arm must have proven as much. She pulled away just slightly, still in his arms, and soon a tender hand lay on his cheek, careful yet restrained, as though arranging the most precious of flowers, warm and comforting as she held his face. Yeonwoo tried to stifle a sneeze but the sudden spike in Yeseul’s eucalyptus scent was his downfall. He sneezed, face turning to do so in his arm and he squinted. She did that on purpose. 

“Hyung,” Yeseul spoke, a calm smile on adorable features, yet that same smile sent shivers down his spine, “One, you’re late, and two, you're freezing.” Her expression, though warm, chastised him, “Did you stay out in the snow again?” 

Yeonwoo wouldn’t look at her, eyes finding the photo on the wall more interesting, and that was all Yeseul needed to know the answer. 

Soft notes of Yeseul’s dandelion perfume slowly surrounded him. The eucalyptus undertones in her scent spoke of fear, and what he swore was disappointment—it wasn’t disappointment it was worry.  

Junhyuk had gotten up from wherever he had sat on the couch and now stood in front of him. A large hand brushed his cheek, knuckles gently pressing into the flesh of his cheek to feel their uncharacteristic chill—Junhyuk tsked at how cold his skin was. Yeonwoo suppressed a pout at what he was sure would be an oncoming scolding. 

What he got instead… was worse. Or was it better?

Yeseul sighed, her grip on his shoulder firm, “Why not go take a bath, Hyung?” 

Yeonwoo perked at that. He would do so regardless, but usually, as of late, Yeseul would smother him in hugs before letting him do so. He couldn’t help thinking something was wrong. 

“After that, we have a surprise for you!” Junhyuk piped and Yeonwoo turned to the alpha confused.  Junhyuk simply smiled that smile at him. The smile that Yeonwoo found to be warm but something sinister lurked beneath its depths. He couldn’t help believing there was something entirely wrong with this situation. Junhyuk never pipped. What was going on?

Yeonwoo squinted at them. No scolding. No whining. No silent treatment, and no begging… they were up to something.

Junhyuk grabbed his shoulder and began dragging him off to the bathroom, Yeseul walked close behind as she cheered much to his surprise. 

Junhyuk instructed, “Clean up and make sure it's a warm bath, please. Make sure you get all the scent suppressants off too.”

“Wait guy–”

“Don’t reapply any!” Yeseul but in.

“What are you guys–”

“Oh and also wear something comfortable when you're done.”

“What?”

“It’s fine I’ve already got that done, your clothes are on the bathroom counter.”

They kept pushing and pushing while babbling things for him to do and for him to “take his time”, which only furthered his suspicion something was amiss but before he had the chance to say any more they’d pushed him into the bathroom.

Yeseul smiled, “Oh, and Hyung!” 

Yeonwoo looked back at them confused as Junhyuk took the doorknob.

“Don’t wear your collar!” They both said in unison before shutting the door with a slam.

Yeonwoo touched his collar as he was left alone with more questions than answers and a budding sense of foreboding. 

— — —  

He returned to chaos.

The first thing he’d noticed was the smell. Junhyuk’s overpowering and annoyed scent of burnt leather and sour lemon along with Yeseul’s distressed mildew dandelion had his nose twitch and hair stand on end. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

A damp towel wrapped around his shoulder, water droplets gliding down sandy strands to soak into the towel, he was warm to the touch now after the nice shower he’d taken and the skin of his neck felt especially sensitive without his collar. He walked out of his room after changing into a shirt Junhyuk lent him and shorts—why that was the alpha's choice in his attire he had no clue but he had an inkling a curtain beta was behind it—and curled left into the mini corridor. Yeonwoo felt light and the cleanliness of his skin after the long day left him tingling. He was relatively sedated. At least he had been. 

He stood in the hallway, a small satisfied hum ready to escape rosy lips, as he made his way towards the door. Running a cottony towel through sandy strands, ears still a tad pink from his shower picked up muffled voices before they quieted and he paused. He didn’t hear a thing as he tilted his head toward the door, but his curiosity was peaking. Tiptoeing to the door separating the corridor and living room, honey-eyes peeked through the crack in the door. 

“...”

 Junhyuk and Yeseul were a mess. 

Cleanliness. It was something Yeonwoo had been meticulous to uphold in their home. Yeseul and Junhyuk knew this, and they abided by it. It was, after all, one of the few things he asked of them. The two, though chaotic and messy, were careful in following this one rule of his. 

So imagine his surprise when a living room of frumpled blankets and pillows thrown about awaited him. Yeonwoo’s brow, and nose twitched. He suppressed the urge to sigh, deep from his core, similar to the way a disgruntled mother would lament her children and their shortcomings, disappointing yet full of so much love it was futile to stay mad a moment longer.  

He was about to step into the room to scold them when Yeseul’s distressed anger rang through, “No you’re doing it wrong!” She yelled, eyes brimming with tears and lips quivering as she snatched a pillow from Junhyuk. 

Junhyuk looked at Yeseul shocked. Confusion morphed into displeasure and he frowned. Normally Junhyuk would have yelled back at her, it was a part of their banter, this time, however, that wasn’t the case. It couldn’t be the case for this time Yeseul was on the brink of tears. 

Yeseul was never on the brink of tears.

Junhyuk opened his mouth, about to utter a less-than-kind comment, only to close it. He needed to pause. Taking a breath to calm himself, he opened and closed his hands, focusing on his breathing as the remnants of his alpha, more than displeased at the disrespect, simmered and eventually bubbled into a cool. 

“Yeseul,” Junhyuk spoke in an uncharacteristically soft tone as he plopped next to the beta who hid now tear-stained cheeks behind the decorated pillow she held, “What’s wrong?” He patted her head to comfort and Yeseul sniffled.

The beta said nothing for a while. Quite surrounded them as Junhyuk paused the video they were watching to focus his attention on his “pack” mate who needed it more. Yeseul buried her head into the pillow further refusing to reply as her shoulders shook from shame, at being a burden, when they were trying to help. She’d ruined things again. 

Stale and muddy dandelions filled the air, Junhyuk’s hairs stood upright and in seconds he had enveloped Yeseul in a tight hug to comfort, his soft notes of smooth leather trying to combat her saddened state.

Whereas omega’s distress resulted in the frantic and uncoordinated need of those around them to ‘take care of sad omega’ and ‘protect’ and ‘Keep them happy at all costs’ a beta’s distress was different. Betas didn’t get distressed. At least not to the point that it altered their scents to this extent. Their milder scents compared to their omega and alpha counterparts did not warrant it. Distress for them was a scent that needed more effort to be bared to the world. Betas naturally with their calmer and less imposing scents were thought to simply not feel such levels of emotion. They were the least ‘instinctual’ disposition after all. They couldn’t get distressed.

Yeseul shook in his hold and Junhyuk tightened it, his scent softening in an attempt to calm as he rocked them back and forth. Junhyuk didn’t let go. Though he couldn’t hear a sound from her, Junhyuk kept his arms wrapped around her until she felt better. He would do so for however long he needed too. 

A shuddered breath broke through the morbid silence and the shaking of Yeseul in Junhyuk’s arms stopped not soon after, the scent of stale dandelion and eucalyptus turning into something lighter. 

Yeseul pulled away with a sniffle and angled her cheek up to nuzzle the junction between Junhyuk’s neck and shoulder in the form of thanks. 

Through puffy eyes, she sighed content, “Thanks Hyuk-ah,”  

“Anytime,” He paused before continuing, “You willing to tell me what's wrong now?” Junhyuk asked, prodding though not imposing. When talking with Yeseul and Yeonwoo about such things he had learned the hard way to never push the two for it would only make things worse. 

Yeseul inhaled a shuddered breath, the silence settling between them comfortable. She crawled to sit at his side and wrapped her arms around his. Then pressed her cheek against him, expressions forlorn.

