#Pi Fingers Motivation

[k-hotchoisan]

body language

<yunho x fem!reader>

well, pining after your brother’s fucking attractive best friend isn’t a sin if he doesn’t know right? nobody has to know.

nobody has to know that you're lodged in his fantasies when the nights deepen.

nobody has to know what happens when you're forced to share a room with Yunho.

Genre/Warnings: smut, big dick! X Perverted! Yunho, unprotected sex, low key corruption kink, mutual pining, cream pies, fingering, orgasms, overstimulation, oh no they are forced to share a room!, sexual tension, dirty talk

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee

🩷 back to staying perverted

A/N: send me to jail for being so inactive TT I know life happens and I shouldn't apologise for going mia for a bit but I still feel so bad! Nonetheless, please continue giving my works as much love as you all always do, and that ya'll are my source of motivation. Thank you for waiting ❤️

Undoubtedly, it’s either your brother has good taste in making friends, or you just have interesting taste in men, because out of all men you had a crush on, it had to be the one closest to your brother—Jeong Yunho. Something about him made your heart flutter uncontrollably. Maybe it was the way he would lean in towards you when he wanted to whisper something in your ear, keeping your brother an arm’s length while his voice tickled perfectly as it reverberates in your brain. Maybe it was the way he would hold your stare for a couple of seconds before his pretty smiles spreads across his lips, as if he was keeping a secret that he wants to tell you. Maybe it was the way he would bump his arm against yours when he wants to ally with you to piss your brother off. 

Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that the feelings you had for him were growing exponentially. How you managed to keep said feelings in bay was a mystery. You could attribute it to knowing Yunho for as long as you did. Maybe he treated everyone nice and politely like that. It was hard not to keep your hopes up sometimes and it really made you frustrated. 

“A chalet?” You repeat. “What’s the occasion?” 

“Just a weekend out”, your brother replies. “A couple of friends will be coming. You know them, including Yunho.���

“Are you going?” Yunho suddenly asks. 

You break eye contact with Yunho, going back to your phone. “No. I’m going on a date.”

Yunho’s eyes widen. There is a flash of panic that flickers in his eyes. His words spill out of him before he realises it. 

“With who? How come I didn’t know?” 

You cast a confused glance at him. “Why would you need to know?”

That was when Yunho realises, and he simmers down, going back to hiding behind his phone screen. He bites his tongue, hoping you nor your brother ha caught on. But thankfully, no one else questions him. In fact, your brother doubles down.

“Yeah, you didn’t tell me?” Your brother echos. 

“As if you’re interested in my love life”, you playfully retort, rolling your eyes before you disappear into your room, before Yunho starts to hear your heartbeat right in your ears again. 

Yunho stares blankly at his phone, still processing that you’ll be going on a date. Something sits uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He’s running his brain, thinking of a million ways to make you cancel the date, half of it under the pretence of your brother. How could he do it without making it obvious? 

“And why would I cancel my date, Jeong Yunho?” You ask, your arms crossed. For some reason, your brother and Yunho were suddenly way too interested in your date. Especially Yunho. He would not get off your back about it. 

“It’s dangerous? Who knows he might be a serial killer!” He was really dramatic about too, might you add. 

You scoff, and an amused smile tugs the corner of your lips, as your hand reaches out to pat his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Yun. You’re on my speed dial if anything happens okay?” 

For a moment, you feel his gaze piercing right into you, as if time didn’t exist—the both of you caught in between each other’s gazes, Yunho looking like he wants to say something, but he stops himself. You quickly break the eye contact, remembering that he’s your brother’s best friend, and that Yunho is just being as worried as your brother. Nothing more than that. Yunho wants to hold the gaze longer. He almost wants to break the imaginary boundaries then both of you set, but he snaps into to reality when he watches you leave, his voice trapped in his throat. 

Fuck. Looks like he’s the one losing now. 

It doesn’t help that during that night, you slip into his dreams, and instead of you leaving, he has your face in his hands, and your lips are on his. He feels you in your entirety, and you feel so fucking good pressed against him. Yunho wants so badly to mark every part of you, to remind you he could do so much better than whoever you’re supposedly going out with. He could kiss you better, fuck you better. Then it switches—to you in front of him, your ass bouncing off his cock, loud smacks echoing from the walls as he sinks into your pussy with a broken sigh.

That’s when he fucking jolts awake, warm fluids streaming down his thighs, as he swallows an imaginary mass in his throat because what the fuck just happened? He stares blankly at the white ceiling of his room, mind as blank. 

How fucked is he?

Yunho reaches to the doorstep of the chalet, almost close to midnight. Dance practice had bleed past the time, later than he thought. He greets his friends at the barbecue pit, still grilling chicken and seafood, stealing a stick and getting playfully hit before he enters the chalet itself. 

Your brother sat there, comfortable with his girlfriend’s legs crossed over his lap as they had joycons in their hands, playing some kind of co-op game together. His friend turns to him, before his eye dart back to the screen once he acknowledges Yunho, much too engrossed with the level he and his girlfriend was at. 

“Your room’s to the left of the stairs. I hung your lanyard there”, your brother says, before his attention goes right back to the game. For a spilt second, he suddenly remembers that he wanted to tell Yunho something, something important, but when his girlfriend squeals at clearing the level, the thought is completely erased from his memory.

Yunho climbs up the stairs, pushes the door open, and completely stops in his tracks as his gaze locks with yours. You’re seated on the bed, relaxed and on your phone until the door suddenly pushes open, and Yunho stands there, looking as bewildered as you. 

There is a long moment of silence between the both of you. 

“Can I help you, Yunho?” You break it. 

“No…isn’t this my room?” Yunho clarifies. You glance around and shrug. 

Yunho drops his bag, his heart beating loudly in his chest. 

His eyebrows furrow, confusion sprawled across his face. 

“Hold on. Weren’t you suppose to be on a date?” 

You shrug again. “Yeah. It ended early. I thought of finding my brother and he asked me to use this room since it was vacant. I supposed he forgot to tell you? I could leave if-“

“N-no. You can stay, since you’re already here”, Yunho cuts you off. No fucking way is he wasting this chance. Somehow the thought of you within the same, close proximity is making his head dizzy. “You’re okay with sharing the bed? I can sleep downstairs.”

Your face starts to heat up. As much as it was the elephant in the room, for Yunho to bring up so straightforwardly like that was making your mind wander a little too close to the sun. 

You force a small smile. “It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Well, not a lie, the only thing was that the both of you were blacked out drunk when it happened that one time. 

Yunho’s signature smile appears. He looks comforted, at least. “Right. Then I’ll use the bathroom to wash up.” He grabs a spare towel on the rack, then walks back to dig for his clothes in his duffle before he disappears into the bathroom, leaving you with your messy thoughts. Your hand is over your heart, and you feel it beating a little too wildly. 

Nothing’s gonna happen. Two people of the opposite sex can share a bed just fine, is what you tell yourself. Yeah, that would have been the case, if the opposite gender wasn’t Jeon Yunho. 

Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen years in all honesty. The anxiety wouldn’t simmer down, so you end up burying yourself underneath the cold sheets, hoping that you’d end up falling asleep. 

And by some miracle, you did. That is, until you feel the mattress weigh down, and shuffling on the sheets, then something bumping against your leg. You stir slightly from the disruption.

“Sorry. The bed’s a little…cramped”, you hear Yunho’s voice tickling your ears as his legs press against yours. 

You stay silent, the only things that you hear are the whirling of the air conditioning and the sound of your heart about to fucking burst from your rib cage. 

“It’s fine”, you finally reply, your body completely still, unsure how actually close the male is against you, only his legs pressed up against the back of your knees and his arms are barely touching your back as a gauge. Well, you weren’t in the mood to find out. The myriad amount of assurances you repeat to yourself that he’s just a friend, that he’s just Jeon Yunho, does nothing to comfort you to say the least. 

You hear his voice ring a little to close to your ears again. “How was your date?”

You don’t want to answer, your eyes are focused onto the darkness of the door in front of you. You fear that he might hear your thoughts if you speak, even though that’s literally impossible. 

“It was fine”, you curtly reply, squeezing the spare pillow in your arms. 

“What did you think of him?” 

“I think he’s okay. He’s quite a decent guy. Then again, it’s just the first date”.

The mattress shifts suddenly and you freeze when you feel him inch even closer to you. You have no clue what expression he’s making but from the way he suddenly shifts rather dramatically, you would assume that he seemed shocked? 

Oh, you were definitely about to find out. 

“You’re planning to see him again?” He’s closer now. You feel his chest almost pressing against your spine. You feel his gaze piercing daggers into the back of your head. You feel his agitation. But over what?

“I haven’t decided on that yet”, you reply. But you cut him before he says anything, “but what’s it to you? You usually don’t care about the things I do. Let alone my dates.”

This time, it’s Yunho’s turn to fall silent. The weight of the mattress beneath you shifts once more it stills. For a moment, you assume that he’d shifted away from you, and maybe he’d let the matter die off.

“Who said I didn’t?”

Now he’s completely pressing his body against you—you feel his lips just a hair’s length from the back of your neck, his chest completely flat against your back. 

His crotch right against your ass. 

“Yunho-“, you try turning to face him before the both of your start making any mistakes, but his hand presses your waist down, halting any movements you were about to make. Heat is flushing your cheeks.

“I’ll stop if you don’t want to, and I’ll turn away, and sleep downstairs. I won’t force you if you don’t want to.”

Shit, shit, shit. The more words Yunho speak, the more they aren’t registering in your damn head. His voice is melting in your ears, low and dangerous. The consequences that once rang like alarm bells in your head slowly grow muted, and now it’s just your carnal desire to let Yunho do whatever he wanted to you.

“I’m not doing this without your consent, my dear”, he reminds , and his hand is slowly trailing off your body. 

All the repercussions, completely wiped off when your feelings that you once tried to fucking hard to suppress behind to bubble up to the surface, and for Yunho to just summon them so easily when he says it so gently and with such  temptation.

But you should still probably stop this-

From the way you’re staying quiet, Yunho is ready to just cut his advances. After all, he’s not interested in making you feel uncomfortable, as much as he wants to just ruin you all for himself. He keeps his breathing light, but his heart is still beating loudly in his chest, bracing himself for the rejection, his hand gradually lifting from your waist, very much reluctantly-

Until he feels your hand cup his. 

“I wanna feel you, Yunho”, you answer him, loud enough for him to hear, even though it was only the two of you within the confines of the room. 

Yunho feels like he’s not close enough to you, even though the both of you are squeezed together, and his erection is evident—pressing shamelessly against the curve of your ass. It’s driving up the wall. 

Another thing he doesn’t expect is the way your fingers curl around his wrist, and you bring him to your braless tits, and he short-circuits when his fingers press against your hard nipples. You curse softly when he rolls them gently against his fingertips, and you lean back against his chest. Yunho takes the chance to kiss your neck down to your shoulders, making you melt all over again. 

But he doesn’t want to stay there for long. His cock is just throbbing and it’s overtaking his rationale. 

You always offhandedly complimented that Yunho had such long, slender and pretty fingers, and that he made mundane actions—writing, typing—look so attractive.

And now, his fingers are prying your legs to spread open for him.

His fingers dip into the wetness of your soaked folds, and his mind almost completely blanks out for the second time at the way you’re drenched for him. 

“Fuck. All of this for me?” He asks rhetorically, as he easily sinks two fingers in, hearing you choke from how his fingers are filling you up so well. The tip of his fingertips press against a spongy spot, and your head tilts back, face so flushed from the pleasure when he begins curl his fingers while in you and while he fucks your wet cunt. 

He’s not letting you form any coherent thoughts in your head, not while he’s finger fucking the thoughts right out your poor brain.

“You’re so fucking soft. Shit. I really want to fuck you so fucking bad”, he grunts in your ear, his hips grinding against your ass like a natural instinct to. 

“Your cock”, you mutter, struggling to keep your eyes open and mind clear. “Fuck. Need you to fuck me so good.”

Yunho inhales the scent of your hair wash as he peppers bites and kisses down the nape of your neck, smiling when he feels goosebumps spread across your skin.

He’s so tempted. But not yet. He desperate—desperate to see you fucking fall apart just with his fingers.

So he pulls his soaked fingers out, and for a moment, you whine at how empty your cunt feels, just ready to fucking beg him to fuck you with his fingers, his cock, whatever. 

He sits up, pushing the thick and heavy blankets aside, tugging your wet bottoms and panties off, giving himself a mental reminder to pocket your panties when he’s done with you. 

You’re spread open and perfectly wide for him to admire and drool over. By now, his eyes are pretty much adjusted the darkness, and the both of you are lazy to switch on the nightlight, so he’s definitely able to see your pussy in full view.

“Y-yu-“, your words completely cut off when he plunges two fingers right into your pussy again, filling you up completely. And this time, his other hand is on your clit, fingers rubbing, sending sparks flying beneath your eyelids. 

The pleasure makes you buck your hips, and it builds so dangerously quick in your abdomen. The sounds of your pussy growing so fucking wet only encourages Yunho to pick up the pace, catching a rhythm of fucking and rubbing your clit so perfectly that you realise the feeling is growing way too funny. 

“Y-Yunho-“ you try again. “Oh god. Feels weird.” Nonetheless, you don’t say it without your eyes rolling back and your abdomen flexing. 

“That’s it. Let it go for me, baby. It’ll feel so fucking good.”

Oh fuck. You don’t even register it before it happens—it totally washes over you, and you’re just helplessly submitting to how fucking good this feels as you squirt all over Yunho, your mind swimming in the depths of ecstasy, your moans drowned when Yunho seals your lips shut with his, greedy to just keep them all to himself, and well, also not trying to wake the whole chalet up. 

When Yunho pulls back and sees how flushed spent your face looks, he can’t help but sink deeper into his feelings for you. He goes in for another kiss, this time with your mind slowly clearing from the mind-blowing orgasm. Your arms wrap around his neck instantly, pulling him as close as you could, soft moans in between kisses only making him impossibly harder than he already was. 

He shifts to lie down on the bed with you again, this time the both of you facing each other. He tugs the hem of your shirt and lugs it over your head, before lowering himself slightly to face your chest. You don’t know how but his pants are somehow kicked off, somewhere on the bed, and he’s bare and so fucking hard when he presses his cock on your pussy. 

“Lift your leg for me, babe”, he says, palm sliding on the underside of your thigh as he feels you spread your legs open for him once more. 

Yunho rubs his cockhead along your wet fucking folds, before he pushes himself in, a whimper leaving his lips as he bites on your shoulder to stop any loud noises from slipping past his lips. 

He pushes himself in even more, and your arms are around his neck once more, light red imprints from your fingernails dig into his skin.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Feels like fucking heaven. So fucking tight and soft”, he mutters, eyes so glazed, and arms so tight around you when he finally buries himself into the hilt. 

Your mind is complete mush by then—combined with Yunho’s cock that’s stuffed in you and the scent of his hair wash, you swear you were gonna cum for the second time. You knew he probably packed something, but holy fucking shit, you just never thought it would fill you up this fucking good. The rest of your senses slowly start to dull, the feeling of Yunho’s cock almost taking them  all away. 

“Shit. You’re fucking squeezing me-fuck!-here,” Yunho says, but it comes off as a broken moan. His head is buried into the crook of your neck, and you hear him trying to steady his breath through a slew of curses. 

“You wanna move now?” You ask, your fingers combing through his messy locks. Yunho thinks he might have some sort of hair combing fetish with you now. 

“Fuck, yes, please,” is all he replies before he pulls out slightly, then thrusting right back in, projecting fucking stars into your eyelids when he fills you up again and again. 

You press your head against the pillow, eyes shut from the pleasure. When you find the strength to open them, Yunho’s glazed out expression is what comes into view. He’s looking at you like you’re his fucking treasure. 

“Does it feel good? You feel so fucking amazing, y/n.”

“You can’t be asking me that when you’re fucking the thoughts right out of me”, and you squeal when he thrusts into you once more, filling you up to the brim.

“Even better. So my cock will be only the cock you know, right?” He smiles, fighting the urge to roll his eyes when your walls clench around him again.

And when you don’t answer, his hand slithers to your neck, and he squeezes, making you gasp. 

“Answer me, pretty.”

“Yes, fuck yes. Don’t need anyone else’s when you’re fucking me so good”, you cry, relishing in the way he’s gradually cutting off your oxygen supply. 

His thrusts grow harder and faster, his hands slowly letting go of your throat.

“That’s my good girl.”

And that makes your cunt flutter and pulsate uncontrollably for the second time, only now it’s on his cock this time. 

“F-fuck. Oh, that’s it. That’s a good fucking girl, cumming all over my cock like that”, his voice ups a pitch when you fall apart again. “I’m gonna cum. Make sure you’re full and dripping when I’m fucking done with you.”

And when he does, he leaves a whole garden of bites on your chest and shoulders on top of filling your pussy up with his thick and warm cum. You never thought his face would get anymore attractive, but when he cums? You could get addicted to pulling that expression out of him, that’s for sure. 

The both of you are panting as your highs wear off, hands still not off each other despite the shared warmth. He’s the first to let go, and you’re about to say something until he turns you around, and it’s then when his cock starts to harden in you. Your heart is beating rapidly again when his cock is filling you up once more, as it slowly displaces his cum that leaks past your sopping hole.

Your hand grabs onto his arm that’s snaking around your waist. 

“W-wait. We need to talk about my broth-“, and he hears you whimper when he pushes himself deeper into you, throbbing in you. The way he’s littering kisses down your neck is sending you into a spiral, and now you’re nothing but weak against him, and his fat cock.

“That can wait to tomorrow, babe. I promised that I’ll make sure you’re full and dripping once I’m fucking done with you right? Well, I’m not done fucking you yet.”

[neopuppy]

I’m Here To Save You (M)

pairing. alpha johnny x female omega reader

genre. traditional a/b/o AU, friends to lovers, mild angst, fluff, pwp, m/f, one shot

warnings. profanity, alpha/omega dynamics, mating ceremony, pack head Alpha Johnny, size difference, use of Alpha voice, dominant but soft Johnny. smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 15k

now playing. pied piper//bts

smut warnings. unprotected rough sex, public sex- with audience, biting, breeding, knotting, etc

a/n. I am aware of Johnny’s actual tattoos, in case it needs to be said. my apologies for the floof🫤😑

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

By now you’d wish to have gotten the hang of climbing up a tree.

Hissing between your teeth as you pick at splinters cutting through your palm, you lean back into a more comfortable position against a large branch just in time to catch a glimpse of the group of Alphas marching out of the village for a hunt. It’d be another week condemned to the stables cleaning horse shit if any of them were to find you this deep in the woods again. 

For the most part you’ve managed to sneak around unnoticed, only catching the attention of a few elders who realized you’d been missing most of the day as you passed by and smiled inconspicuously.

Sometimes you just need to be alone, get away from the pack’s rules and hierarchy, all the duties and mundane tasks implemented. Even if your motive to distance yourself these days has less to do with wanting to be alone and more with needing to get away from a certain somebody that can’t seem to leave you alone.

“You know,” a familiar voice cuts through the trees. Long legs and thick brown hair with golden bits emerging before you can see his face in the light. “The day my father finds you out here this far from the pack, I won’t have any way to protect your ass from the punishment you’ll undoubtedly face.”

“He hasn’t caught me.” You respond, sneering down at your friend arching his neck back with a hand over his eyes to shield the sun and squint up at you. 

“Yet.” He states, snapping his fingers toward you with his free hand. “Get down from there.”

“No.”

“It’s not safe!” He hisses, peering back over his shoulder to ensure the Alphas have made it past the clearing already. “For someone like you to be up there.”

“Someone like me?” You spit, ripping a small tree branch free to hurl at his face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean!”

He sighs, stepping back to dodge your weak attempt to hurt him. “Don’t make me come up there.”

“Go away.”

“No.” Setting his hands on his hips he motions toward the lake with his head. “Let’s go swimming, it’s a nice day and with the Alphas gone it’s pretty empty.”

“Don’t want to.” You sigh, leaning back on the thick part of the tree. 

“Please? I already lied to Jaehyun to get out of hanging out with him today.” Reaching for the satchel laid on his hip, he pulls out a bottle antiseptic. “Bet your hands are really beat from scaling this ancient tree too. Come on, don’t make me beg to hang out with my best friend.”

Jaehyun’s your best friend. You want to snap back at him, huffing and frowning as you pick at a small splinter. 

“The waters perfect right now..” 

“Beg.” You say, peering down with a smile.

He chuckles, head shaking, pressing his hands against the tree. “Yeah? Should I get on my knees and cry? Would that make you come down?”

“Perhaps..”

“I said—“ with gritted teeth he grips onto the trunk of the tree firmly and shakes, adding kicks in-between. “Get down from there!”

“Johnny!” He’s stronger than you’d think from his gangly appearance, at least able to shake your position enough to clutch onto a large branch and curse as more bits of wood cut through your palm. “Stop it!”

“Are you coming down?!”

“Fine! You stupid neanderthal!”

“Nice one.” Catching his breath he moves back enough to grant you space to come down, reaching for your waist once you’re close enough to the ground. “I seriously hate when you sneak off without telling anyone.”

“It’s not a big deal.” You heave out of breath, swatting his hands away. Johnny’s persistent, grabbing a hold of your wrists and spinning you around to face him. 

“‘No.” He mutters, tsking under his breath. “It’s a huge deal. Goddess look at your hands.” A frown takes over his features, kneeling down to empty his bag in search of tweezers. “I only carry these around because of you.”

“I’m fine.” You scoff, ignoring the sting shooting through your hands. “I’ll wash them out in the water.”

“And risk infection?” Standing back up, he grabs onto your wrist again, turning your palm to face him. “Have your mother blame me for allowing you to ruin your delicate soft skin?”

“And who’s to say I need your permission to do anything?” You scowl, attempting to free your hand from his grip that only tightens.

“You know she expects me to look out for you.” Ignoring your petulance, he raises your hand up to carefully dissect a splinter from your middle finger, gentle with each movement to not make this hurt more than it has to. “As future head Alpha I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” You snort sarcastically, rolling your eyes to avoid looking at the taller. “Pack Alpha this and that.”

“Right.” Johnny nods, dabbing a cloth drenched with antiseptic after each splinter removal. “This hatred towards Alphas, how exactly will that work and play out after I’ve presented?”

“Won’t matter.” You shrug, foregoing your struggle to allow him to bandage your palm up. 

“And why’s that?”

“My mother’s a Beta, my father’s an Alpha.” You say as if that’s enough of an answer.

Johnny’s gaze raises to yours, biting down on his lip. “Mmm.. right.” 

Squinting back at him, you shove his shoulder, nodding in the direction of the lake. “Let’s go before it gets too late.”

Too late, not referring to sundown but to the real reason you’ve journeyed out to the woods more and more these days. It’s around the corner, ready to rear its ugly head and ruin the one friendship you can always count on. Ruin the genuine care and love that’s formed between the two of you over the years.

“Loser has to clean out the pups dirty diaper can this week!” He shouts, running past you toward the lake.

“Johnny!” You whine, losing your breath to chase after him and grab onto the back of his shirt. “That’s not fair!”

“Hey!” He growls playfully, spinning around to grip around your waist as you tug on his collar and stretch the material out. “Let go!”

“You’re a cheater!” You hiss, aiming for his chest to punch lightly. “Be fair!” 

“Fine.” He laughs, releasing you to drop his satchel and tug his shirt off. “3 laps.” Pointing from one end of the lake to the other he motions between the two of you, knowing you can kick his ass at swimming anyday. “Me and you.”

“Deal.” Shoving down your hoodie and shorts, you barrel into his side and run past him to cannonball onto the water first. “Loser!”

“Hey!” Johnny jumps out of his shorts, pouncing in after you, arms paddling rapidly to race after you. “What’s fair about this!”

“Me winning!” 

You’re out of breath by the time you finish the last lap and bend over belly flat onto the rocks lining the lake. Johnny stops next to you shortly after, resting on his forearms as he mimics your position and swallows down air. 

“Hey, I’m getting better at this.” He says breathlessly, stomach sucking in and out. 

“Only because you’ve had an insane growth spurt..” you mumble, bracing your arms to shove out of the lake and move to the dry patch of grass nearby. 

He takes a few more minutes to bask in the sun, skin glistening with golden rays streaming across his back and shoulders. The hours spent outside during summer really brightened up his complexion, painting his hair with light brassy  streaks. It’s the same every year, as if the sun wants to be around him at all times, melting into his skin and soft brown eyes as he lifts his head and stretches.

“Yeah, dad measured me the other day.” He responds after a while, lifting his long torso to push up and out of the water and plop down by your side. “Grew another two inches..”

“Yeah, I can tell..” you mumble, looking away and rubbing at your arms. 

“So, why don’t we ever talk about it?” He says quietly, picking at shards of grass by his hip. “He thinks I’ll present soon, like.. really soon.”

Instead of opening the door to what a conversation like this can lead to, you shrug and roll your neck back to crack. “Let’s head back before it starts getting dark.”

Johnny lets out a tired sigh, teeth gritted as he stands up and follows after you, grabbing your elbow. “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

He’s silent for a moment, head tilted and analyzing your lack of expression before letting you go. “It could be years until we see eachot—“

“I don’t care, okay? Drop it.”

“How could you not care?!” He asks, eyes wild and bewildered. “Do you not care about me??”

“Of course I care about you!” You shout, tearing your arm away from him. “But this is inevitable, it’s your destiny!”

“And you?” He’s quick to cut you off, stepping closer. “What about you? Are you a part of that destiny? Because right now I really feel like you’re trying to push me away and forget my existence.”

If only it was that easy.

“There’s nothing more to be said Johnny.” 

His gaze lowers seemingly disappointed, softly nodding, biting his bottom lip before a tremble can pass through. “Can I say something?”

No. Please don’t. Don’t make this harder on me than it already is.

“Fine.”

“Take care of yourself, for my sake? And please, stay close to the pack. Try to have some guilt in your conscience that your best friend can’t get a proper night of sleep while worrying about you running into a feral rogue or breaking a leg out there without anyone to find you.”

“Can you tell my friend that I’m not helpless and can very well fend for myself?” You retort, turning and stomping away back to the trail leading toward your pack's land. 

Johnny huffs, shaking his head and gathering the clothes you both discarded, clutching your hoodie for a minute in thought. There’s barely a scent on it, a hint of your mother and father’s lingering, really nothing more than a light memory of the times he’s walked you back to your cabin. If not for the nice weather today he’d chase after you and tackle you down until you cover up, staggering behind instead to stuff your sweater up to his nose.

He shouldn’t, not even allowed to innocently scent you let alone do anything like this. His father would be so disappointed with him, always lecturing him about befriending a girl like you. Very stubborn and unruly, always disobeying the pack Omegas that only want what’s best for you.

But this could be his last chance to savor something from you for some time, because he’d never ask you to scent.. as if you’d ever let him. The smell left behind is barely enough to taste, most of the scent belonging to your Alpha father, smokey and musk. Relaxing against a tree trunk he sighs, clutching the material to his chest solemnly. As stubborn as you may be, he can’t help to think you’re hurting more than you’re willing to show. 

You’d always been resilient toward him, avoiding him even after the first encounter you’d ever had. 

The pack Alphas son that everyone admires and adores, all except you.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“Where’s Johnny?” You ask sheepishly, staggering nearby the head Alphas cabin too chicken to actually knock on the door for an answer. Things hadn’t ended on the best note yesterday, and typically by now your friend would have sought you out, probably dragged you to the canteen for a snack since you slept through breakfast again.

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun snickers, passing by with bags full of manure on his way to the stables. “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?” You ask, mildly panicked.

Jaehyun scoffs quietly, glancing around cautiously for head Alphas presence. “He presented.”

“What?!” 

“Shh!” He hisses, grabbing your arm to drag you along with him and out of the pack leaders' close proximity. “How could you not know?! Last night, head Omega had to stay with the elders because Johnny’s rut hit.”

“Rut.. meaning—he’s..”

“Oh come on.” Jaehyun rolls his eyes, flicking your chin.” “You always knew, don’t you remember the first time we met?”

Of course you remember.

When you’re five years old, you get dropped off at the learning center for the first time. It’s not much, depending on the amount of Omegas vs Alphas amongst your pack. No more than 30 pups ranging in elementary age running around screaming.

That’s when you meet Jaehyun of the Jung lineage. He’s the first boy to ever make fun of you. Stuck to share a desk with him based on the proximity of your last names. Jaehyun prods your cheek with the end of his pencil. Asking you why they’re so round, adding a jab by showing off the deep indents on his own. 