“I just want this to be good,” Her voice was barely above a whisper, “This has to be perfect. It’s the first nest we're going to share with Yeonwoo so it has to be good. It has too.” She paused, “I wanna be good for Yeonwoo.” biting her lip in frustration and face red with lingering tears falling, Junhyuk’s expression fell, “It doesn't help that I’m a failure of a beta and can’t even help my omega friend with something I’m supposed to know how to do. I’m the pack beta. I'm supposed to know how to cater to our omega but I can’t even do that. Were probably not even a official pack because of me and Yeonwoo’s been through enough and I can’t eve— 

Junhyuk cut her off with a hand over the mouth, “Yeseul,” he called and prompted her to listen, “Why are we doing this.” He brought his hand down for her to answer. 

“For Yeonwoo.” 

“And what’s the reason we're doing this for him?”

“To help him… let him relax… make him comfortable.”

“Good.” Junhyuk nodded, “We know Yeonwoo best. We know what he likes and dosen’t like. I know you know a lot more than you let on about him. You pay attention. Us not being a “Normal” isn’t important. What’s important is making sure Yeonwoo is ok. That he’s healing” Junhyuk paused, than put on a lighthearted expression, “Besides if that dosn’t work we’ll just do it again. Even have yeonwoo build it with us!”

Yeseul laughed at the alpha, “It doesn't work like that, you idiot! Dynamic classes told us that nests have to be perfect for omegas. We have to make sure there—”

“Those stupid classes don’t apply in the situation we’re in.” Junhyuk ruffled her hair, causing her bangs to block her view, and smacked him with the pillow in her lap, “Oof after I helped you this is how you thank me!” 

“You can’t console anyone for shit!” Yeseul complained though her vibrant smile returned and the air cleared until the clean and happy scent of dandelion filled the air.

Junhyuk chuckled, Yeseul was smiling and happy again and that’s all that mattered in the moment, “I did my job just fine thank you very much,” he boasted and Yeseul rolled her eyes, “Now lets finish this up and get everything organized before Yeonwoo comes and blows our heads off.”

Yeseul looked around and grimaced, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Junhyuk pressed play and the sound of a soft female voice cut through the now significantly warmer atmosphere. 

They worked in chatty delight as they followed along with the video playing on Junhyuk’s phone and Yeonwoo slid down the wall to sit on the floor. 

He trembled, expression wrought with pain. His chest hurt. He felt suffocated. The gray wall ahead of him only aided in his already static mental state. Was it that bad? Had he let it get so bad that something that was supposed to be a joyless occasion for a pack was now tainted? He’d made Yeseul cry… Yeseul never cried. 

Yeonwoo had been careful with keeping himself consistent. His failings were not something he wanted them to see. Especially Yeseul. She was a newer addition to their previous group of two. Junhyuk knew him on a level that no one else did, but Yeseul saw him through a different lens. She didn’t know what had happened to him. Had little inkling of the person he used to be and he wanted to keep it that way. 

But that couldn’t last forever. He’d shut Junhyuk out after what happened and never let him in again, and Yeseul didn't even know who he really was. In all their years of friendship it was an unspoken rule. And they’d upheld it. They hadn’t a word of complaint as he drew a firm line. As he receded into someone distant and unfeeling. As he without their knowledge ruined his body and repressed such base parts of himself. All they asked was that he let them stay by his side. All they asked was that he let them help and take care of him. All they asked was to be there. 

And Yeonwoo hadn’t even allowed such a simple thing. 

He had to let them both in.

Yeonwoo lay there. Cold wooden floors dampened with his tears and expression void of any feeling. Even now when the moment called for it, his cries were still silent. Not a sound escaped him and he couldn’t even muster an iota of self-pity. How wretched. He truly was scum. 

The chill of wooden floors was nothing compared to how cold he felt at that moment. The familiar tingle of terror and then the subsequent numbness that came with it had long been something he was used to. Even without the suppressants doing most of the work, old habits die hard. His breath caught as he held back a wretched and pathetic sob. Yeonwoo covered his mouth, refusing. He couldn’t do this. Was this normal? He was left shaking and the tears wouldn’t stop. He tried and tried yet they flowed. With them, a tsunami of everything crashed into him. Drowning and overpowering and suffocating.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see past gray and couldn’t hear past static. And the Cold. The cold he’d once been accustomed to. The cold he’d seem as something a part of him. The cold had become unbearable. He was freezing. What other explanation could there be for the way his entire being shook uncontrollably and he felt on the verge of being buried by an avalanche of dread. ­

Everything was gray, all he saw and heard was gray. Gray walls, gray static… gray him. On the cold corridor floor, he lay there. Heart beating out of his chest. Ears full of static. Pain and cold engulfed him. Yet all he could feel was nothing, nothing before an overwhelming feeling consumed him. Buried him under to the point of no return and he wants to-- 

He was met with piercing blue eyes and a curious expression.

Yuna.

The cat looked down at him, her tail swaying back and forth impatient and waiting. He really had to stop meeting the poor feline like this. It seemed as though at every turn she would be there to offer a haughty demand for affection in the worst of his moments. He was near the assumption she had begun to do it on purpose.

Yeonwoo shook as he shifted to allow her closer to sit nuzzled against his chest. How cute, even when the situation didn’t call for it she still held her demands. He would have giggled if a sob hadn’t slipped past tear-drenched lips and he covered his mouth lest he alert Junhyuk and Yeseul. 

Yuna’s tail swayed back and forth, impatient as she hit his clothed stomach with it demanding attention. He would have mustered a smile had it not hurt so much to do such a simple thing. A shaky hand, carefully, slowly, reached up toward her. He lamented the dark of the corridor as he couldn’t see ginger fur shift as it was caressed by cold fingers. Yuna preened as he rubbed the back of her ear, and only when he’d carefully moved to her back, touch soft and restrained did she slowly lay herself closer him. Her chin rested just below his exposed collarbone. The feeling of soft fur against bare skin brought a comforting sensation and Yeonwoo thanked Junhyuk for the loose shirt he’d given him. 

Cold, near-shaking fingers warmed as they glided through soft and heated fur. Yuna’s tail had slowed to swaying laxly as he wanted and Yeonwoo couldn’t help but tear up. Her very presence made him feel better. The beating of his heart calmed as she lay close to his chest and his breathing had picked up–back to normal. The suffocating cold had been chased away by his little candle of warmth and Yeonwoo would give his princess whatever she desired once he’d reached calm shores. 

Yeonwoo sucked in a deep breath, while Yuna eyed him as she nuzzled under his chin once more. His breathing was less painful and he relished in the feeling of finely breathing easy again. 

“Yun-Yun!” Yeonwoo whispered softly as the feline looked at him, blue eyes wide with curiosity, “You have to stop finding me like this. Are you doing it on purpose?” He rubbed behind her ears and Yuna meowed at the action. She shuffled and soon her cheek pressed against his as she nuzzled him, back and forth, curling around his head and how could he possibly say anything else. 

Yeonwoo petted her back, soft and careful as though he were dealing with silk and she purred. Her purrs reverberated through his chest and Yeonwoo wanted to cry.

“Oh Yuna,” He choked eyes brimming with yet-to-fall tears, “That’s not fair,” He sobbed, “That’s not fair at all.”

Yuna to add fuel to the fire only purred more and Yeonwoo shakely sat up to hug her, burying his face into soft fur and willing his tears to stop before he ruined her beautiful coat. His lips quivered and he wanted to sob. He wanted to wail and it hurt because he’d never allowed himself even that luxury. His cries were always silent even in the safety of his own home and now he was met with the new and all too daunting feeling of wanting to cry till he had no tears left. Scream till his voice lay horse and body limp from exhaustion. And he had no clue why or why he couldn’t suppress it. 

He didn’t hear the muffled sound of steps and worried voices making their way to the door as Yuna’s purrs enveloped him as she rubbed her cheek against his neck. He would have thought she wanted to scent him with how earnestly she was taking the endeavor. He didn’t register light the illuminating the dark of the hallway, streams of warm marigold slowly illuminating him. 

“Yeonwoo?” Yeonwoo perked up, eyes bearing into ginger fur and refusing to look up. 

That voice. A voice laced with worry and terror. The confusion that lay in its undercurrent and the clear want to comfort. It would break him. If he looked up to face Junhyuk in this moment he knew he would be nothing but a head of tears and body of shaky confusion. 