He follows you out to the field when the lead Omega instructor dismisses you for break. Skipping along your side boasting about how he’s already begun learning archery. 

“My dads one of the strongest Alphas the pack has!” He gloats. Drawing an arm back to shoot an invisible arrow toward the forest that surrounds your village. “Says I’ll be just like him someday, better even!”

Squinting at him, you nod, lacking the same enthusiasm he has. Opting to search for a toy to occupy your free time, you browse through the crates piled together outside. A yo-yo could be fun, once you untangle the string another pup had evidently left to be discarded.

“Hey!” Jaehyun smacks the toy out of your hold. Pouting like a petulant upset baby. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Why did you do that?” A taller boy interrupts the two of you. Bending down to grab the yo-yo that’s rolled away, hitting the toe of his sneaker. He lifts it up with a bit of inspection, beginning to unravel the string. 

“..oh..Johnny..” Jaehyun stammers. His once bratty tone falling into a hushed one lacking confidence. “I was just messing around.”

Johnny, as Jaehyun calls him, concentrates on straightening out the toys string. Winding it up with ease and gesturing for you to take it once he’s finished.

“Should be all good to use now.” He smiles brightly. Having to lean his neck down as he looks over your lost expression. With the corners of his lips dropping to a pronounced frown, he blares Jaehyun with a cold stare. “Don’t do that again okay? No future strong Alpha of our pack would behave in such a manner.”

Flitting you with a rushed look, he turns away. Meeting up with a few other pups who seemed closer to his age. Jaehyun grumbles at your side, crossing his arms over his chest. His small foot lifting to a stomp for added dramatics.

“Great, now he’s going to snitch on me to the Head Alpha. I wasn’t even doing anything bad!” Jaehyun cries out. Sucking on his bottom lip in thought. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Nodding quietly, you loop the yo-yo’s thread around your index finger. Having to tighten it from where Johnny had left it. 

Jaehyun continues to follow you around, quite talkative for a pup. Too talkative in comparison to you. Directing you to walk in any direction that wouldn’t bring you any closer to the boy that had clearly left him shook up. 

“Do you know him?” You wonder. Glancing to where Johnny spikes a volleyball high above a net setup. The opposition weakened by a powerful collision meeting his chest. 

“Pft, of course!” Jaehyun gawks, fitting you with widened eyes. “That’s Head Alpha’s firstborn son! You can’t be serious right? He’s most likely to lead our pack some day.”

The yo-yo zips up with speed, caught in your grip tightly, mewling over Jaehyun’s explanation. Cheers to your left pull you to catch sight of the pup who had helped you. Hoisted up off his feet by a group of others who cheered from a victorious outcome of whatever game they had been playing.

Johnny was destined to be an Alpha. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to hear the news that your best friend finally presented. If anything, you’re disappointed. You’d been too mean yesterday.. really for the last few weeks as if you could sense it coming. 

“Since he’s presented, I’m sure we’ll be going next.” Jaehyun interrupts your inner turmoil, rubbing his chin. “Can feel my Alpha ready to break free any minute now.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, typically it’s somewhat of a domino effect. One Alpha presents and suddenly a slew of Omegas appear.. which triggers our Alphas.” He explains as if you’re clueless.

“Not that. I mean, I’m not going anywhere. Except to help in the kitchens along with the rest of the Betas.” You say surely, waving an arm out. “Maybe I’ll end up in the farms, wherever I get assigned to.”

Jaehyun laughs amused, eyebrows raised high. “Sweetie, you’re about as Omega as they come.”

Instead of letting the same comment you’ve heard most of your life get to you, you shrug it off and glance back toward the head Alphas cabin. “Will I get to see him again?”

Jaehyun hums. “Probably in a few weeks, you know.. when they start to separate us.”

Knowing you’d left things in a somewhat awkward place with your friend really dragged your heart through the mud, making your way back to the lake you’d been at just the day before full of regret that you’d been cutting him off and spending less time together. Perhaps deep down inside you knew the feelings you continued to stomp down into nothing consisted of a culmination of fear and anger. Anger because you don’t want to lose him, fear of what the future holds in store for you once you have inevitably presented. Fear that you will end up stuck with the Omegas until adulthood. Anger that you can’t seek Johnny to comfort your worries anymore.

Jaehyun was right, as everyone has always been about you. The domino effect took its toll on the pack, triggering heats and ruts alike until yours hit in the middle of the night and consumed you with the worst pain you’ve ever felt. 

A pain of yearning and insatiable hunger, hunger that had one name written at the back of your tongue, attempting to swallow it down before your Omega could break free and shout his name out. Tears burned down your face as you fisted at your bedding and grinded your hips down, not even the strongest elixir of ancient herbs could quell your lust for the Alpha.

Johnny Johnny Johnny..

His name swirled through your mind, each memory and touch you ever shared, his hold on your waist and shoulders, the difference in size between you just this last year.

“Alpha..”

With 20 pack members presenting the council decided it’s time to move you onto your next step. 

You pleaded and cried in your mother’s arms begging for her to do something to stop this, to let you stay with her somehow, someway. Realistically no amount of tears could stop the assimilation you all must face. 

“It will be over before you know it my love.” She said sweetly, braiding your hair the night before you’re to move to the Omega quarters. 

Won’t be over soon enough, you think, keeping your thoughts to yourself the more your eyes puff up. Sleep would be hard to come by tonight, knowing tomorrow changes everything. The days of being a young careless pup with lack of responsibility change now, cursed by your damn Omegan genetic chemistry. Because whether you accepted it or not, the chances of a Beta mating anything other than a Beta rarely ever led to the same sub-gender offspring. Even your mother always hinted and skirted around the idea of you presenting as an Omega, never an Alpha with your delicate soft nature, no matter how hard headed you may be.

“At least you will get to see your friends once more tomorrow.” She said as she tucked you in and kisses your forehead. “I’m sure they’re eager to congratulate you on presenting.”

Friends.

The only friend she’s ever even seen you with being the pack Alphas son. She knew very well how odd your relationship is, being that you don’t even come from one of the stronger lineages. Perhaps her prayers to the moon goddess to grant her daughter a prosperous future had been answered. Time would tell..

Sunlight entered your room right as your eyes were ready to fall shut after failed attempts of counting sheep to shut your mind off. Nothing could stop your incessant fear from escalating knowing what a new day would bring.

“We don’t want to be late, princess. It’s time.” Your father chirped happily from your bedroom door, gathering the bag you’d be taking with you later today.

No, of course you wouldn’t want to be late to the induction ceremony. Even with a stomach full of nerves as you made your way to the divided trails leading to sectioned off lands for Alphas and Omegas you tried to calm yourself, take deep breaths, fiddle with your hands until you had no choice but to ball them up in tight fists.

“My baby’s grown so much.” Your mother cuts the unbearable loud silence pounding in your head, smoothing loose tendrils away from your face. “You’ll surely make us proud in there, receive many merits and accolades from the elder Omegas.”

“I’ll do my best.” You say solemnly, leaning your cheek into her palm one last time. “I’ll miss you both so much.”

“Soon soon, angel. Everything will go by so fast, you’ll be back in no time.”

The ceremony to send you off lasted no longer than a few minutes after all goodbyes were said, staggering behind before making your way to catch up with the rest of the newly presented Omegas. You slowly turn to look over your shoulder, breath lodged in your throat when you find his gaze already on you. 

“Johnny?” You mouth hopefully. He stands straight, stepping to the side of his group until you’re close enough to take in how much more he’s filled out in mere days. The once gangly long limbs now protrude with muscle, shoulders grown in width, and jawline sharpened with definition as baby fat disappears.  

“Johnny.” You whisper, reaching a hand out for your best friend, now Alpha, to take a hold of. He visibly swallows, a tormented expression streaking across his face as he looks you over.

“I can’t.” He whispers back, blinking furiously. Tugging the straps of his bag on his shoulders tighter. “I can’t..”

He nods swiftly, turning his face away from you with a stiff twist of his neck to keep himself staring ahead. Pain scorches up your gut, burning the pathway leading to your heart as your hand falls limp by your hip and you sniffle back the onslaught of tears already rushing to the backs of your eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” He barely whispers before turning down the opposite path, leaving you with the last memory you’d hold onto for the next 5 years to come.

One last look caught yours before disappearing behind the fence meant to keep new Alpha and Omega apart.

Time. Only more time can make any difference now.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“I can’t wait until we integrate with the rest of the pack.”

“I can.” You say quietly, keeping your head low to not draw the attention of the lead Omegas walking around observing how well you’ve all begun to take on your roles. “I don’t dream of being mated.”

“Ah, well.” Minnie, the bubbly Omega you’ve come to know in your last year by no choice of your own smiles softly, tilting her head dreamily. “I can’t wait to be with my first pup, and finally know my mate. It’s all I can think about.”

Of course it is, you want to say, lowly humming and continuing to brush out the furs dropped off today. They carried all types of scents from the elders, council members, even faint traces of betas. Alpha furs are only to remain within the village grounds, nowhere near unmated Omegas. 

“You really have no desire to mate?” Minnie continues to pester you, smile turning mischievous. “I bet I can change your mind.”

She seems more than up to no good judging by the way her lips tweak to one side before bouncing up onto the balls of her feet, pointing this and that way while hurriedly explaining something to one of the elder Omegas.

“Fine fine Minnie, take that one with you and be back on time to help in the kitchen.” She motions your way, cutting off the younger Omega before she talks her ear off.

She skips on her way back to you, bundling up a few of the furs you’ve been cleaning. “Told her we need to deep clean these to get the smell out.” 

“They don’t sme—“

“Shh!” She rushes, grabbing a hold of your arm to hoist you up and drag you away from the group of Omegas working hard to brush out knots and stains. “You have to be quiet about this okay? I’ll get into so much trouble if the word about this gets back to the council.”

“What are you going on about?!” You grit, failing to shake her arms off. Leaving you with no choice but to follow along as she leads you past the riverbank. 

“I’m telling you, there’s something special a few of the Omegas showed me a while ago.” She says excitedly, teeth on full display as she peers over her shoulder to ensure no one’s nearby. “Over here, these fences behind the leaders cabin.”

“We’re not supposed to go this far..” you say hesitantly, digging your heels into the dirt path to slow her down.

“It’s not prohibited.. but they haven’t renovated these parts in decades..” she explains, using extra strength to make you turn down the short hill that covers most of the fence. “They really should too.”

“Why? Doesn’t it just lead to the village?”

“Well, no..” he trails off, biting down on her lip deviously. “You have to promise not to say anything, alright?”

Sighing, you shrug and wrap around her pinky, unsure of what could possibly be so secretive about this area. She nods, pressing a finger to her lips as you step up to the area covered by old tree branches. “Don’t be loud.”

Releasing your arm, she reaches to move a few branches aside and motions for you to come closer. There behind the mess of greenery are two holes on the old tall wooden fence. You stop for a moment to glance back at her, nodding with her lips pursed for you to look through.

Nothing could have prepared you for what actually resides on the other side of the fence. More water that you didn’t know existed, the rest of the river that’s been cut off by this man-made fence constructed decades ago when the pack struggled to keep Alphas and Omegas consistently equal in numbers. The council decided it best to separate freshly presented pups into individual camps until they experienced their first heat or rut. Segregating the two sub-genders to manage future matings with annual runs. Their plan had been successful after balancing the scale, allowing for their pack to grow healthy and plentiful.

It’s been years since you’ve last seen an Alpha.. until now.

“Is..” you stutter, blinking rapidly. “Is that..”

“The Alphas.” She whispers near your ear, lightly tapping a fingertip against the fence. “They swim and clean off at this stream after their hunts, seems to be only the ones that are soon on their way out of the camp..”

Alphas, playfully shooting water at each other, laughing and rough housing after a morning hunt. They have baskets full of fish lined up near their weapons on the path, a few of them deeper in the water scrubbing their arms and chest clean with cloths. 

“Our future mates could be here right now.” She beams, pushing her cheek against yours to steal a look. “Oh Goddess, it’s him..” 

“Who?”

“Head Alphas son..” she murmurs off, eyes going lazy as she rests against your head for you to both get a look

Head Alphas son? But that would be..

How could you have not immediately noticed him, trudging out from the shallow end of the stream glistening under the daylight sun, shaking off the water cascading from his broad frame the closer he reaches toward the end.

It’s him, it has to be him. 10 inches taller than you remember, hair longer and framed around his much sharper and pronounced bone structure. The baby fat on his cheeks long gone, body built up from years of hunting. The pressure of having to be the strongest and most reputable Alpha evident in his intimidating stance alone.

“Johnny.” The name passes from your lips without realizing, widening Minnie’s eyes as she turns to look at you.

“You know him?”

Know him? He was the last member of your pack that you had contact with before joining the rest of the newly presented Omegas. Even sharing goodbyes with your own family before him. You knew he’d be an Alpha eventually, but you’d never considered how painful it would be to lose your best friend to the otherside. 

The reality always loomed though. The pack Alphas first born son could never present as a Beta, Goddess forbid as an Omega. 

“No.” You reply, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away. “We shouldn’t be here, it’s against pack law to be in contact with Alphas while unmated.”

“We aren’t contacting them, not really..” she smirks coyly, trapping your arm once more. “Just a little longer? They’ll be on their way eat soon.”

You shouldn’t, should stand your ground and put your foot down against this condemnable behavior.

But one more look can’t hurt much.

One more look just to be certain that it’s him, that it’s really your Johnny.

He’s changed so so much, nearly unrecognizable if you weren’t sure of his residency on the other side of this fence. 

“He’s incredibly handsome, don’t you think?” Minnie disrupts the one on one conversation happening with yourself, looping an arm around your waist to bring you both closer to the holes. “Can you believe we’ll be in the same mating hunt as our next head Alpha?”

“What??” You practically shriek, covering your mouth and pulling away. 

She looks at you half amused, in awe of your clueless nature. “It’s been five years silly, the elders have been discussing lowering our time inside these lands to ensure a strong Winter. The moon goddess predicts we will need many healthy pups due to the severity of climate change that’s recently taken place.”

“How do you know all of this?!”

She sighs, wagging a finger in your face. “You never pay attention during the morning lecture. They say we could be out of here as soon as the next red moon! That’s only a few weeks from now.”