So he wouldn’t look. He would--

“Yeon-ah,” 

Yeonwoo’s head snapped up. Honey eyes brimming with tears relinquished them and they fell. Junhyuk hadn’t called him that in forever. What was with all this sudden change? Yeonwoo brought his head down to wipe his tears with the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all and it was embarrassing. 

An unwarranted sob broke through him and he wanted to run away. He wanted to run and hide and never open the doors to his room again. 

Yuna started yowling not long after Junhyuk made an appearance and started pawing at him to let her go. Even the cat didn’t want him. He really was the worst. The tears just wouldn’t stop and before long quite sobs broke through him and he couldn’t contain them.

Yuna was taken from him along with her piercing cries and Yeonwoo grabbed at open air unable to get her back. He could barely see the figure in front of him let alone begin to take the screaming feline back. 

“You shoo, why are you bullying Yeon-ah huh you little bastard?” Junhyuk scolded Yuna and put her down glaring at the feline as she hissed at him one last time before likely leaving to Junhyuk’s room and ruining things.

That nickname only served to result in more tears as Yeonwoo buried his head in his knees and his sobs worsened. Rushing footsteps could be heard and soon Yeseul broke through the door, her scent smelling of concern. 

He couldn’t stop them and they just kept coming. His back tingled with shame and Yeonwoo refused to look up. Junhyuk's expression would break him. He knew it would. It already had once.

Yeonwoo seemingly wasn’t allowed to wallow in his own shamefully tragic musings because a large, warm, hand stroked through his hair out of his face and it was brought up for honey eyes to meet mint green ones. How was he supposed to hold back sobs when Junhyuk smiled at him like that, full of understanding and patience and care—all things he didn’t deserve—and as Yeseul’s scent took on calming and mildly sweet notes. 

Yeonwoo let himself sob. Let himself break and tear and let himself become a mess. He heaved and sobbed and rambled, "I...’m s-sorry, I... I’m the wors' an’ you... shouldn’ be... doin’ this f’r me. I... ungratef’l an’... disgus’ing... an’ ’m... I’m so sorry. You both... hate me. I’m so-sorry, sorry. I’m sorry." 

He was left a rambling incoherent mess of I’m sorry’s mixed with self-deprecation and telling them to leave him but they didn’t. No, they didn’t leave because they would never leave. 

The smoothest of leather and lemon if it could be sweet wrapped around him. Along with sweet dandelion and mild eucalyptus that helped clear his mind and he sobbed more. Then he was engulfed in warmth. The feeling kin to when you open your car door to find the temperature just right compared to the cold of the outside and leather seats warm to the touch. Lemony air freshener so comforting you wanted to lay there and simply rest. That is what Junhyuk's hugs felt like. They felt like home and Yeonwoo couldn’t believe that he’d distanced himself so long that he’d forgotten what this felt like. 

How could he let go now? 

Junhyuk’s arms were strong and comforting as they wrapped around him. Yeonwoo too far gone pressed into him, tears staining the alphas shirt and oh god he should feel ashamed but he didn’t. No, because Yeseul too wrapped slim arms around the both of them and thought the image must have looked silly. An omega surrounded by a big alpha only for a tiny beta to surround them both, Yeonwoo couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was safe as he wrapped his arms around the alpha and didn’t let go. He was safe as Yeseul took one of his hands in hers and squeezed to comfort. And he was safe as leather and dandelion mixed together to embrace and calm and soothe. 

He was safe. 

A deep, pent-up sigh escaped him. A sigh that had been held back and one he hadn’t dared release for fear of something ruining the oncoming relief that was sure to come after. Something ruining the weight that had been lifted off his tired shoulders and something stifling the breeze that came after. Filling his lungs with relief and long-awaited peace. Yeonwoo rubbed a tired cheek against Junhyuk’s shoulder and began pulling away. 

Junhyuk let him. He let the omega pull away, though still keeping him close. Yeonwoo had finally done it. Ever since middle school the omega had always been closed off. After the incident, he hadn’t spoken a word about what had happened to him. Junhyuk had been there. He’d seen the aftermath and it haunted his dreams. Yeonwoo had been a shell of himself after. He’d closed the door and refused anyone entry. Refused help from even Junhyuk. 

But now he let go. He let him in and the alpha in him was ecstatic. He had to control his scent for fear of the pure joy he felt leaking through and ruining the moment. Yeonwoo needed them right now and no matter how much his alpha wanted to scent and praise and coddle the omega till he became sick of him now wasn’t the time. 

Yeseul caught his eye and they both nodded.

“Hyung,” Yeseul called, “Can you stand up?” The beta asked, still pumping out calming notes of dandelion and fresh eucalyptus as she was careful when taking Yeonwoo's arm. 

Yeonwoo looked at her from where he still clung to Junhyuk and reluctantly pried himself off–much to the alpha’s dismay. The omega let out a weak hum, voice raw from the long-suppressed cries he finally let out, and made a move to try and get up. Junhyuk took Yeonwoo’s hand, the omega giving him a tired yet still exasperated look that was Yeonwoo, and Junhyuk smiled as he offered to help him up. 

Yeonwoo nodded, a small smile donning tired features. Junhyuk stood up seconds after, carefully pulling Yeonwoo up from the undoubtedly uncomfortable kneel he found himself in. The newly presented omega stumbled a little, legs numb as he leaned onto Junhyuk for support. 

“Hyung…” Yeseul trailed off and Yeonwoo looked at her tired, “We have something to show you… if, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to! We–we understand and you're probably tired. Maybe you won’t like it. Honestly, it’s a mess and horrible and–

“Yeseul,” Junhyuk interrupted, “Calm down.”  

Yeonwoo offered a tired hand and Yeseul took it with both of hers in seconds, her giddy expression, mouth pulled into such a wide smile. It gave him enough motivation to offer her a small tired one in return, “Show me.”

Yeseul’s hand shook in his as she held it. Junhyuk had taken his other as Yeseul turned and Yeonwoo looked up at the alpha to find that puppy-like grin on his face once more. Yeonwoo knew the alpha was likely putting up a strong front, holding himself back for his sake. Yeonwoo knew better now and wouldn’t let him. He squeezed back as Yeseul led them while she opened the door. 

The light of the living room automatically gave him pause. He hadn’t been paying attention earlier, now, however, the difference was undeniable. The usual bright white lights that shone overhead were shut off. In their place little lamps—ambient lighting they would emit reminiscent of setting suns and raising dawns—lay scattered throughout. That alone invoked a sense of calm.  

Yeseul's hand squeezed once more, prompting him to take another step as he stopped in his tracks before even fully entering the room. The beta turned around, interlocking her fingers with his, giving him a light smile that bordered on shaky and terrified before leading him into the living room. Junhyuk’s hand in his cooled and Yeonwoo peeked up at the alpha to see the brief slip in his smile—a mix of fear and a sliver of hope—before it was replaced when the alpha caught him and that puppy–like smile was on full display. Yeonwoo turned his head to face Yeseul, a mix of emotions creating a cocktail of complex feelings he was too tired to think about. 

Their living room wasn’t much. The kitchen to the right of them as they entered, living area to the left and a dining area further in. The balcony was to the left of the dining area and Junhyuk’s room to the right.  Junhyuk and he were simple when it came to material wants so there wasn’t much besides basic necessities.

Though that was the case, as Yeonwoo fully stepped into the living room, beta in front and alpha behind him providing support he couldn’t help pause, look around, and do a double take. He didn’t notice Junhyuk’s hand gripping his a little tighter than usual and Yeseul’s smile slipped a tad. 

The changes weren’t major. Everything was relatively the same… so why didn’t it feel that way? 

They stopped right in the middle of the living room, Yeseul to his left and Junhyuk to his right. His first thought was that it was warm. It was warm the way smooth leather on a nice summer day was warm. It was warm in the way laying in a field of dandelions on a hot summer day filled you with such an overwhelming sense of calm. It was warm and their scents had seeped into the very fibers of everything in this room. 

Yeonwoo wanted to cry again. 