A few WEEKS?! 

“Judging by the look of these Alphas..” she hums flirtatiously, turning back to peep through the fence and suck a long breath in. “They’re certainly ready to hunt, and I’m ready to be chased.”

“The mating hunt, is it guaranteed that all who participate will be mated?” You ask full of worry, dragging fingers through your hair. 

“Of course, that’s the point of all this!” She says, clicking her tongue. “If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you were born yesterday.”

Stealing one more look, she sighs and bites her lip excitedly. “I’m so ready to be out of here.” Turning back to you she grabs your arm. “Let's get back before the elders catch on to us missing. Besides, we’ll be with our Alphas in no time.”

In no time. Too soon. 

And as if to mock your worry the days tick by faster and faster, now very alert during your usual extra nap time in the morning. You listen to every word, biting at your nails by the third week as the elders rejoice that the forecast had been correct and the blood red moon will indeed rise in the next few days. 

“Soon you will birth strong and powerful members to contribute to the pack.” They preached and flounced about full of excite. “Tomorrow we will introduce you back to the pack to prepare for the hunt. Not a hair or patch of dry skin shall appear on you! You must impress your potential Alpha suitors to desire and want to chase you.”

More thrilled than you could ever be about this, they began to distribute scent blockers around the hall. Instructing you all begin using them tonight to ensure no Alpha can trail you off scent. It has to be instinct and intuition to find your true mate.

Once you have presented, every pack Omega is expected to participate in the annual mating ceremony. Ensuring the packs healthy growth to avoid a desolate village.

Your biggest dread of presenting as an Omega subsided as you met your predator's gaze. Stalking around you with snapping teeth and no escape. 

There was no way to predict the Alpha determined to mate you would end up being your best friend.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, sneaking a watery look at your mother. The reunion with your parents had been too fast, not enough time to plead your case and beg for them to find you another option. She smiles stiffly at you, securing the braids she put your hair in with ribbons.

“Sweety..” she says between clenched teeth, blinking furiously. “Do not embarrass us. It’s an honor that you’ve been summoned to participate in the mating hunt.”

An honor? Giving up your freedom and shred of independence you can barely cling onto for an Alpha? An Alpha that will breed and claim you like nothing more than a whore?

“What’s honorable about this, mother?”

She sighs, painting your cheeks with thin stripes of oil to illuminate your skin and make you more desirable for your possible mate. “I only wish I’d been given the chance you have to strengthen the pack. Omegas are the backbone of our livelihood, without you we’d go extinct faster than animals.”

Popping her mouth for you to mimic she applies a smudge of red tint to your lips, standing proudly after to take in your full appearance. “Without a scent to trail, the Alphas will really have to focus on using their other senses.. and you look ethereal. Always knew you’d grow up to be one of the prettiest in our pack, even if I worried about all those scars you’d come home with all the time.”

“What if I refuse?” You ask wearily, glancing around at the other Omegas being prepped for the hunt.

“You’ll be exiled.” Your mom says sternly, tight lipped as she grips your shoulders to look at her. “Think about your father and I, please. We barely got you back.”

A mixture of guilt and rancid vomit combines in your stomach the longer you stand around and wait for the Alphas to show up. The elders have been greeting each other, smugly smiling as if they’ve accomplished something by forcing young Omegas to hand over their lives and become breeding machines. They gather around and announce the next generation of Alphas to lead the pack. You can’t see their entrance from where you stay hidden with the rest of the Omegas participating, not allowed to see any of your potential mates. Only able to swallow down the throw up that rises up your throat as cheers and roars pound through the earth beneath your feet. Alphas praised for merely existing, for being the breadwinners of the pack that ensure longevity and protection. 

Omegas are the real backbone, as your mother said, whether she meant it or simply wanted to shut you up and finish dolling you for essentially a stranger to ship off with. 

“This is so thrilling.” Minnie pops up next to you, her lips a deep cherry, cheeks stung with the residue to make her skin glow. She looks radiant, lovely as ever, so ready to show off a bite on her beautiful long neck. “I want to be caught already.”

Nothing could compel you to agree, silently nodding to resist the incessant urge to gag. Judging by the giggles and squeals surrounding you, no one seems to share your sentiment. Why would they after years of being brainwashed to want this.

She takes your hand, squeezing and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “May the moon goddess bring you the best Alpha.”

“You too, Min..”

A whistle blows signaling you to line up and ready yourselves to run, everyone scrambles around excitedly, leaving you at the forefront as the elders explain the ‘rules’ again.

“You are not to ever remove your scent blockers, you are to hide once the Alphas begin their hunt. You are forbidden to leave the pack lands, and if you are not claimed you shall immediately report back to the Omega sector until the next red moon. Claimed Omegas are to come back with their Alpha mated. Only once paired off may you re-enter the pack.”

It’s due or die, whether or not you avoid an Alphas claim you’ll never be free from this restrictive life..

The second the horn sets off you run, feet pounding to the earth without a second thought. Heavy breathing and laughter fades away behind you, distancing yourself further and further away from where most of the Omegas will choose to hide, you imagine. The same trees you used to wander through catch your attention out ahead, furiously quickening your pace at the sound of another horn signaling that the Alphas are on the move.

The same forest you spent days hiding inside of is just right outside of your lands, against the rules, but you need to wait it out long enough. Once enough time has passed and the Alphas make their claims you can move back to your packs territory. No one has to know.

Not even the splinters clawing through the skin of your palms can slow you down, hoisting yourself up the largest tree you can find until you manage to get up high and let out a sigh of relief. The pounding in your heart refuses to settle even so, hissing as you wipe your hands off on your tunic and try to adjust your weight onto a thick branch. Even at this proximity you can hear howls and cries, sounds of pleasure ripping through the tears as Omegas go down, claimed and gnawed at by rabid Alphas. 

Time goes by slowly as you sit still and listen, sucking at your wounded hands to ease the sting left behind. It’s nothing compared to the mix of pain swarming between moans. Deep guttural Alpha wails break through the dusk, shifting and breaking bones as they take their conquests and solidify their claim with a knot.

Only a few more hours until it dies down, you hope.. peering up at the clouds that dance around the red moon. Orange light sprays across the ground, illuminating clear paths for predator eyes to seek their prey. They’d never be able to find you up here, unless..

A loud huff snaps your neck toward the entrance of the forest, cracking tree branches and kicking rocks as the sound grows near.

Large, terrifyingly large, medium brown soft with light hints of gold, and eyes you’d recognize even if you suffered from amnesia. Those sharp sleek eyes that you’d never be able to forget no matter how much you try. Why would he come out here? Why did he have to come out here.

There’s only one reason. Snarling and puffing large breaths of air as he slowly paws through and approaches the largest tree, listening attentively for any movement. Sitting back on his hind legs, his gaze lands on you without sparing a second, squinting past the leaves you’ve shrouded yourself with. He barks, baring his teeth as trickles of saliva drip down his jowls.

Get down from there.

“Go away!” You hiss, grabbing onto a tree branch firmly as he nears and clambers up, scratching his claws along the trunk.

It’s been years and you still insist on giving me the biggest headache.

“I said go away Johnny!” 

Get down. Immediately. Don’t make me climb up there.

“I’m not coming down! Now get away before another Alpha follows your trail and figures out that I’m hiding out here.” You grunt, fearfully looking out as another large wolf approaches.

You need to come down. Right now.

“You’re leading him right to me.” You whine, moving up another branch to hide yourself from the Alpha passing between the trees.

Johnny’s teeth snap, biting at the air as an Alpha with dark fur growls at him, leaping up on his hind legs he stands tall above him, shouting at the new presence to get lost.

This one's mine.

The dark furred Alpha hesitates for a bit, egging the lighter to get his nose in his face, snout digging into the others until he whimpers and backs away, slowly making his exit from the woods.

An enormous sense of relief lightens the tension weighing down your shoulders, leaning back on the tree until a sudden huge ruckus shoots you to sit up urgently. 

The Alpha down below backs up and rams into the trunk repeatedly, growling and smashing his dome forward until you’re shouting.

“Johnny! Stop! Stop!” 

GET DOWN. RIGHT NOW!

His Alpha sounds vicious, ripping through your mind, causing your Omega to cower and frightfully shiver. Biting down on your lip to contain a whimper, you nod and gingerly set your foot down to make your way down the tree. 

“Please, don’t tell head Alpha about this.. he’ll have me condemned..” you plead, keeping your gaze to the floor to not have to look your old friend in the eye. Shame, embarrassment and fear runs rampant throughout your system, lighting goosebumps up your flesh. 

No one is touching my mate.

“What?!” You nearly lunge back, falling down onto your ass as you crawl away without taking your eyes off of him. “Johnny! It’s me! You’re mistaken—“

Quiet. Omega. 

Slowly trudging closer to you, he stops to sit. Stance big and strong towering above you.

Present.

“Johnny, I can’t do tha—“ 

The growl he lets out cracks a whimper from your throat, rustling the leaves throughout each surrounding tree, echoing loud enough for even birds to flock away out of fear.

“You don’t want this, not with me, remember me?” It seems futile to attempt conversation with an Alpha in wolf form, feeling defenseless and defeated as your back knocks against a rock and the Alpha leaves you with nowhere to run. 

Present for your Alpha. I won’t ask again.

“I-I can’t, don’t ask that of me.” Bile rises up your chest, digging your fingers through clumps of dirt as the large wolf nuzzles your face and takes a deep inhale. “This is a mistake, has to be a mistake..”

Lights blind your vision, collapsing on the ground when his scent slams into you. A husk leather oud infiltrates your senses, strong and rich, immediately swirling between each crevice until your chest caves. The Alphas scent is the strongest you’ve ever felt, dominant, enrapturing, near drug-inducing. The scent of a powerful Alpha, more powerful than you’ve ever experienced. Too much for your secluded body and mind to handle atop of the raging fear beating from your chest.

The Alpha nudges your limp figure a few times, softly huffing and licking up your cheek. There’s no point in waiting it out, already gone for hours since the hunt began, he shifts back and hoists your lifeless body onto his arms, carrying you out of the woods with ease. The walk back to your lands can take about another hour, knowing his father will undoubtedly be waiting for his return with a proud smile as his son triumphantly strides back through with his future head Omega intact.

Exactly as he imagined it, his father stands tall and full of pride, the smile on his lips slowly sinking as he sees no sign of a mating mark. Confusion flows between the two Alphas as he comes to a stop and adjusts your limp weight in his arms. 

“What is this son? Have you not mated?” He asks sternly, leaning in closer to inspect your naked throat.

“The Omega, she fainted before I could consummate..”

“Ah, I see. Drop her off at the infirmary and continue on your way back out. Many Alphas have already returned with their claimed mates. You need to be swift and hurry now.”

“This is my mate, father.” Johnny states loud and clear, cradling you closer to his chest. “She is the one my wolf has chosen.”

Clarity evades the head alphas features, scowling as he steps forward to whisper. “You dare to bring disgrace upon my name with this unmated weak Omega? What have I taught you?”

“No father, I do not wish to bring shame upon our lineage.”

The head Alpha snaps his fingers, ushering his main henchmen to cover up their surroundings. “Get the Omega back to your cabin. Do not bring her back without your markings.” He orders, rushing two of the elders to cut around the village to his son’s cabin. “I will not have you humiliate my name with your choice.”

Johnny nods without protest, following along with the elders that obscure your bodies behind veiled cloaks. At least in his cabin he can help you get proper rest and keep an eye on you. 

“Get her inside.” One of the elders says in a hushed voice, covering the entrance to his cabin. “Listen to me my boy, if that Omega exits your sights without a mark, I don’t want to jump to conclusions of what your father may pull, but it won’t be pleasant.”

He nods assuredly, thanking the older Alpha for helping him before leading you to his furs to lay upon. At least this way you can become accustomed to his scent, enough to keep you stable even if it overwhelms you. He should have anticipated that you’d be difficult to deal with even now after all of this time apart. You’ve grown a lot, as has he, but clearly your disdain towards Alphas hasn’t changed much.

He wonders for a moment if he should have just walked away when Jaehyun showed up with intent to mate you. The thought alone makes his Alpha scream at the top of its lungs, clenching his fist and shaking his head to calm the rage building inside of him.

Anyone else mating you has never been an option, because Johnny always knew it had to be him. He always knew that it had to be you. 

‘That sweaters a bit tight for you, don’t you think?’ His friend jeered, poking at the faded cotton material stretched over his much larger body.

Johnny ignored him, waving Jaehyun off before heading to the river to wash off, making a stop by the bathrooms nearby first. He’s kept your oversized sweater stuffed at the very bottom of his bag as he marched into the newly presented Alpha sector of your packs lands, heart beating from his chest as he stole one last look back and found your gaze peering over your shoulder practically begging to be saved.

He’d dreamt about it for years, what your scent would smell of, how you’d grow to be the most beautiful Omega, strong and regal by his side. Perfect to lead a pack by him in time. 

In time you will see, even if you don’t have much left to spare.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

Air thick as molasses glides down your tongue, struggling to swallow as you sit up and break out into a fit of coughs. Everything’s too warm, incinerating you from inside out with each breath you take in. Grasping around yourself you find a wall behind you, choking on your next breath right as the Alpha enters and rushes over to you.

“Here, drink this.” He sits down fast, raising a cup of cooled tea to your lips, tipping it for you to drink from. The sensation of calming herbs flows through your chest, filling your senses from nose to taste, opening up your air passages to breath with ease. “Drink all of it.”

“What is that??” You cough, wiping at your lips and pushing the mug away.

“You fainted, healer Ryu said it can happen when Omegas aren’t accustomed to the scent of Alpha..” tilting his head to the side, he taps at a scent blocker stuck to his neck. “This should help, you’re in my cabin thought, my scent is pretty much everywhere..”

“What am I doing here?” You try to say clearly, choking on the spit lining your throat that's thickened up. “W-why did you bring me here?”

Johnny’s gaze darkens, dragging down your even toned neck, the expanse of your smooth delicate shoulders and your bare arms. “Because.” He stiffens, glaring at your throat. “I want you to be awake when I mate you.”

“Mate me?!?” Shooting up straight, you clutch the furs on top of your body tightly, half questioning if he undressed you to get you under here in the first place..

Sitting up, he nods and reaches to move your hair back causing you to flinch as his knuckles drag down your cheek. “Do you not remember me?”