His head turned right. The kitchen countertop was clean, and two bright ambient lamps decorated the counter. They were simple, round, and the beams of gold emanating from them soft, not at all overwhelming. Yeonwoo turned his head left to look forward. The dining table had been cleared of the frankly boring plants to instead host one lamp at its center, its light dimmer but still pleasing to the eye. The space was the same yet similarity it felt as though he was seeing his home of 2 years in an entirely different light.

His hands slipped out of the hold of the two and he walked over to the most drastic change in the room. Yeonwoo didn’t notice how Junhyuk and Yeseul’s hands twitched at his departure and Yeseul’s hand reaching for Junhyuk’s. The alpha returned the gesture with a firm squeeze. He didn’t notice the slight shift of calm leather into something more, timid. 

He didn’t notice it. 

And how could he when the sight before him had stolen his attention, heart beating out of his chest the moment he’d laid teary honey-eyes on it. 

The nest. 

Oh, this was going to break him. He was going to wake up a mess. 

Yeonwoo sucked in a shuddered breath, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back tears. He had gleaned this was coming but it still overwhelmed him.

He knew this was coming. He’d briefly forgotten in his distress but he knew.

Yeonwoo hadn’t nested a day in his life. The closest thing he remembered was cuddling up to his omega mother as a pup. Her sweet scent of vanilla and mild orange fields comforting as she smothered warm kisses all over him. She would always seek him out during her heats. Cuddle and pet and coddle him to sleep to her heart's content. Yeonwoo always loved the happiness that radiated from her as she did so. He hadn’t had that in what felt like forever. 

“Hyu—” Yeseul was cut off with a hand over the mouth by Junhyuk before she could say another word. It's not like Yeonwoo heard her though.

Feet stepping forward unbeknownst to him, Yeonwoo raised his leg to prop onto the former couch-turned bed. The moment his bare leg touched the fabric that lay atop the couch he knew why Yeseul had opted to wear shorts. The blanket was unfathomably soft. Softer than the cushions of the chair the director gave him and the blanket Junhyuk has insisted on buying him to sleep with. Yeonwoo was near dropping into the rest of the nest on the spot. Body shaking, he didn’t.

Crawling to the center of the nest, back still facing the pair, Yeonwoo looked out the tall window in front of him. Soft blankets underneath and a beautiful view of colorful city lights ahead. The faint glimmer of stars overhead. If he weren’t so overwhelmed he would have thought of eyes of starless midnight. A faint breeze passed through and Yeonwoo found it refreshing instead of debilitating. 

Pillows of all shapes and sizes surrounded him, creating a wall of safety and Yeonwoo didn’t know what to say. The pillows were colorful. Shades of yellow, orange and blue all around and all of such high quality. How much money did they spend on these? Premium omega nesting materials were expensive and for good reason. Omega's comfort was no laughing matter, and this, these pillows looked expensive. 

Oh My God.

Tentatively, Yeonwoo raised a shaky hand to place on top of one of the pillows. Oh god, he bit his lip, it was perfect. Hands trembling, he picked up a blue pillow. It was soft and the moment he touched it his fingers all but sunk into the cushion and he almost collapsed then and there. His entire being shook as he picked up pillow after pillow, all of them fresh and clean, the smell of fresh laundry. These were new. They were recent. And Yeonwoo knew that fact alone meant they must have cost a fortune. 

Why had they gone so out of their way?

He patted around the space. It was perfect. Not a flaw in sight. A big enough ‘bed’ to sprawl around in. the softest blanket atop the bed that was soft to the touch and so comforting you didn’t want to leave. Every inch of his skin that touched the material was left tingling with anticipation and something clung to the back of his throat—waiting to be let out. Only then did it sink in that their choice in his attire was no joke.  

Pillows that rounded the perimeter of the nest, the perfect barrier. If he were to lay down and look at the edge he would be met with a wall of pillows barricading him. This was safe. 

He was safe. 

Then there were the clothes. The sight of them made him want to cry. Oh, why was he so emotional all of a sudden? This hadn’t happened before. He’d been fine before. Now he wanted to cry and scream and sob till he lay a tired mess. It was too good to be true. 

Every article of clothing the two wore that Yeonwoo had looked at twice was scattered around the ‘floor’ of the nest. Shirts, blazers, pants, a jacket or two. Junhyuk and Yeseul blankets that had most likely been seeped in their scents. 

The nest wreaked of smooth leather and dandelion fields. It smelled of faint lemon and eucalyptus. 

It was slow at first. Confused hands grappled with where to place what. Expression overwhelmed and confused and so many other feelings boiled underneath his surface and he had no clue what to do. He would place a hand somewhere and the comfort it brought was so much so he would pull back, terrified. Bear legs brushing against the warm blanket sent shivers up his spine at the sheer serial nature of the sensation so he was left a shake immovable mess. The ‘oh’ that left parted lips didn’t go unheard by Junhyuk and Yeseul and they both clung to each other tighter. He was terrified. But he wanted comfort. They’d gone out of their way to give him this, and he wanted this. Yeonwoo found that he genuinely wanted this for himself.

He wanted a nest.

Slow and careful, with an undercurrent of terror, Yeonwoo lowered his now overwhelmed body into the nest. Lighting struck him as he lay on his side. He’d made a mistake. Junhyuk and Yeseul blankets had been placed at the head of the nest where his head was to be. It wreaked of them. Yeonwoo swore he had been transported to joyrides in a brand new car as they rode through countryside greenery and the faint smell of lemon trees up ahead. 

He was done for. 

Yeonwoo lay in the nest completely limp. Not a word came out of him. How could he speak when from head to toe he was left overwhelmed. Soft blankets that touched sensitive skin leaving goosebumps if he so much as moved a muscle. Pillows that now towered over him from where he lay the perfect barricade from the outside world. And the smell of pack. The scents of those closest to him and the sheer strength of their scents alone left him a mess as he nuzzled against them and drowned himself in the all-encompassing feeling of safety.

Yeonwoo nuzzled into the blankets. His nose brushed against soft fabric and the feeling alone had him letting out the sigh he’d tried and now failed to keep in. Oh, this was nice. This was so nice he could stay like this forever. 

The only bad part about this nest was that it was too big. He needed more. He needed–   

Scampering to sit upright, hands between his knees, fingers digging into soft material to keep himself upright, Yeonwoo looked at the alpha and beta as they stood just outside his nest eyes wide in shock. He’d messed up. 

Junhyuk and Yeseul’s hands had clasped onto each other so hard they didn’t feel the pain of nails digging into their skin. How could they when the battle of resisting climbing into the nest and scenting the omega to oblivion was maddening. 

Omega. 

They knew Yeonwoo was an omega, the test results said as much. Even without that, only omegas held that level of beauty and allure. They knew he was an omega. Everything about him screamed omega since they’d found out that horrible day. 

But the realization had only now slammed into them, a tidal wave as they were left drenched with the aftermath. Honey eyes looked at them and the moment those eyes met theirs they knew he knew. 

Omega was beautiful. Yeonwoo was beautiful. Omega was to be cherished. They would cherish and appease his every whim.

Omega’s scents were to be upheld and cattered to.

Yeonwoo smelled as though they should do that and more. 

So much more.

The sweet, floral scent, of the purest of honey. So distinct and clear it couldn’t compare to any of the dreams they’d had about the possibility of smelling it for the first time. The scent danced and glided through the air with a sense of ease and clarity that was impossible to miss—omega was happy. A silken shawl draped over them, pulled them closer toward the owner of such a captivating scent. The owner of liquid amber captured in a jar for mere mortals to behold and adore and treasure till the end of their days. Yeonwoo smelled of cool citrus in the midst of a dry autumn day. Trees heavy with ripe citrus fruit on bending branches as you longed to take one to ease their burden and quench your thirst. A scent so sweet you can’t help wanting to follow. So captivating you can’t help but want to find the owner of such a scent to merely glimpse at them, nothing more. For how could someone so simple hope for anything more than that? Just one look was enough. 

“Fuck,” Yeseul whispered. 

Junhyuk parroted, voice barely below a whisper, “Fuck,” 

“Holy shit,” The bothe uttered.