He seems hesitant to ask, lips tugged down at the sides, grazing past your scent gland still masked by blockers. 

“Of course I remember you!” Glowering, you grab his wrist and dig your fingernails in. “Now answer me! What am I doing here?!”

The sensation of your stubby nails clawing at his flesh has no effect, shrugging you away as he comes to stand and paces in front of the bed you sit on. “Did you hit your pretty little head falling down from one of those trees while trying to hide?” He asks in a snarky manner, placing hands on his hips to widen his size. “How many times are you expecting me to repeat myself?”

“You know I never fall.”

Johnny rights himself, standing tall above you. “And I know where you’d go to hide from a gang of Alphas seeking their prey.”

“You cheated.” 

“I found you fairly, just in time too. Jaehyun was trailing my ass knowing I’d be looking for you. You’re lucky he knows better than to go up against me.”

Jaehyun. The other Alpha that Johnny had scared away.

“It’s not fair.. you left our territory—“

“And you should be grateful that I did.” He lunges toward you, slamming his fists down on the bed. “If anyone else had found you breaking the rules like that I’d never be able to save your ass.”

“I don’t need to be saved, especially not thanks to an Alpha.” You spit, cowering back against a wall.

“Watch your tongue little one. We aren’t pups anymore.”

Hard knocks shake through the cabin, pursuing your lips together to stop an insult from dicing its way through the Alphas flesh. Moving away, he peers back over his shoulder, motioning your way. “Don’t move, Omega.”

He disappears behind the door shutting, springing to your feet to scamper your way over when you hear deep voices murmur through.

“Have you done it?” You can recognize head Alphas domineering tone, judging from the way Johnny replies alone. He sounds immature, young and still innocent but still respectful.

“Not yet father.” He’s quiet, probably keeping his head down, too much shame to look his dad in the eye.

“I never expected this from you son.” Head Alpha sounds disappointed, drawing out a long sigh. “All of this over some Omega.”

“She’s more than that.”

“I do not care.” Shutting down his son quickly, head Alpha takes heavy steps, most likely pushing his chest out to instill intimidation. 

“If you do not mate her by the end of today, I have no choice son. I will not allow your obsession with this inadequate Omega to tarnish the reputation I have helped you build. No one wants to follow orders from an Alpha that cannot even control his Omega. You will do what I see fit or I shall summon the council to order a public mating.” Head Alpha spits each word out like shards of glass, gashing through even your flesh from where you listen through the door. The thought of Johnny on the other side trying to keep up a strong facade pings through your chest, willing it away with your arms tightening around yourself.

He must be stoic, emotionless to his father’s rage, because he doesn’t reply, nothing but the sound of footsteps follow for the next few minutes. 

Stepping back inside abruptly, he catches you off guard, leaping away from the door and rushing to hide your tear-filled eyes. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t stay in place.”

“You know me.” You mutter sarcastically, lips tugging down at the sides. “Public mating?”

Johnny sighs, starting to pace and run his hands through his long locks. “I assume you heard everything.”

“What was head Alpha talking about? Is he going to have me exiled?”

He scoffs, glaring at you from the corner of his eye. “As if I’d ever allow that.”

“You’d have to, you can’t go against your father.”

“I can’t?” Lifting a defined eyebrow at you, he steps forward to get in your face, neck craning lower. “What do you not understand? You are my mate. I would go against anyone for you, even my own damn blood.”

“I don’t understand, okay?!” You shout, frustrated, taking a step back nervously. 

“I’ve always known.” Johnny cuts you off, following you with long strides until your back meets a wall. “You have too.”

“No.. Johnny..” 

“Alpha.”

“No!” Lifting your hands, you press flat against his chest to put distance between your bodies. Useless as he doesn’t so much as budge, reaching for your waist as he bends in closer until his lips hover an inch away from yours.

“This stubborn act was endearing when we were kids, you know.” He laments, laughing under his breath. “It was cute and I may do whatever it takes to make you mine, but you will respect me as your mate.”

His tone lowers, near a rumble that has your Omega howling in pain, every signal warning for you to behave. “You’re not my mate.”

He snaps fast, growling deep in his chest, palms slamming down on the wall behind your head. “Do not disobey me.”

The Alphas voice cuts deep, rolling tremors down your limbs until your knees give and buckle, dropping your face between his chest as a pathetic whimper springs from your lips. You crumble at the fury, the Omega inside of you curling up into a ball in shame. How could you anger our mate enough to make him use his Alpha voice? It’s your fault, unleashing an onslaught of pain throughout your body the more you cower against him.

An exhausted sigh blows across the side of your face, standing up straight with arms wrapped around your waist he holds you close, nose dropping to your hair to take in a long inhale. “I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what overcame me just now..”

“I hate you.” You cry between chattering teeth, weakly hitting his chest. “How could you do that to me?”

“No you don’t.” Johnny’s eyes fall shut, dragging his nose against your crown. “I need you to listen to me. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated and stressed over what my father said..”

Sniffling, you ease against him, looping an arm around his waist to regain your balance, and maybe comfort the emotionally wounded Omega whimpering inside of you to fix this. “Public mating?”

“Yes..” he hesitates for a minute, rubbing a soothing large hand up and down your back before pulling away to cup your face.”If the council agrees, I will be summoned to claim you before the pack Alphas..”

“What??”

Pursing his lips, he looks away, forehead wrinkling. “As their next head Alpha, I cannot risk dishonoring tradition..”

“What’s traditional about this?!” You speak up, pushing away again only to be kept in place by strong built arms. 

“It’s not up to me anymore.”

“Then let me leave!” Hissing, you strike a balled up fist against his chest, lip trembling to contain your tears. “Johnny, please!”

“I can’t.” He says firmly, taking a hold of your shoulders to keep you still against the wall. “Tomorrow I will mate you, and if you try to run, I will never stop chasing after you.”

Silence falls between the two of you as he keeps you stuck in place with a look full of hunger. Eyes dancing between desire and passion. It’s enough to bite your tongue and hold back the whiplash of words your mind fights against your heart to shout at him. 

“There’s no other way?” You ask brokenly, throat exhausted as if your Omega used your vocal chords to scream her murderous tears. 

Shaking his head slowly, he leans in and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. “There is no other way.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

There is no other way.

Because this is the only way to prove to the pack that you belong to Johnny. That the Alpha has truly thoroughly fucked and claimed you, that no one will ever question his position to lead this pack.

The council wastes no time on discourse, immediately proclaiming that a mating ritual shall take place today, and that the Omega set to be the next head by pack Alphas side will have a mark on her neck by the end of this day.

“Here I thought the hunt would be the highest honor, you’re lucky the council has been lenient enough to allow this.” Your mother’s fixing up your face once again, unable to remove the giant dumb smile from her face as she moves to brush your hair. “Ah, the moon goddess truly heard my wishes. Head Alphas son of all Alphas! What a blessing.”

Every single member of the pack seemed to question how and why you were chosen. Walking through the village to your parents cabin drew more attention to you than you’d ever experienced. Whispers floated through the air, backing the rumors that you couldn’t even handle the next head Alpha, that you’d passed out before he’d even had the chance to mate you.

‘Doesn’t make any sense why he’d even bother with her after that.’

‘Heard one of the Alphas over breakfast mention that they were close as pups. Head Alphas son probably imprinted on her years ago, none of us ever stood a chance against that type of bond.’

‘Seems unfair if you ask me, she’s not even grateful.’

They spoke so foul of you without knowing anything about you. To even dare question the innocent relationship you once had with Johnny. The friendship that you cherished and would sell your soul to have back. Everything’s different now, he’s different.

“I’m already dreaming of the pups you’ll have.” Your mother sighs happily, fluffing your hair to frame your face. “Johnny’s so handsome and strong, with his genes you will birth only strong pups.”

Pups.

Birth.

With Johnny.

Fear heightens in your stomach similar to a ticking time bomb, sensing your imminent doom as the elders come to escort you to the Alphas sector where the ritual will take place. They wear pleased smiles, cheerful as they drag you along and bring you to what can only come straight out of nightmares.

Alphas stagger around, eyeing you curiously as you’re brought to stand in the middle where a large lifted platform covered with cushions and furs has been set up. It’s worse than the hunt, multiple predatory eyes burn into your skin, gathering closer to get a good look at the flimsy garment doing a poor job of hiding your ample curves. Growls and grunts fly around you, trapping you with nowhere to go as they circle around and barricade you, shortening your breath the more imprisoned you begin to feel.

“J-Johnny?” You ask hesitantly, gaze stuck to your feet, too anxious at the thought of meeting eyes with any of the unknown Alphas around.

“I’m here.” A soft tone ripples up your spine, standing straight and pulling your shoulders back as he takes a hold of your elbow and turns you to face him. “Look at me.”

Slowly lifting your head up you see him, warm eyes and a soft smile intended to comfort you. He stands before you, moving in closer to wrap around your waist. “You’re nervous.”

Sniffling, you nod, embarrassed that every Alpha in the pack you’re meant to lead side by side with the one currently holding you tight will see you defiled for the very first time in mere minutes. “It’s just you and me right now, got that? Don’t even think about anything else. No one else exists, only us.” 

As much as you wish to believe that to be true, your ears can’t tune out the whistles and jeers coming from every side, biting on your lip and shaking your head, you reach for the Alphas shoulders to hide your face in his chest. “Can’t.. they’re everywhere.”

“I said look at me Omega.” He speaks more sternly, not moving to force you, but waiting for your head to raise and return to his still lovingly warm gaze. “You will not take your eyes off of me, do you hear me? You’re mine, you are only to look at me.”

Without using his Alpha voice he still manages to make your chest tighten, stomach churning anxiously as you nod slowly and he bends closer until your foreheads are pressed together. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

A part of you wants to scream, consider running only to be tackled down by a militia of powerful Alphas, but the other part of you swoons, reminded of the days you craved nothing more than to be by Johnny’s side and ripped your own heart to pieces once you realized the inevitable fate you’d been dealt.

“…for how long, Alpha?” You ask, barely above a whisper, fluttering his eyes in surprise.

“Forever.” He whispers, nose brushing against yours. “I’d wait an eternity for you.”

“You’ll take care of me Alpha?” You question cautiously, lips barely grazing his plump pout. “Make me yours to protect?”

“Always have.” Johnny states, licking your upper lip with closed eyes. He blinks slowly, reaching to cup your cheeks and dip his mouth to yours. “And I always will.”

It may not be ideal nor how you ever allowed yourself to imagine, but as the Alphas lips meld to yours, the tension weighing on your back dissipates. Easing into his dominant touch, you fall into the kiss easily. Every worry and silent wishful hope lets out a sigh of relief throughout your body, dragging your arms up higher to cling around his neck and deepen the kiss.

This time your lips planted together unlocks what you never knew you needed. The Omega inside of you quells instantaneously, rolling around with what can only he a giant smile now that your Alpha finally seems satisfied. The two of you rejoice, drawing him in deeper to grant your tongue access inside the delicious cavern of his mouth. If only a kiss can ignite this much in you, you can only shake as you imagine what more your conjoined bodies can release.

“I’ve got you baby.” Johnny says softly against your lips, for your ears only. “No one else exists.” He repeats, calming the tremble rolling up and down your spine with tender pets. “Your first time?”

You nod, skin flushed with goosebumps as your nerves skyrocket and missile launch to the sky erupting each and every worry you’ve ever had. The Alphas never had to be concerned with any inexperience. Always taken care of with various concubines in preparation for the day they’d have to race for a mate. Johnny knew exactly what to do with you, how to use your body and pleasure himself, only heightening your anxiety.

“You trust me don’t you?” He continues to whisper, brushing against your now swollen lips. “Trust that your Alpha will make you feel good, you’ll always reach your pleasure first with me.”

“Can I trust you Alpha?” You ask for further affirmation, sliding your hands beneath the leather furs draped over his shoulders. 

“Have I ever lied to you?” 

Without answering, you push the furs off, eyes going wide at the sight of ink carved onto his skin. Immediately you reach to run the tips of your fingers across the raised flesh, poked through with sterilized needles and squid ink, half scarred from the forced injury to create the permanent markings. “Is that?”

“You.”

It’s as if you’ve woken up in Johnny’s cabin once more, short of breath as you trace over the lithe wolf prowling along a tree branch between leaves. Large golden flecks stare back at you, running your touch over the leaves as the Omega tattooed on his skin almost watches your movements. “Me?”

“My Omega.”

Grasping your wrist he drags your hand higher to the path of flowers blooming open on his shoulder. “My Omega made of honeysuckle and snow coated grass. As sweet as Autumn and fierce as Winter.”

“Johnny..”

Nights of clenching your eyes shut, pretending to ignore the Alphas eyes appearing in your dreams, shove aside the warmth you sought out from the memory of his touch. Every night and day kept apart had taken more of a toll on both of you than either could have realized, desperate to be close as you sink into his chest and wrap around him with a tight hug. “Alpha.”

“I know.” The gentle tone he keeps with you could erase any fear, comforted by the scent that had been suffocating you. Taking deep long inhales you finally let him in, head hazy as the Alphas scent combines with yours. “Never take your eyes off of me Omega.”

He means it, tempted to use his Alpha voice to manipulate you to follow his orders. It’s hard enough to tune out the whispers and groans that surround you from the crowd gathered around as he begins to strip your flimsy tunic away and slowly takes in every inch of your exposed skin, quietly cursing under his breath. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.”

Every touch is soft, voice hushed for only your ears to pick up on, gaze lit up full of love that you can feel each time your eyes meet. Nerves prickle under the drag of his finger, softly gliding down your stomach to the tops of your thighs to part you open, swallowing down a loud deep breath. Embarrassment twitches your knees, wanting to slam them shut as the Alphas lowers to get a close up look and curls his biceps around your thighs. “The most perfect Omega, aren’t you pretty?”

Slick gushes between your folds, shaking from the tips of your fingers to your toes as your peer down between your thighs. Johnny’s eyes shoot up, lowering his thick lips to your center. The invitation of your warm glistening cunt is enough to have him groaning, unintentionally teasing the hood of flesh hiding your clit. Pouty pressed together lips flatten and kiss the bundle of nerves, lighting triggers up your calves and thighs for more slick to drip out onto the Alphas chin grazing across your awaiting entrance.