There hearts hurt in the most glorious ways immagiable.

The light of the dim room enticing an amber hue in usually honey-colored eyes that looked back at them had the alpha and beta rendered mute. 

This is what it was like to be in the presence of an omega. The fairest designation deserved that title and with every passing second they spent enveloped in Yeonwoo’s scent they understood why. 

The hand in Junhyuk’s suffocated his, her nails digging into rough calloused hands and he couldn’t agree more. Whatever Yeonwoo wanted they would give. Whatever he asked of them they would do. Whatever he so much as took a passing glance at would be his. So many omegas lived in laps of luxury already. What was one more? Especially male omegas, the rarest designation. The moment Yeonwoo was found to be an omega they should have just locked him up and pampered him. Why not? They had money to spare. 

Honey and cool citrus enveloped them in an embrace that was equally hot and cold. Junhyuk felt Yeseul lean onto him for support as the beta was likely fighting back every instinct. They both fought every fiber of their being to not rush to the omega and– 

Delicate and soothing. 

Than, the joy that emitted from the scent, content and bliss, turned bitter and sharp. 

That very sharp nature of the scent—shaking them awake there eyes wide with terror and confusion—the clear fear the omega felt that permeated the air this very moment sent their once overwhelming bliss and willing obligation to cater to the omega’s every whim into intense worry and need to ‘make omega happy.’

Junhyuk was the first to act. Yeonwoo’s hands shook as he scampered to hide himself in one of the many blankets that lay for his choosing and when he’d gotten under it only made things worse. 

Yeonwoo had messed up. 

He’d let his scent out. Junhyuk and Yeseul had smelled him. It had taken Yeonwoo a while to realize the scent reminiscent of orange blossom honey and fall outings through a cool citrus field was him. He hadn’t realized it was him and the realization broke him. He’d truly rejected himself so long he didn’t even know himself. 

The fear that clung to him pulsed and unknowingly another wave of bitter manuka honey permeated the air and Yeonwoo shivered. He shivered from fear but the conflicting joy the scent of leather and dandelion brought him at every breath overwhelmed him. He was terrified yet elated, then confused.

“Yeonwoo!” Junhyuk's voice broke through his confusion and he peeked through a gap in his blanket for a lone eye to look at the alpha. 

Junhyuk looked a mess. Hair unkempt and sprouting every which way as he stood at the edge of the nest. The alpha’s breath was haggard. Yeonwoo swore he could see puffs of warm air with every exhale the alpha took. He gripped the edge of the nest with such force. The strain Junhyuk was under became more evident as Yeownoo watched the way the veins in his arms showed. Yeonwoo should have been scared… but he wasn’t.

“Yeon-ah,” The alpha spoke again, tone softer but just barely so as he restrained himself, “Can we come in,” he asked, desperate, Yeonwoo perked up, “Can you let us into your nest?” 

“Hyung,” Yeseul whined, “Hyung let us in... We just wanna help.”

The ‘please’ that was likely at the end of that sentence went unheard, but Yeonwoo heard it loud and clear. 

Normally Yeonwoo would have denied. 

Normally he would have given the alpha and beta dissaproving looks for the mere notion.

But that wasn’t normal. None of this was normal. 

The fear that clung to him as he’d simply let his scent flow through for the first time in 12 years was not normal. The way he’d pushed friends, now almost pack away for the better half of a decade, was not normal. He hadn’t nested. He hadn’t scented and Yeonwoo had never even allowed them the minimum of knowing how he felt let alone what he smelled like. 

None of this was normal. 

Junhyuk and now Yeseul’s looks of pure desperation as they looked at the pile of blankets he’d hidden himself away in confirmed it. Both faces flush with worry and hands antsy and they clung the pillows that acted as a barrier. Eyes trained on him and the reverence in them was overwhelming. They looked a mess. One word was all it would take to either crush those hopefully desperate expressions or make their day. 

Yeonwoo slowly, carefully, pulled soft blankets off his person and honey eyes met a two pairs one mint and one chestnut, “You… you don’t… you dont… hate the way I sm… the way I smell?” His voice was weak. Timid as he looked at the pair. Eyes hopeful.

Junhyuk and Yeseul knew they were at Yeonwoo’s mercy from the moment he’d revealed the symphony of intoxicating and rich liquid amber that left them at his beck and call. They knew they’d fallen deeper when the coolest of citrus had been thrown into the mix and they’d now wanted to please. Only now did they realize it wasn’t just them. 

The hope yet slight fear in the omegas eyes screamed it to them. 

“NO!” Their response was instantaneous. Loud and clear. Their expressions a mix of determination to console and hidden anger at the thought of “hating Yeonwoo’s scent”! 

The omega looked at them, first confusion, then realization shining as those eyes big and now brighter seemed to see them anew. 

“Yes.” Yeonwoo spoke before he thought to say no, arms reaching up toward them, inviting them, “Yes.” 

Yeseul cried tears of joy the moment she’d heard him as she flung herself into his arms with all the urgency of a puppy having waited for its owner to come home after such a long day. She’d clung to his neck as though she needed this. As though this was the greatest thing she could ever ask for. 

Junhyuk came next as strong arms wrapped him in a tight yet comforting hug. The protectiveness in his hold and ferocity with which he’d clung to him so foreign to Yeonwoo but the smooth leather that accompanied the alpha eased him into and soon he leaned into it. Slimmer arms hugged his waist and they’d all toppled onto the nest in a heap and the now stronger scent of overjoyed leather and dandelion coddled him.

The way their scents peaked in intensity had been slow. Even when their desperation and excitement tipped over they were careful with him. How could Yeonwoo not relax as he lay in a daze on the mattress once more.

Junhyuk’s scent of leather and lemon was more invigorating as opposed to Yeseul's calm as it wrapped around him. The sleek yet subtly sweet scent reminded Yeonwoo of a freshly bought car with supple leather seats, topped off with a hint of lemony polish. Riding with the windows rolled down, the air as they went smelling of lemon blossoms as the wind swept through his hair.

Misty, cool dandelion with the freshness of eucalyptus, reminiscent of coming outside after a heavy rainstorm to be met with the clean scent of the aftermath and a slight undercut of sweetness. It slowly seeped from her and enshrouded him. Yeonwoo breathed, unrestrained and… calm. Finally calm. 

He hadn’t felt this at peace in a long time. Yeseul was warm in the way sun rays peeked through silver clouds after a treacherous storm. Juxtapose to the boisterous yet sometimes anxious person that was Yeseul—very much like a storm herself—how ironic.

 Soon they’d lay huddled with Yeonwoo at the center and a beta and alpha clinging to him with no intention of letting go. He wouldn’t have it any other way. They’d calmed him. Having them so close had put him in such peace as soft blankets surrounded them and warm amber lights lit their small and cozy living room. 

 Warm and safe. 

He felt warm and safe, a comforting warmth not overwhelming and suffocating. 

That night they’d all slept in the nest, their cozy living room smelling of sun-drenched meadows and crisp spring mornings, and tangy citrus trees with the sweet aroma of honey anxiously than comfortingly blending into the mix. 

✿❀❁❀✿

“—woo”

“—eonwoo”

“HYUNG!”

Yeonwoo snapped out of his dazed state, startled honey eyes turning to face Yong Eunchae, “What? I’m sorry Eunchae, can you repeat that?” 

Eunchae and Ha Yejin exchanged glances, their worry mirroring each other as they spoke in a language only the two understood. 

Yeonwoo sat in his chair confused and waiting as Eunchae fiddled with her phone, a frantic mess as she stepped over to him only to pause as she sniffed the air.

“Hyung? Is that you?” The confusion in her voice hinted at joy as azure eyes looked at him as though they were seeing him for the first time. 

“No, no” he cleared because he knew where someone with a mind like Eunchae would head towards, “It's not like that, it's Junhyuk and Yeseul.” 

The disappointment in the form of muted peppermint was evident and just before she was about to speak Ha Yejin put a hand on Eunchae’s shoulder, catching the beta and the omega’s attention, “Eunchae.” Ha Yejin patted her shoulder, “What were you going to ask Yeonwoo?” 