Given any other circumstance, including the one you could have ended up in, he would have had you present on all fours and fucked you like a proper Omega slut. Alpha urges roar for him to hurry it up, enough to worship your cunt. Ignoring his wolf's demands, he moves lower to kiss at your entrance, slurping up the sweet sticky syrupy slick for the direct source. Burying his nose in to snort your aroused scent this up close. He mouths sloppily at your hole, not even to get you off yet, but to finally have a taste of his dreams. A taste of what he could only imagine for years.

Nothing would ever be able to compare or come close to the heavenly taste of you. 

“My Omega, so sweet. Taste so fucking sweet, pretty pretty girl.” His chins doused with your gleaming arousal when he decides to finally come up from air at the sound of your moans turning into impatient whines. Jerking against his mouth desperately, needing something inside. He can feel it, the frustration coming from both of your wolves, attacking you from inside out to mate mate mate.

The Alphas breath fans across your now sweaty neck, body heat rising at accelerated speed the more he teasingly tortured you. Licking up your scent gland, he drags a way to your ear, biting on the lobe softly. “My innocent Omega wants Alphas cock so badly? Rutting against me like some horny pup.”

And it’s true, without thought your thighs wrap around one of his long muscular legs, jamming your bare core up and down the flexed limb. Hair grazes your slick cunt, making a mess of wet down the Alphas thighs as your hips speed up chasing after a relief only he can fulfill.

“Alpha, I need to.. be closer.” Every and each bone in your body rattles, craving and needing to feel him inside of you. Johnny tenses, eyebrows wrinkling together as he grabs onto your hips and forces you to stop.

“You’re gonna give me a hard time with that pretty ass and pussy, aren’t you?” He says through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering shut. “I’ll fuck you, fuck you full of my pups. Keep you satisfied until all you know is how to take your Alphas cock. Is that what you want?”

Thick palms slide beneath your back, gliding lower to cup and squeeze your ass, encouraging your hips to push down on his thigh again and plead for more. Vigorous grinds of your hips force him to lodge his knees down, shifting the furs laid out beneath you. He grunts, rasping out breaths shakily. “Fuck baby, get it nice and wet for me. Keep doing it just like that.”

As if to warn you, he grips your ass roughly, jamming his hardened clothed length against your hip for you to really feel what you’re about to take. A heavy hot thick rod ruts from your lower belly to your hip, a thin garment separating your lower halves, bowing your spine up pathetically. “Alpha—that, please, please, g-give me!”

A round of groans sound around you, quickly reminding you of where you are, but not long enough before Johnny sits up between your thighs, bringing your hands to his hips. 

“This what you want?” He asks damn near mockingly. Licking at his lips akin to a thirsty rabid wolf. 

“Alpha—want, want it!” 

Hisses, growls, harsh ragged breaths turn louder the more you whine, resisting your Omegas curious urge to glance around. Johnny cups your chin to keep you focused, sleek eyes melting your gaze. “What do you want? Say it clear for your Alpha.”

The size of him above you makes you feel so small, curling into yourself as he positions close between your thighs to jam his clothed size against your drenched cunt. Johnny trembles at the contact, having to sneak a look down as you soak through his light fabric cover up and the shape of his cockhead fully pokes through, pressing the tip to your swollen clit. “Want this?” He mutters, curling the fabric around his cock to slap down heavily between your thighs.

Jerking up in response you let out a howling scream, arms shooting out to grab his biceps. “Please please!”

“Say it!” He growls ferociously, slapping the heavy meat down with audible loud wet claps of skin hitting skin. The contact rushes blood down, chubbing your pussy up in preparation to squeeze the life out of your Alphas dick. 

“Want your cock Alpha! Wan-want you to breed me, pup me!” 

If only you had anything else on your mind other than the Alpha burying inside of you, you’d hear the uproar of feral cries set off around you. Each Alpha willing to sell their soul to be in Johnny’s position right now. They watch on drooling, snarling, rubbing themselves over their garments as your Alpha sits up proudly and strips his lower half free of the fabric. His thick cock bounces up, slapping loudly against the flat planes of his ripped stomach. The visual of Johnny’s chest rising and falling rapidly has slick pouring out of you obscenely, toes curling as you take in the full mass of him. Clenching up as small as you can as you envision what can only be compared to your forearm in size penetrating you.

“Alpha, s’too big..” you say wantonly, still wanting to feel him split you open. Still needy for your Alphas cock to break through your cervix and fatten your belly full of cum.

“I know, baby.” Laying down on you without resting his weight, his cock pressed against your stomach. The tip slotted a few inches above your navel as a preview of how deep he’ll be inside of you soon. Maneuvering his fingers between your thighs, he nips at your jaw, murmuring praises about how wet you are.

“It’s so loud, so warm.” Johnny sighs, sucking on your earlobe. “So slippery between my fingers.”

Tapping at your entrance, he nudges your thighs open further, gliding two fingers in past the ring of muscle that feels as if you’re trying to bite them right off of his hand. Cursing again, he sucks in a ragged breath, licking swirls along your ear. Thumb making way to your clit to loosen up the clamp your cunt has around his fingers. A few meticulous rubs and flicks combined with his hot mouth have you relaxing, shoulders laying flat as he begins to scissors inside of you.

“Feel that Omega? Your pretty tiny fucking pussy.” He grits, fingers beginning to jam in and out of you at heightened speed. “Feel so tight and warm around me, gripping me so good baby.”

Johnny’s nasty words make your mind spin, head thrown back watching the sky above you turn upside down. The sound of your gushing slick louder than anything, muting all but the guttural groans coming from your Alpha. Pleasure scorches throughout your body, reaching for his wrist with a trembling saliva covered bottom lip and watery eyes. “Please, enough. Alpha, I need it, need you.”

He hears you loud and clear, tongue toying with his lip for a moment before drawing free from your cunt. As much as he wants to make this easy for you, there’s no way. Both of you too insatiable and driven by your hunger to be one. To feel conjoined, even if you know it will hurt.

Slowly stroking his cock, he watches your pussy in a trance-like state. Stomach muscle twitching, taking sharp breaths as he rubs a smear of pre-cum around the tip. Dipping his fingers between your sensitive pussy lips again because he can’t help himself, too enthralled by the gush of slick that bubbles out messy and loud. It’s all for him, slowly collecting the wad of slick to coat his cock with like some type of silent apology for what he’s about to do to you.

The twitch your tiny little hole gives in response only makes him groan, setting the head right against your slit to admire the difference in size for a minute.

“Perfect.” Johnny whispers, rubbing his thumb down your clit to the outer rim of your cunt pulsing against his length. He can’t stop his hips from jerking, slowly thrusting to watch your muscle stretch, fighting back the much too large intrusion trying to invade and make a home for himself. The fat tip of his size throbs, pushing it in until he feels your hole snap around him, hissing and biting his lip. “Babies first time, just for me..”

It’s dizzying for him, almost too dizzying to hear your rushed intakes of air, to see your eyes clenched shut, fists balled up on your chest, and your teeth grinding to not scream. Johnny reaches for your forearms, pushing them down for leverage. Slowly he plunges in more, managing to get a few more inches in before pausing to take deep breaths. “You okay baby?”

Nodding furiously, you curse at him to continue. Distracting yourself from the pain by focusing on your breathing. You have to be good, prove yourself worthy, not only for your Alpha, but for the pack of onlookers. Determined to take him, you let out a moan and force your hips up into a swivel, further sliding his length inside.

A slew of curses spring from his lips in shock, reveling in the pressure and tightness enveloping half of his length. “Want it so badly, don’t you.” He says more to himself, moving to grab your hips and hold them down. “But you’ll do as I say.”

He pulls out, a lewd loud pop resounding as Johnny lifts his hips back enough to rub his length up and down. The fat tip of his size purposely nudging and bumping your swollen clit. Each drag against your sensitive pussy further ruining you, sobbing out loud without a care. The hold on your hips keeps you from moving, letting out a desperate shout as Johnny lays his palm flat on your stomach, taking his cock in hand to slap down on against your clit.

“Alpha! N-no!”

“Take it.” He groans, struck by the thick we s of slick that cling to his length with each heavy smack. Emitting pornographic squelching sounds for everyone of the Alphas he will lead someday to hear, to memorize, to know that they will never have a taste of you, let alone ever experience this again.

With a pleased smirk, the engorged tip of his length meets your entrance again. Pussy throbbing like a wounded animal as the Alpha finally presses in again, slowly breaching your hole to make you feel every overwhelming sensation all over again. The pain subsides as pleasure and desperation takes over, incessantly starving to feel him stuff you full. You sob, reaching out for something as he leans in to bracket your head with thick biceps. Finding solace in his shoulders, you claw at his smooth skin, arching up to bite down a scream into his muscle.

It’s heat inducing, arching against the Alpha to get him deeper inside of you. Long thick cock stretching you with each new inch added, too good once fully sheathed inside. You can’t stop whining, licking at Johnny’s smooth pronounced collarbone. Split open by the only one you’ve ever wanted, something about it swells your chest. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders to feel even closer. 

“Alpha, please—“ you start to wail, drooling on his neck, planting haphazard messy kisses.

“What are you begging for, huh?” He chokes out, moving to wrap around your shoulders in the same manner, knowing that your Omega needs to be close. That your heart needs to feel his beating against it. “You’re so tight for me baby. Gonna ruin that perfect pussy you have, make it mine.”

“Ugh!” Dropping your neck back, hot tears fill your eyes, raining down your cheeks as he begins to thrust in and out. 

“All mine, my pretty gorgeous Omega.” He moans, fully pulling out only to ram back in and sending your back arching up with a shout. Johnny can’t slow down, chasing after your release to get to his. Falling into a rough rhythm, he thrusts hard enough to have you both sliding up with each ramming force of his hips. The clenches you give around his cock accompanied by drool coated moans only encouraging him to push in harder, make you taste his cock in the back of your throat from here.

“Alpha..”

“Yeah, what did I say baby? Keep those pretty eyes on me baby. Keep looking at me.” Clutching your neck, he presses your foreheads together. Cock drilling deep past your tight hole. It’s not completely without pain, snapping around the intrusion of his thick long girth. Johnny works hard to keep his own eyes open, consumed by the way your pouty lips fall apart with a moan, how your eyes roll up and back to him over and over again. “Opening up so so good for Alpha. Feel good baby?”

Gliding a hand between your bodies, he lowers closer to your chest, pushing his arm lower to rest the back of your head along the dip of his elbow. Fingers find their way to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with another thrust, easing more inches past your convulsing heat.

“Ahh—!” Incoherently you begin to nod, head spinning, thighs aching around his hips. The pinch to your clit shoots up your spine, lifting your butt up only to be slammed back down into place with another powerful thrust. Johnny curses, sucking at spit around his tongue as he lifts enough to watch you take the last inch of his cock again.

“Oh shit baby.” He croons, biting down on his lip at the sight of his cock completely disappearing inside of you like nothing. The way you take it only as an Omega can. It’s indescribable to feel your heat suck around him, the way your walls clamp on his size like wet firm kisses. Pangs of pleasure throb up his length, cockhead pressed to your cervix at this angle. “Can’t believe—“ the Alpha drags his slick coated fingers to your lips, pushing them down on your tongue, teeth gritting. “Can’t believe I’m inside of you.”

That awakens your lost mind, licking between his digits as he circles down into you and lets you truly feel how big he is. Each twist of his hips feels like a delicious new stretch, opening your cunt up to always be ready for your Alpha to fill you up. He sighs, smiling and pressing in to capture your lips. Cock thrumming inside of you letting you get used to the sheer size of him. Distracting you with wet and messy glides of his tongue, he continues to slur between sucks, drawing your tongue out with his suctioning lips. 

“Such a pretty fucking pussy baby, best cunt ever.” Johnny sounds lost himself, lapping at the combination of your spit smearing between your chins. “Tight, so tight for your Alpha.”

All you can do is whine and agree between his overpowering kisses, failing to grab his tongue with yours. Johnny controls everything, the way you kiss, the way you fuck, the way your body reacts to him. Infiltrating your brain, lungs, heart, cunt, filling every empty hole inside of you with himself, staking claim to his Omega the way only a real Alpha can.

“Pl-please, Alpha, please,” you start to beg, throwing your limbless arms around his shoulders to weakly throw your hips into a circle. Turning desperate to really feel him, to really get fucked by your Alpha.

He fully lets go, tearing past his own resistance to fuck you full, hard and fast. Wet sounds clap around you, jostled by each punching thrust, swearing you can feel him as deep as your lungs from the way you gag on spit and choke on your breath. Weakly tapping at his shoulders you lose it, clamping on the Alphas size hard enough to make him stop for a moment. Johnny growl’s animalistically, pounding through the splash of slick threatening to push his size out from the force of your powerful orgasm. He keeps fucking you through it, looming large over your body going lifeless beneath him.  

“Knot, g-gonna knot baby.” The veins lining his long throat pop out under sweat glistening flesh, dropping his nose to yours as his stomach convulses and he thrusts in all the way deep surely leaving your cervix bruised. “Fucking—-fu—ahh shit!”

It’s the most shattered he’s sounded, raspy and whiny, coming to a stop as the base of his length begins to expand. Swiping his lips against yours between panted breaths.

“S’too.. can’t.” You beg, lightly tapping his chest. It’s useless, both of you too strung out by the peak of your pleasure. The only option left is to wait it out and grit your teeth through the burn stretching against your hole.

Right as you feel every last inch of your body go limp, Johnny securely cups behind your neck, licking across the top row of his teeth practically salivating at the sight of your extended throat arched up so invitingly. The knot thrums against your walls, painful stretch burning as he adjusts to lower his chest to yours and whisper against your lips. “My Omega.”

The bite hurts initially, gnawing deep through the flesh covering your scent gland. Long canines dig through your veins, sucking at the blood that gushes past his bite. Memories of the first time you met the Alpha flash behind your eyes, weakly sinking your nails into his shoulders as tears rush from your eyes and everything he’s ever wanted to say to you flies around your mind. The days you spent together, the times he always let you win just to see you smile, and the frantic need to protect you. Pain washes away along with the tears rolling down your face, whimpering and clutching onto him as hard as you’re able to.

“Johnny..”

The pitiful sounds that come from his throat remind you of a distressed pup, lapping up your bite aggressively as guilt claws at his chest seeing you grow weaker beneath him.