“Oh! Yes! Hyung!” Eunchae tapped at her phone fingers nimble and quick as she went, “Well I was looking at the library forum yesterday and not only was it fun but people are super creative ya know?!”

Yeonwoo raised a brow.

The beta showed him her phone and scrolled through messages of patrons engaging in all types of conversation ranging from the books they liked to the ones they wanted to see added to the library. If his eyes didn’t deceive him, he swears he saw something along the lines of a “Who’s the prettiest omega we know.” poll, but he didn’t get a long enough look to see the results of that.

“We ya know I was doing that but one idea and request from the patrons always kept coming up ya know!” Eunchae bounced up and down as she spoke and Ha Yejin patted the betas shoulder to calm her. 

“We wanted to come to you since you're the one that was asked to do this in the forum but you don’t have to if you don’t want to!” Ha Yejin clarified and Yeonwoo was curious. 

“WE WANNA START A BOOK CLUB!” Eunchae yelled her frantic bouncing reaching such heights Ha Yejin had wrapped an arm around her waist to physically restrain her.

The bustling library quieted to nothing and Yeonwoo felt all the patron’s eyes on him as he looked at the beta shocked. Yeonwoo peeked at the patrons and those expressions that looked as though his very next words determined their livelihoods had him flush. 

“You can do what ever you want hyung! It’ll be like a monthly thing and you don’t have to worry about the scents we can do something about that I swear! And and-

She was cut of with a hand over the mouth by none other than the director.

Ha Yejin looked about to murder Eunchae for being not stopping and had Yeonwoo not reassured the alpha that he was fine and for her to calm down he doesn't know what would have happened to her. 

Hands fiddling in his lap and expression conflicted Yeonwoo spoke up after a while, “Let me think about it ok?” The sound of a book club was terrifying.

“Sure!” Eunchae piped, a subtle tilt of nerves on her tone and Yeonwoo squinted as he noticed how Ha Yejin squeezed her waist, likly to calm her. “Take your time Hyung… take all the time you need!” Though she was clearly nervous, the slightly ominous edge in her tone made Yeonwoo shiver.

Eunchae was gone, taking the director with her faster than he could truly register when she had asked and Yeonwoo blinked.

This… felt like a bad premonition.

[the-traveling-poet]

Laughter

Once the vets, yourself included, came to the realization you’d never heard so much as a chuckle from the infamous Captain Levi, a plan is immediately formed in order to find out just how his laugh might sound.

Although, you might just discover a little more.

Pairing: Levi x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, alcohol consumption

Taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

A/N: I got inspiration from this lovely post to write a little drabble for Levi’s adorable little laugh, and getting to hear it for the first time. So here I am taking a quick break from my fic to write some fluff!

Levi wasn’t one to physically express the emotions he felt on a daily basis. He kept his facial features neutral, for the most part.

Of course, if he were angered or stressed, perhaps concerned or confused, his facial muscles would respond accordingly; yet, always minutely. A raise of a brow here, a frown there, eyelids narrowing over grey pupils or nimble fingers tightening around the rim of his cup.

These were all physical signals his companions could take note of to guess at which emotion he was currently experiencing.

While discussing this once, among other things, you’d made the comment that soon shaped a plan you’d all soon hatch.

Had anyone ever seen him smile? A fleeting grin? Perhaps been quick enough to hear a chuckle, or even better; a full on laugh?

Hange, Miche, Nanaba and Erwin had no answers, and neither did you.

So here you all were now, sitting amongst yourselves in a loose circle with drinks in hand and a deck of cards splayed messily on the table top. The plan was to get Levi to loosen up a bit while under the influence, should he provide consent to your little game.

Hange had forced Levi to join the rest of you, despite his protests. Though, those soon died out when you stood and offered the man a seat with such a hopeful smile.

Grumbling all the while, he had sat next to your left and accepted a hand of cards and a bottle of alcohol. Satisfied that the first part had been accomplished, Hange shot you a triumphant grin and took their seat.

You all tried your best to either poke fun at one another or share jokes, ranging from mild to borderline offensive humor; just to catch a peak at Levi’s expression changing.

He indeed loosened up after several drinks, but hadn’t upturned his lips even once yet. Occasionally he had added onto some jest aimed another’s way, and leaned back comfortably in his chair. You were hopeful this would eventually lead to him relaxing his pressed lips into a smile.

But it wasn’t until you were on the brink of giving up nearly an hour into the card game, that he muttered a soft sound.

Reaching across the table for a card to draw, you’d scoffed under your breath with a glare aimed Miche’s way.

“Really, Miche? You play cards like titan’s shit; they cant.” 

The muffled sound from your left made you hesitate to grab the card off the deck.

Surely not…

Hange nearly dropped their hand of cards, while Miche and Erwin easily let theirs clatter to the table. It finally was happening, you realized, as you stared at the raven beside you.

His red tinted face was half obscured by his hand, while the other hand laid his cards onto the table. With shaking shoulders and watering eyes, Levi met your bewildered stare and again the sound escaped him. Though he attempted to muffle it, he couldn’t seem to hold it in anymore.

Slowly that muffled chuckle turned into an actual laugh as his hand started to fall away from his mouth. His lips were pulled back in a casual grin, exposing white teeth as he took in a breath.

“…Like titan’s shit…” He giggled. Actually, giggled. The hand previously covering his face clutched at his stomach as tears lined his silver eyes. His laughter was contagious; lighter than his usual tone and somehow softer.

You stared on in awe as Hange soon burst out in laughter as well, making no attempt to hide their amusement. Erwin chuckled along with the shake of his head while Miche tried his best to grumble about the insult, but after a shared look with Nanaba he too snorted through his nose.

“That’s the best damn joke I’ve ever heard,” Levi chuckled, raising what was left of the booze in his bottle towards his lips to finish it off. He glanced back your way, and you couldn’t help but notice the blush adorning his cheeks and his ears remained as he continued to smile your way. Shaking yourself of the shock, a grin broke out over your face.

“And that’s the best damn laugh I’ve ever heard,” You giggled back, watching as he caught his breath. The tips of his ears grew a little redder, and he suddenly became very interested in gathering up the cards he’d set down, grumbling something or another under his breath.

You grinned over at Hange, expecting to silently celebrate your all’s success with them. But the section commander only grinned back at you, glancing between Levi and yourself with a suggestive wiggle of their brows.

Your flustered gaze flitted between Hange and Levi, slowly putting together what they had silently suggested. Levi caught the look and immediately reached for another bottle, and you were quick to do the same.

The game commenced; laughter bouncing off the walls and cards sliding across the table like nothing had happened. But with the sparse glances shared with Levi, accompanied by his occasional chuckle, you knew things weren’t quite going to be the same again. At least, between the two of you.

Laying down another card from your hand, you grinned the raven’s way with determination to make him laugh once again.

[theroyalyandere]

Hi! May I request some headcanons for the yandere emperor & a fire mage? Maybe a fire mage that works for him/the empire?

yandere!emperor x fire mage!reader

authors note: I would like to make this gender neutral if you don't mind :> I added some spicy scenes but not full on smut!