“S’okay Alpha..” you mumble, sliding your hands up his neck to hold his cheeks. The difference in size seems more daunting now, stuck on his knot that hasn’t deflated one bit, the visual of your small hands thumbing his wet cheeks feels right. Feels as if you’ll never have to fend for yourself as each emotion and reassuring sense of devotion fills your head. 

Johnny’s your Alpha, destined to lead, destined to be yours.

“Hurt you..” he barely whispers, thumb caressing the mark on your neck solemnly. Fighting between his pride and lust to prioritize what you could be going through. “Sorry..”

“No no,” tucking your chin, you capture his thumb to suckle on, head shaking softly. “Love you.”

The look that illuminates his features can only be described as one of love. Adoration and admiration, relief, lightly tipping the corners of his lips upward and releasing the tension pinching at his ears. “Love you, my mate.” He says proudly, knot gone down enough to fix your positions and lift you onto his lap. “Let's go home.”

Without allowing you time to look around, he holds onto your bottom, keeping you impaled in place with his knot as his thighs burn to stand, free hand petting the back of your head and easing your nose to rest against his scent gland, successfully masking your eyes from the Alphas that stand around drooling, hard cocks pulsing, desperate to have a piece of you for themselves. With a last look of warning at the group, he turns and takes the back trail back to his cabin, shushing your whines.

“Almost there baby.”

“We’re going home?” You ask drowsily, clinging onto his shoulders as if you fear the idea of falling, knowing the Alpha would never allow for such a thing.

“Our home.” He states, rounding a corner to the back entrance of his cabin to avoid allowing anyone else that may be roaming around to see you in this position. “You did such a good job for me back there pretty.”

“I did?” Warmth fills your stomach, brows knitting as your hips roll against him on their own to feel the Alphas half deflated knot push past your aching entrance. He hisses, cupping your ass firmly on the way to the bed you rested in yesterday, already soaked with your scent, weakening his knees as he lays you down and hovers above you, fist planted by your sides. 

“So good for me, my perfect Omega.”

Reaching up for his shoulder, you trace the wolf gazing down at you once again, head tilted curiously. “Has it always been me? Really?”

Johnny’s eyebrows gather together furiously, nodding rapidly, clicking his tongue annoyed. “You know that it has.”

“It’s nice to hear.” You smile, biting on your lip. 

“Yeah?” Lowering down, he thrusts the rest of his size in to fill you with every inch, knot gone down enough to shove his length in deep once again. “And me? I want to hear you say it.”

Damp strands of hair hang around your face, framing the Alphas sharp cheekbones, long eyes that stare down at you obsessively. 

“It’s always been you.” You admit, arching up for a kiss. 

Already knowing that is one thing, but hearing you say it strikes a nerve, growling from deep in his chest as he reaches to draw your hands above your head and teases your lips with barely there kisses.

“You’re mine.” Small pecks litter your top and bottom lip, lowering to your chin and jaw, trailing a pathway up to your ear and back as he continues to repeat mineminemine.

“Mine to have.” Another kiss.

“Mine to keep.” Another kiss.

“Mine to save.” Another kiss.

“And mine to ruin.” The last kiss steals your breath, bred full again by the next thrust, only held in place by his solid grip on your forearms.

The Alpha made good on his promise to take care of you, fucked and bred night after night to birth the strongest members of your pack. 

Occasionally you’d find your way back to the forest, now with Johnny by your side helping you climb trees that you insisted on being able to do on your own.

“It’s nice up here.” He hums, laying back on the large part of the base with you on his chest, stroking up and down your spine soothingly.

“It’s nicer with you.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrow lifts, tapping your chin to look at him. “No more running away from me then?”

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” You tease, pretending to bite his finger.

“That’s my girl.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

[space-invading-pigeon]

Steve's twenty-one years old and convinced that he is a failure.

All his mother ever talked about was how she couldn't wait for him to get married and give her a beautiful daughter-in-law to gossip with, and all his father talked about was how he wanted Steve to join the family practice and be a big shot lawyer.

Steve is interested in marriage, but the person holding his heart isn't exactly his mother's vision of a perfect partner, and to be entirely honest, Steve is willing to go through every single end-of-the-world fight again before he becomes a lawyer. He hates arguing, especially about topics he isn't too passionate about, and he's been more interested in cooking ever since his parents started leaving him alone so often for their "business trips." Because of all this, Steve really believes that he's some failed attempt at the perfect child, and he hates himself for it.

***

When he starts making lunches for everyone, it's mostly to calm himself: he can't follow every single person in his found family around all day, but he can make sure they've got plenty to eat, that they know he cares for them. It's not much, but it quiets the voice in his head (suspiciously Richard Harrington-like in both tone and word choice) that tells him he's being ridiculous or that packing a lunch for all these people is an embarrassment to the family name.

Everyone loves their personalized lunchboxes, so much so that Mike "lets" Steve make him lunch, too, after only a week. (It's packed with high-calorie finger foods, all of which have textures that don't make Mike want to scream. They're usually shaped like knights, swords, and shields) Steve's pretty much set for life, anyway, since Hopper strong-armed his father into leaving Hawkins back in '83, so Steve is happy to spend his time and money making his family happy.

Erica is the one who notices how much Steve loves to cook and actually DOES something, though. She demands a certain quality to everything she's involved with, and she's never shied away from telling someone they needed to step up, but she never once has a negative thing to say about Steve's food (the only complaint she had was with her first lunchbox: not enough food). It drives her actual parents crazy, that Steve can get her to eat anything he makes, when Erica has gone to bed hungry or fallen asleep at the table because she refused to eat something her parents made.

All this to say, it's Erica's doing that Steve is signed up for so many events. She doesn't even ask; if they need food, she volunteers him, and Steve can't say no to his Kids, so he always comes through. Steve is the envy of all the PTA bake sales, school dances, and even Parent-Teacher Nights with his cooking, and Erica is his number one promoter. She even bullies Hopper into signing Steve up for a booth during the Hawkins Fall Festival (in '87, since the 1986 festival was cancelled because of the "earthquake"), and her Encouragement™ is how Steve ends up with forty batches of brownies, several hundred dozen cookies, fifteen pies, and a veritable mountain of other sweets packed into a small canvas tent one morning in mid-October. Erica doesn't do work unless it benefits her directly, but she spends all day in that booth with Steve, Joyce, Robin, and Argyle, manning the money box so that the other four can just serve treats. They make so much money that Steve buys their entire groups dinner (and if he leaves fifty bucks in the pocket of Wayne Munson's coat, that's just how it goes).

Steve continues to make lunches, but after the festival is over, he starts getting calls to his house AND Family Video, asking him if he'd cater, if he could make a dessert, if he was available MONTHS in advance for a block party. It's overwhelming, but people adore his food, and just that thought motivates him enough to start booking each request.

By the end of January 1988, Steve has raised enough money to seriously look into starting his own business. Numbers make him sick (not really, he just hates math), so he asks Joyce to help him with finances, and before spring break, Hop's is up and ready for business. (Hopper cries when Steve tells him that he's naming his bakery after him- that's his boy and he's bursting with pride and love for this idiot kid)

[emyluwinter]

Yuu and streams.

I've always wondered what if Yuu uses his smartphone to conduct simple amateur streams? Over time, they even gain a small popularity and audience. But no one at all can intelligibly say that such Yuu.

All their followers could find was that they study at Night Raven College, but their dorm is unknown to anyone. And there are ghosts there? Some particularly energetic followers sometimes build wild theories about the life of Yuu and about the life of ghosts.

Next I will write that Yuu is a girl. I'm so comfortable.

Yuu usually streamed her normal life. Washing dishes after dinner and cleaning the kitchen. A quiet place, with simple actions and some tired charm in every movement, something hooked everyone who accidentally stumbled upon this stream. No magic despite the fact that this is her uniform belongs to one of the famous colleges of magic. Occasionally she puts a gramophone nearby that can play the music you remember. (This thing is in the guest room in the game) This thing is so old that some go to search the Internet for what it is.

On some streams, Yuu cooks a recipe book for beginners or something a little more complicated.

-Add 4/1…w h a t ? - Yuu squints at the book in puzzlement and then her eyes blink in surprise.

Her expression changes to confused and confused. Leaving the spoon and the bag of butter on the table, Yuu takes the recipe book and turns it upside down, shaking it slightly along the way so that all the joking notes from the former owners of the recorded and enclosed scraps of paper fly out.

-Pretend you didn't see it.. - Yuu asks awkwardly, unable to hide her reddened ear tips from shame.

Having a habit of pronouncing his actions, Yuu tries to follow everything according to the recipe, occasionally adding one or another spice to his taste if it is permissible.

-Oh, what a delicious syrup. - Licking a drop of syrup that fell on her finger, Yuu thinks for a second and adds even less than a teaspoon to the pie mixture more.

At one of the not birthday parties. Cater suggested that Yuu make some settings for donations or the location of the chat for followers that Yuu can see live.

It all started with pretty simple and cute donations. 15 madols on a new sponge for dishes, because this follower can't look without pain at this horror with which Yuu washes plates.

45 madols for a new light bulb so that Yuu can use them for a new light bulb in the kitchen, without fear that the last working light bulb in the chandelier will burn out and have to cook by candlelight.

Grimm wanted to participate in this for a while, but he was so lazy to do anything after classes and a good dinner that he just slept peacefully or dozed next to Yuu while she was hosting.

Accustomed to the "definitely not feline" habits of the Grimm, Yuu did not even swear when he suddenly fell asleep in the middle or at the beginning of his work.

But the followers, Grimm definitely liked it.

Ace and Deuce definitely watched every Yuu stream if they weren't busy with club activities. Why? Because somehow even the mere sight of Yuu through the screen calmed them down and motivated them to continue their training.

Despite his completely "not sincere language", Ace left any emoticons under each stream of Yuu.

Deuce really liked doing homework in the living room of the dorm while watching Yuг stream along the way. His favorite streams were when Yuu was studying or cooking something. He could not explain why he could concentrate on studying on such days and better assimilate the material. In truth, both of them could not find the strength to overcome the desire to go right now to visit Yuг and Grimm and ask for a portion when the Prefect was cooking something delicious.

Trappola more than once ran away from his duties when Yuu made pies or buns, just for the sake of being the first to try them. He gets punished by Riddle, but in a lighter form because Ace "pays off Yuu's cooking"

He ends up doing double punishment anyway.

Often Deuce is also involved in this.

Yuu's followers just go crazy when they can't find a single song they hear on her streams. Someone even made recordings and sent them to local radio or music stations, but no one could give an answer to the name of the song or melody. Which is why there are even more theories.

Detective stories that she occasionally retells while Grimm finishes his homework. And as a reward receives the answer to the riddle. He definitely likes to feel this tension from the tightening mystery like a narrow bottleneck. And then swear that the solution was so obvious and he would have guessed if Yuu had given him more clues.

Some book clubs almost pulled out their last hair trying to find the name of the book or collection mentioned by Yu. But there is not one even close to what they heard from her.

Absolutely insane theories about who the Prefect of Yuu is are starting to go around on the Internet and Magikamе.

Her dorm? There is not a single official document that it was ever possible to find. There is not one of the accounts among College students who would be there. But absolutely EVERYONE could confirm that such a dorm REALLY EXISTS. And yes, the Prefect is a living person.

One day Yuu comes to one of the streams of the next donat "1000 madols. User xxxx2546 asks - Yuu are you some kind of forgotten deity or a lost child of a famous family?"

Of course, she is very flattered that she will be donated, mostly small amounts, but she definitely improves the hostel on them so she definitely won't complain. And never in his life will he tell Director Crowley about it.

After reading the text to the donation, Yuu quietly choked on air and laughed merrily covering her mouth with her palm. Her cheerful ringing laughter bounced off the old shabby walls and pale faded wallpaper, giving the room a more lively look at least for a moment.

-Forgotten deity?! Do you guys seriously think that I am….pf… Oh, I can't… - Yuu doubled over with laughter and then suddenly straightened up.

-First of all, thank you for your help, I can finally buy some pots. And secondly….what nonsense is this?!I'm not a forgotten deity, I don't even have magic…look here..

Standing in a ridiculous hero pose, Yuu points to the window with his index finger.

-Let there be thunder and lightning! Hdysch! - having invented the ridiculous sound of the spell, Yuu jumps on the spot when thunder begins to rumble loudly on the street so much that the glass in the window frames vibrates and the room is illuminated by a thunderbolt.

Biting his lip, Yuu awkwardly looks at the camera. Now she definitely won't be able to reason with some of the people who watch her.

-I swear to you…..it's not me….

Suddenly realizing something, Yuu again makes a ridiculous pose and hand gesture.

-I want to become rich!

But nothing happens, except that the thunder and lightning increase.

-Oh, come on….it's not fair. I only know one who could….Oh shit!

Running up to the window and quickly opening it, Yuu leans out of the window and shouts loudly to someone on the street.

-Tsunotaro, please let's not rain today! I just hung up all the laundry!!!

Suddenly, the whole storm subsides and the chat just blows to shreds from text and messages. Yuu looks at his phone even more confused.

-I don't think I can explain it to you for sure….

I think that Vil also makes streams from time to time. Because he is a media personality and he needs to maintain his level.

So on one of the streams, several of his followers notice a terribly familiar interior and furnishings that they have definitely already seen somewhere.

-Schoenheit I brought you tea as you requested.. - a quiet voice-over is heard in the room while Vil continues his stream.

-Oh, thank you, put it on the table, please.

The chat begins to fill up with questions whether it could be someone from the staff or college students. And what kind of relationship they have with a celebrity.

Behind Schoenheit, a small figure in an apron can be seen placing a tray with a cup and a small teapot on a table behind the place where the model is sitting. The face does not get into the frame. And the chat is even more crazy.

-Is there anything else you need? - again an unfamiliar and quiet voice for everyone.

-Yes, here is a list of what we talked about earlier. And don't forget the ointment.- Schoenheit puts some paper in her hand with a plaster on the brush.

-Okay, I get it. Thank you, that helped a lot from the burn.

A few days later, on Yuu's stream, some people notice the same hand with a Band-Aid and the same paper in her hands.

"150 madols. user xxxx45461 asks - what happened to your hand?"

-Oh thank you, oh…. a trifle I burned myself in class today. I've already been given a good ointment so it's okay. Today there will be a short stream because I will need to do a lot of tasks from the list. And it's secret.