content warning ⚠️: dark content, yandere, murder, noncon/dubcon, kidnapping

let's set the scenario shall we? you first met the newly crowned emperor as the new fire mage of his empire

when he first laid his eyes on you, he thought you were the most loveliest being he has ever seen

he kept his eyes on you so intensely that he never looked at anyone inside that room besides you

his eyes tell a dangerous story, so you look away trying to focus on the words of your master introducing you and a few other mages to serve the empire

the emperor immediately approves and makes a request for his servants to escort all of you to your rooms

a week in the palace, the emperor always took time to visit the mages' chamber to check the latest updates on everyone's work but actually he's there just for you

he's always behind you, following almost breathing down your neck

he keeps asking so many questions you try to keep up with him as he is the emperor

everyday, despite his duties he always manages to find time to see you even during your times of relaxation

he's very possessive and obsessive, he found out your schedule through his spies and every person you interact with your daily life

if someone ever gave a hint of interest with you small or big, it doesn't matter because that person will be declared dead the next day

it worries you what has been happening around you, you later confided with the emperor who has now become a sort of companion to you despite his presence by your side making you isolate yourself from everyone else

his eyes had a glint but his words were full of reassurance that no harm will ever come in your way, just continue being his little mage and he will secure you for life

you did as you were told so, you were often called to be by his side to the point you couldn't even work properly due to the amount of time spent with him

he loves to see you perform your magic infront of him, always watching with a fascinated grin

he indulges you and your fixation towards your experiments and he always gave you the latest gadgets and things that would help you improve

he also moved your chambers right next to his without your permission, despite your protests he says it's for your safety and so you will no longer walk far from his own

he makes it very clear for everyone that you are untouchable

as your relationship progresses his actions became a little more... Intimate

you found his hand lingering with whatever skin he could find or brush his hands on it

he also has a thing with pressing your back to his chest

you would not resist fearing for his anger when he gets too close for your comfort then he breathes you in like a drug

he took a liking to showing you as you were his spouse by making you stand beside him at balls earning the stink eyes of the nobles and whispers

it would definitely reach to him and immediately that person is either dead or fallen from nobility

one of the mages bitterly expressed the obvious favoritism towards you and the next day they were found dead

you grew cold when you found out, it's no denying who's the cause behind the deaths that has been circulating

however you are not a fool and you kept your mouth shut despite the urgency to run away because you no longer felt safe

the emperor could sense your anxiety and he knew it's only a matter of time he has to make extreme actions to keep you by his side

despite your magic he is still smarter than you

you thoroughly made a plan on how to escape the capital and yet to no avail you found yourself cornered by his men

you used your magic against all of them defeating some but they did not relent and still decided to pursue you

you felt something hit you and you fell unconscious

when you wake up, you are in a extremely dark place only wearing a thin robe with shackles around your wrists and ankles making you immobilized

your struggle echos and soon the door opens with the emperor coming in with a dim expression on his face he sits infront of you and tries to brush your face but you turn away

you beg him to let you go and stop the madness but your begging only spurned him on

"you think you could run away from me my love? I am not the emperor for nothing dear. you should never underestimate me. ever. again." he says with a growl his expression almost looks manic

it scares you what he has turned into

he gets on top of you and you try to kick him away

"tsk tsk, stop being defiant now obey your emperor and submit. I will guarantee you everything you want if you obey me."

he places his hand around your throat to stop the flow of oxygen and slowly your movement ceased then he let go

he gets closer to your face and licks the tears streaming down your eyes, his hands untying the thin robe covering your body

your nakedness makes your vulnerability even worse as your stomach fills with dread with what is about to come

his hands rub and grope your skin making you nauseous with his actions

he breathes raggedly almost salivating at the thought of consuming you whole

you cry out more

"If you don't stop from being naughty, I guess I have to go with the rough way."

okay this is kinda meh I'm sorry 😞

[garoujo]

SWALLOW ME WHOLE — BLUE LOCK

feat : nagi seishiro, itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke + barou shoei

♱ warnings — m!receiving oral, blowjobs, deepthroating, all characters written 18+, praise, teasing, exhibitionism [nagi is on call w his friends] + slight mention in barous. / note. i had 2 do 6 but phew never again .. i just couldn’t choose 4 these <3

・✶ ｡ﾟ NAGI SEISHIRO

“why do y’wanna do this so bad anyway? isn’t it a pain.” nagi grunts as you blink up at him from between his legs, deliberately smoothing your palms up the broad muscle of his thighs just so you can feel the muscles twitch underneath your touch as his cock jumps. “not if it’ll make you feel good, don’t you want to?” as if he would ever say no to you, especially when you’re already palming at his cock. “y-yeah i guess. so i just gotta keep playing?” he’s already panting when he helps you pull down his sweats, shuddering when you send him a seductive little look followed by a long, rough stroke of your palm along his cock when you wrap your hands around the base — leaving a soft kiss against the precum gathered at the tip as he puts on his headset so he can hear isagi and the others. “just don’t make a sound or people will know.” “that’s fine, ‘ll be focusing on winnin’ anyway.”

or that was nagi’s plan anyway, until he actually had your mouth wrapped around him and now he can’t focus on anything else but that. “f-fuck.. uh, took damage. almost died.” there’s an unsteady waver to his usual tone when he feels you swirl your tongue along the sensitive folds of his cock, trailing it along the slit on his blunt head until his hips twitch and his head rolls back, his hold on the controller trembling as he tries so hard to keep his eyes from fluttering closed. but his reactions were so intoxicating, only spurring you on when he casts a few glances at you — needy and already so flustered when he notices you’re already looking back. “mmm, no fair.”

you let your jaw relax before you push nagi’s heavy cock down the tight tunnel of your throat, feeling his thighs twitch at the warmth that consumes him before another low, ragged whimper falls from his lips and you’re pretty sure he’s getting grilled off his team right now for how much he sucks when you hear him mutter out an “ah.. i died.” before his controller is forgotten and his hands are smoothing along the dip of your shoulders instead. he huffs, lips jutting out and you hum before he’s guiding you along the length of him, fucking into your mouth slowly as he pushes back against his chair with a low, long whine — a sound that’s much prettier and breathier than the few before as you feel his cock twitch on your tongue. “fu-uck—huh? don’t worry ‘bout reviving me right now, ‘ts fine.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ ITOSHI SAE

sae’s sharp gaze cuts down into you as you let yourself kiss along the sensitive sides of his cock, and despite the way he’s got his cheek propped up against his fist — looking down at you with a carefully neutral expression, you can still feel the way he’s throbbing at every single touch. you feel one of his palms rest against your cheek before he’s tapping at the skin, and he breathes out a sigh when you know what he wants immediately — letting your lips close around the tip of his cock before you’re letting him bob your head closely. “you’re listening well, sweetheart. do you want my cum that bad? ‘s that it?”

he feels your throat open up for the push of his cock and the doe-eyed little look you send him before your eyes flutter closed basically beg to let you taste him. sae pushes you down harder until your lips stretch around the base of his cock and your nose presses tight against his groomed pelvis, pretty abdomen tightening at the way your throat gag and chokes around him — coaxing and breaking his resolve. you tap on his thigh when you feel your vision become dizzy, and because it’s you — he lets you pull back, letting your spit catch along his silky skin of bud shaft with the wet withdrawal.

“hm, you can do better.” sae drawls when you blink up at him, feeling him graze his thumb across the stray tears that fall along your cheek as you suckle at the head, swiping away the precum gathered there before you hollow your cheeks and suck, followed by the press a few wet kisses along the sides of his cock. but you can tell he’s cracking with the flush on his cheeks and the twitch of his abdomen, his lips parting to allow him to pant every so softly. “tch, you’re such a greedy thing.. pretty like this.” before he’s guiding you back down his cock. “again.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ SHIDOU RYUSEI

“that’s the stuff, baby—shit!” shidou grunts as you let your tongue roll through the sensitive slit of his cock, cleaning up the pre-cum that’s gathered there as you pump your spit along the length of him with slow, languid strokes. you watch him suck his lower lip between his teeth as the corners of his lips curl into a smirk and his hand curls around the back of your neck, urging you to wrap your lips around him before he’s guiding you down — breathing out a laugh as he eases his hips into your mouth.

he could watch you do this all fucking day, watch the tears that gather along your pretty lashes when he thrusts just a little too deep so he can feel the way you choke on his cock. you let your cheeks hollow as you suckle and hum around shidou before he’s pulling you even deeper until you’re reduced to punched out gasps. “y’re gonna have me fallin’ in love~” he sings before he breathes out a laugh that breaks off into something needier when his thighs quake on the next thrust, the pleasure he feels twist in his abdomen only urging him to build a pace.

he’s like a wild animal with the way he’s fucking into your mouth, eyes fluttering closed as a hormone-drunken mantra of groans and moans fall from his parted lips. you feel shidou’s hands twitch tighter into the skin of your neck before the other rests against the back of your neck, keeping you in place to take the quick roll of his hips as he loses himself in the way your throat twitches and pulls him even deeper, basically begging him to paint it white. “i’m g’nna cum, shit.. ya suck my dick so good, babygirl. feel it in my fuckin’ dreams.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ BACHIRA MEGURU

“come on, baby.. quit teasin’ me, jus’ suck on it a lil.” bachira whines from wheres he’s lying back on your bed, arms stretched behind him as he props up his head and watches the way you tap the head of his cock on your tongue. the way you’re twisting your wrist around his shaft makes him feel like he might pass out considering how long you’ve been teasing him, only closing your lips around the head to suckle lightly for a few seconds — but he fucking loves it like this. “make me feel so good.. mhm, look so pretty suckin’ on my cock, lemme see.”

you squeeze at bachira’s shaft lightly before you’re finally taking him into your mouth again, bobbing down a few inches before you’re hollowing your cheeks and drawing back with a lewd, wet pop that has him grinning down at you. “see, you can do it — take all of it, m’kay?” his palm rests against the back of your head as you relax your jaw, blinking up at him so prettily as your lips part and spread around him and you let yourself sink down on his cock — the walls of your throat squeezing around him as he arches ever so slightly against the sheets, hips twitching to push more of his cock into the tight hug of your mouth. “fuck, baby.. gonna give you so much cum, you want it don’t you, mhm?”

bachira’s so fucking wound up by the time you finally let your nose press against his pelvis, you can feel him throb and thicken on your tongue when you drag your head up, his abdomen flexing before his thighs quake on a thrust and he moans, choked off and needy when you swallow around him again. but you don’t allow him any relief when you immediately pop back down, making him moan so loud and shamelessly when you basically drag his orgasm out of him and you taste the sudden rush of his cum along your tongue. you pull back slightly to allow yourself a proper taste as bachira shallow fucks his cock into your mouth, twitching and whining with how fucking good you feel around him. “t-take it all, baby.. don’ waste it — can go again.. can give you more mkay?”

・✶ ｡ﾟ KUNIGAMI RENSUKE

“that’s right, baby.. fuckin’ take it—shit..” kunigami grunts from where he’s pressing himself against the kitchen counter, fucking hypnotised by the sight of you on your knees with your lips wrapped around his heavy cock. his blunt nails dig into your scalp when something carnal boils in his stomach, your own nails leaving pretty crescent moon marks along his now exposed thighs and abdomen as you swirl your tongue along his tip to lick away the precum, taking a deep breath and relaxing your jaw to take his cock once more.

it was his fault for walking around shirtless after his post-workout shower — sweats hanging dangerously slow on his hips as he leaned against the kitchen counter, it was unfair how hot he looked. you feel kunigami brace himself before he moves to rest his back against the marble behind him, feeling the hand on the back of your head flex before he’s forcing more of his cock into your warm mouth, his heavy balls pressing tight against your chin before you gag, spluttering before he pulls back again with a low groan and a gargled curse under his breath. “that all you got? shit, can do better, i know you can — you want my cum? gotta take it for yourself.”

kunigami’s teasing you, you can tell by the blown look he gives you but it’s charming considering the way his tone shakes with want, his thighs trembling either side of you along with the needy twitch in hips that makes him sink more of his cock down the tight tunnel of your throat, working his hips back and forth until he’s hissing when your nose presses against his pelvis and you swallow around him. “fuck! keep those fuckin’ eyes on me when y’re suckin’ my cock.”

・✶ ｡ﾟ BAROU SHOEI

“tryna make me cum already, princess? shit..” you loved the way barou looked when he was so fucked out on you, his usual signature hair laying flat to curl against his cheekbones as he sends you a half lidded look. he was the perfect picture of power and ease, allowing yourself to gaze up at him with wide eyes until you eventually let your eyes flutter closed—relishing in the pleasured sting his thick cock gives you when it pushes through to choke you as he growls, low and long.

barou was still coming down from the adrenaline of his game, his goals.. although still a little pissed and tense, he couldn’t help but take you up on your offer to help him wind down — especially not when you offered the idea up to him as you sunk down to your knees. you feel his fingers tighten in the dip of your shoulder as you pull back, and he gives you two deep breaths before he’s pulling you forward again, toes curling when he feels you hollow your cheeks to bob your head along the length of him. “i’ll score 100 fuckin’ goals if this is what it gets me.. fuck you in the damn stands so everyone knows y’re mine.” barou groans, listening to the small, punched out gasps that escape your tight throat every time his hips sink forward. he braces himself with each thrust, keeping a heavy, steady rhythm before his long fingers are curling along the underside of your throat, to feel the way his cock is bulging through the skin.

the light swirl in your head is fuzzy and warm, feeling your toes curl with a sharp wave of pure desire from where you’re kneeled at his feet when he’s pressing you closer—his heavy balls pinned against your chin as messy, wet spit trails down your skin with each swirl of his hips. “you want my cum, babygirl? gonna clean me up real good?” a breathless edge follows barou’s voice when he cuts himself off with a deep growl, watching your eyes flutter and you moan before you’re nodding against his hip, lips stretched deliciously around the base. “don’t make a mess, better take it all.. fuck—jus’ cleaned the sheets.”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[sevngmin148]

Bad Day || ksm x reader

boyfriend!seungmin & gender neutral reader

genre: fluff/comfort

warnings: crying

summary: seungmin comforts you after a long and draining day.

note: new blog! it’s been a while since i’ve written, so it’s a bit short!

To say your day had physically and emotionally drained you would be an understatement. You felt like a zombie as you stumbled into your apartment, dropping your stuff by the door and toeing off your shoes before making your way to the couch and collapsing onto it. You glanced up as you heard your boyfriend make his way into the living room, your eyes immediately filling with tears as you looked up at him. Before either of you could say anything, he rushed over and took you into his arms.

Seungmin just rubbed your back as you cried into his shoulder, sitting on the couch and pulling you closer, whispering words of encouragement into your ear. He never really knew how to comfort people, but he always tried his best when it came to you.

When your tears finally slowed and you were able to take a few deep breaths, Seungmin pulled back and cupped your cheeks. He wiped your tears with the pads of his thumbs, a small pout on his lips. “Bad day?” He tilted his head slightly as you nodded, sniffling softly. “Nobody at work ever takes me seriously. I had to make three coffee runs today. Then the printer was jammed and nobody else bothered to do anything but complain, so I had to fix it. On top of that, my boss wasn’t happy with the project I turned in.” You rambled on about how stressful your day had been as Seungmin listened intently, holding your hands and stroking your knuckles while nodding and humming. When you finally finished spilling out your frustrations, you sighed and shook your head, looking up at him.

“Go take a shower and I’ll order something for dinner. Then we can watch whatever you want.” He leaned in to peck your lips, taking note of the way your shoulder relaxed as you nodded in agreement. “Thank you, Min.” You mumbled while climbing to your foot, dragging yourself to the bathroom.

After your shower, you felt much more relaxed. Wearing your comfiest pajama pants and one of Seungmin’s shirts, you made your way back to the living room, a small grin forming on your lips as you eyed the boxes of food he’d ordered. Plopping onto the couch, you leaned into his side and kissed his cheek as he wrapped his arm around you, putting your favorite show on TV. “You’re the best boyfriend I could ever ask for.” You sighed contently as he mirrored your grin and kissed your forehead. “Anything for you.” He responded, passing you a plate filled with your favorite foods.

The two of you giggled and ignored the TV as you are and talked, Seungmin telling you about his day at the studio and all the chaos his members caused. “Chan looked like he was gonna explode, you should’ve seen the vein in his forehead!” He cackled, throwing his head back as you tried to muffle your own laughter. Once you were sufficiently stuffed with food and your sides ached from laughing, you rested your head on Seungmin’s shoulder. He ran his fingers through your hair, watching you with an affectionate expression as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “I’ll clean up real quick.” He planted a quick peck to your lips before climbing to his feet and cleaning up all of the food.

As much as you fought to stay awake, you were just too exhausted and were fast asleep by the time he put everything away. Chuckling to himself, Seungmin lifted you bridal style and carried you to your shared bedroom, laying you down before carefully climbing into bed with you. “I love you.” He whispered, holding you against his chest.