A huge wave is now pouring into the piggy bank of theories about the origin of Yuu, what kind of relationship she may have with the most famous Schoenheit model. Magikame buzzes like a pterodactyl from all the most impossible and ridiculous options.

[wri0thesley]

Can’t help but think about Thoma who’s usually so gentle and passionate in the bed suddenly becoming so rough and merciless. He likes to take his time usually, giving you ample time to adjust while he fawns over your body, either sucking your tits or rubbing your clit to help make the adjustment feel better. His hands in yours as he starts to move. But tonight he’s just thrusting wildly, taking what he wants as you struggle to think about what has gotten into him while he is fucking your brains out. Afterwards he is incredibly apologetic but you insist you’re fine, hoping whatever motivated him to do that will happen again.

i DO think he must have a lot of stress! i mean . . . working for the kamisatos? and we know that he has his fingers in a lot of different pies from his hangout - i wouldn't be at all surprised if sometimes he simply came home from a day at work and needed to let off steam. oh, he'd be apologetic afterwards when you're bruised and breathless and sweaty - but he has no need to apologise, really, for the way he looked teeth gritted above you, the filthy things he whispered into your ear as his hips jack-hammered into you, the wild light in his eye as he looked down at you and kissed you with more teeth than you've ever felt before--

[all-pacas]

What I'm thinking about:

Do you think Durge knew Cazador? Even slightly? What about Gortash?

Like, there's some overlap, right? Cazador is known as a reclusive, but active politician in the city. He has a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, and is paying close attention to Gortash's rise. Gortash, also, is very politically minded and planning on several huge power grabs in a row. Basically his first act after his coronation is killing most of the city's ruling class, minus Ravengard.

In Act 1, there's a dialogue where Gale, of all people, recognizes the Szar name and reputation (if not the vampire thing), though, so clearly Cazador is someone people In Politics know of. I think Gortash probably did know who he was. They might have even met.

So would Durge have? I mean, you'd think there's some good overlap between "vampire lord" and "our temple is decorated with pools of blood." And Durge was absolutely hanging out with Gortash, and was, if not super politically motivated, generally active and well-known as a Leading Bhaalist in certain circles. I feel pretty confident that Cazador probably knew of Durge, if not by sight. But imagine them meeting at a party.

[honeyynymphh]

Wip Wednesday

tagged by @sucharide years ago

this is from a new story (one of many) that is very nearly finished. having so much trouble finishing things lately so I’m hoping by posting this into the void I shall be motivated to complete it!

it’s just the beginning so there are no real warnings but it is a little nsfw

Cardinal Copia x FemReader

summary: you’re an abbey maid that has the unfortunate pleasure of having to clean the most infuriating cardinal’s office and personal chambers.

You stare at the books in front of you and sigh, the wooden ladder you stand on groaning a little with the movement. Fuck, how you hated having to clean this damn shelf—well, shelf didn’t really cover it, it was an entire wall full of books and a few odd curiosities. Honestly, cleaning this entire office was exhausting. It took up most of your day, and then you had to move on to the inhabitants’ personal chambers. No wonder nobody else wanted to do it.

All those months ago when Sister Imperator had given out the timetables you’d been ecstatic to see you had fewer rooms to clean than the previous roster. The other maids had given you pitying looks but nobody had offered to swap with you, which you had dismissed as odd. How bad could one person be? You understood why now. It was because this room had to be cleaned thoroughly or you ended up back here, dusting and wiping while the owner of the room sneered out unhelpful and downright rude commentary on your methods.

But you were not going to be cowed by that uptight ass. You didn’t care if Cardinal Copia was nearly as high up as Sister Imperator or the Papas. If the man wanted his study and chambers to be cleaned, he would, at the very least, give you some respect. You were the only one who didn’t find him weirdly offputting—though he very much was that—but cleaning his office and chambers was much more pleasant than having to clean up the Great Hall after one of their decadent feasts or having to clean the rooms of the Papas. You never knew what would be in store for you whenever you entered a space that Papa Terzo had just vacated. And once you were done, it meant you had more free time. It was worth it, especially now that you’d grown used to the Cardinal and his acerbic tongue.

Cardinal Copia was exacting and his manners were non-existent but at least he was predictable. And he rarely made any mess—he certainly didn’t leave cream splattered on the ceiling. At least, you think it had been cream…Papa Terzo had mentioned something about cream pies.

Your eyes focus back on the books in front of you, most are all leather bound and organised neatly. Some have titles in golden lettering along the spines but so few of them are in English. You are nearly finished tidying them back up after having dusted and your eyes scan over them. The Cardinal had such a strange collection of books, and while many you could never read, some had intriguing diagrams and little illustrations in them. As someone not part of the church, just a maid, it was fascinating perusing through the strange old texts. You were sure the one you had leafed through last week had been about summoning actual demons.

One book catches your eye, it’s bound in deep red leather and the spine is decorated in gold embellishments. Your fingers run along the bumps and dips of the spine before you slip it out from the shelf and flip it open at random, your hip pressing against the top of the ladder as you balance yourself. Your eyes widen as you take in the illustration before you. It is…obscene! A woman on her knees in prayer, yet she is naked and bound. And her open mouth is not waiting for the communion wafer but for the cock of the priest standing before her, the rest of the congregation looking on without a care.

You flip to another page. This time, a woman stands upon a small plinth—a rope hangs from the ceiling and suspends her tied hands high above her head. A man stands next to her, ready to strike her bare ass with a wicked-looking birch rod. But there is also another man, on his knees before the other, his mouth clearly wrapped around the other’s cock—his own hard and leaking.

“Intrigued, Signorina?”

[smiggles]

Hey Smi, as an artist who has their fingers in a few pies, what’s your biggest piece of advice for baby artists?

I’d like to draw more and try to build up a community of support around me, but I draw slow and the numbers game is disheartening for someone with starter pack skills.

What do you think I should do?

Also, Happy New Year! I hope 2024 is rejuvenating and kind to your spirit:

HMMM This one is genuinely very difficult to answer especially with there being little to no sustainable platform for artists to get out there. I find myself struggling to figure out how to handle the current changes and how that effects my livelihood without burning out my creativity as well as my social battery. Read More Below the Cut

The best thing I can recommend is really trying to get out there and make artist friends. Whether that means joining discords, an ArtRPG, or engaging with artists who's content you really like and have similar interests to you. This helps you keep motivation to draw, keep inspiration. It helps you make friends which speaks for itself the benefits Learning from each other. A good support network. Trying new things. Et cetera et cetera. You can also start a community of your own where people can engage with you directly, such as a discord or starting drawpiles, streaming on picarto/twitch where you talk to people Having a good foundation means a lot imo! But this is just my experience and its not a one size fits all

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 13 (Vampire x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Part 1 | Previous | Masterlist | Next

x x x x x

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

Also, my inbox is always open for asks, so don’t be shy!

x x x x x

The three of you decide to meet up at a Penny's diner - a quaint eatery, dressed up in greens and yellows, that never quite shook the 'corporate franchise' air - for dinner before heading to the theater. Tabaeus and you take the bus together, planning to carpool with Ewan later.

Inside the Penny's, it is pleasantly warm and only slightly busy, with plenty of empty tables between patrons. The scent of their trademark pies wafts through the air, along with the syrup and sweetness of their 24-hour breakfast specials.

From one of the waiting benches, Ewan stands up upon seeing you. Immediately, he's all smiles, in spite of Tabaeus's appearance. Awkwardly, you wave to him, knowing the outfit Tabaeus chose for you is... uncharacteristic.

Your little party of three is led to a corner booth near the back and, after you slip in on one side, you find yourself flanked by your companions. Which only intensifies the stares.

All through the bus ride and into the restaurant, you felt eyes following you and Tabaeus. Perhaps Tabaeus a little more than you, considering their state of dress.

They wore an above-the-knee pink-white-brown plaid skirt with dark brown stockings and a sleeveless brown turtleneck halter, over which Tabaeus wore an oversized soft milk-chocolate brown cardigan. The clothes and shoes - chunky brown platform mary janes - are totally foreign to you. Vaguely, you wonder if Tabaeus has been shopping when you were at work or if they'd figured out the trap of Online Shopping.

Either way, you think they look adorable and well put-together. Especially with the little brown beret, pink tie, and retro round sunglasses with brown-gold frames.

You can't say the same for yourself. Tabaeus fished out that bat onesie from wherever it had been stashed.

It turns out the vampire was very well acquainted with the idea of karma.

"So, what's with the get-up?" Ewan laughs, turning to you after the waitstaff has taken your drink orders.

Even though he's dressed casually, he still puts you to shame. The dark denim vest, with lighter colored sleeves roughly sewn on to make it a jacket, and tee-shirt are ones you've seen before. You even helped to sew some of the patches on the jacket. Though his jeans appear new and without holes, even if his sneakers are the same-old same-old.

Slumping further into the seat, you press your hands to your face. The wings of the blasted pajamas catches on the table's edge and you huff, "Tabaeus chose it."

"I do not know why you are complaining," Tabaeus chuckles and, when you look at them, they give you a vicious, teasing smile. They reach over, pinching your cheek with cold their cold fingers. "You look cute enough to eat."

Moodily, you swat Tabaeus's hand away, your own lips puckering further into a pout. You had hoped they'd dress you up snazzily or sexily. Something that would make it so both you and Tabaeus could taunt and tease Ewan. You should have known better, in retrospect. Why would they help you look tantalizing, just to dangle you in front of their potential natural enemy?

"Well, we should un-cute-ify you enough so no one eats you, hm?" Ewan leans over to you, nearly touching his forehead to yours. Before you can answer, he has shrugs off his jacket and offers it to you.

"My hero," you dryly say as you grin and accept the jacket. It takes you a moment to struggle into the jacket, folding the sewn-to-sleeve wings into the arms of the coat. The scent of Ewan and pine envelops you, his sinfully warm body heat still lingering in the fabric.

You hope this will keep people from staring at the pajamas. Though you doubt it.

From the corner of your eye, you see Tabaeus roll their eyes in an exaggerated fashion. Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at them, having beat their little revenge plot. But Ewan isn't done. From his pocket, he fishes out a collar. He holds it out to you, an eyebrow cocked and a goading, wolfish smile on his lips.

You smooth the hood of the pajamas over the collar of the jacket, before reaching for the dog collar. The snort of laughter you make isn't stifled as you ask, "Why do you have a dog collar?"

If you're going to dress ridiculously, might as well go all out, you decide. Without thinking of the potential implications, you slip the collar on, fastening it at a comfortable setting. Like the jacket, it weighs warmly against you.

Before Ewan can respond, Tabaeus sniffs loudly. "I told you, he's a dog."

They don't even look up from the menu they're suddenly so interested in. Amusement in Ewan stills, his gaze jerking to Tabaeus. Danger prickles across your skin and suddenly the air is heavy, like an angry predator stalked into the room. "What's that supposed to mean?"

If Ewan had fur, you have no doubt it'd be bristling in an agitated fashion. You think you can see his lips twitch, as if wanting to bare his teeth in a snarl.

Tabaeus's red eyes lazily side up to Ewan and they flash him a pointed and pointy smile. "Just that you are a rapscallion. A scoundrel. Need I go on?"

While you hoped Tabaeus could have acted civil for the whole night, what little they gave you was probably all they could do. Other than vampires and werewolves being at each other's throats - and your suspicion that Tabaeus is jealous of Ewan - you also try to account for the out-of-character vibes. Those uncharacteristic mannerisms have something to do with the missing pieces of the Tabaeus puzzle, you think.

The air between the two of them is sparking and agitated now, though. You briefly consider spilling the beans to Ewan, before remembering the other patrons around you. It would probably be better to be discreet. Even if these two aren't being as careful.

Pulling out your phone, you text Ewan, explaining Tabaeus had told you of their alleged lycanthropy. Ewan's phone chimes and, once he pulls it from his pocket, he shoots you a curious look before reading the text in full.

If there was a question to the claim, it dissipated as green eyes shot angrily to Tabaeus. A quiet growl - one that you felt more than heard - started deep in Ewan's chest. Under his breath, you hear him mutter, "Blood-sucking asswipe."

A pretty mild insult, you thought, especially as Tabaeus simply smiles and shrugs carelessly.

"Look, I don't want you two to fight," you sigh as you put your phone away. Your hands land on the table, feeling the icy coldness of the laminated top. "The last couple days have been heavy and I just want to have fun."

Your words instantly draw Ewan's attention. He shifts toward you a bit, and you can't help but wonder if he's already imagining all sorts of awful things happening from sharing a roof with Tabaeus. Blood meals and enthrallment and who-knew-what-else. Ewan's hand brushes yours on the table and you're torn between comfort and dread. "Heavy how?"

"It's... Ugh, just a lot." You sigh and lean your head against the table, not wanting to put Tabaeus in a difficult spot. How Ewan would take the news of the journal and what it detailed could only be imagined. It likely wouldn't help foster any friendship between vampire and werewolf.

Besides, the memory of those words makes your head hurt. Like an icepick lodged into your grey matter.

To your surprise, Tabaeus fields the question with a solemn tone. "They've been reading a journal from a box of vampire hunting supplies I provided them."

You glance up at Tabaeus just as Ewan utters a surprised, "What?"

The chatter of the diner suddenly feels louder, pressing in on you. The clink of plates, the swish of water pouring into glasses, the muffled delight of people getting their food. It all feels far off. Perhaps it is, considering this conversation almost feels like an entire world away.

"It's a long story." Now, it's Tabaeus's turn to look conflicted. They refuse to look up at Ewan or you and turn one of the pages of the menu. You can tell Tabaeus isn't looking at the words or pictures.

"Tabaeus has amnesia. Maybe." Buoyed by Tabaeus's willingness to let Ewan into the situation, you prop yourself up on your elbows on the table. Cradling your face in your hands, you sigh before going on. "And the journal detailed experiments done to them in the 1880s by some people who caught them."

"Ah," Ewan says, obviously struggling to find something to say. He blinks, his fingers fiddling with the edge of his own menu. "Okay."

"Just okay?" Your attention swings to him, your eyebrows raised. You expected more from him, especially since his werewolf nature was confirmed. The moment he heard of Tabaeus's alleged amnesia or the vampire hunting book or just the heavy atmosphere, you thought Ewan would be fervent in trying to separate you from Tabaeus.

"They're lucky to still be alive, if they got caught at one point." Ewan shrugs, his eyebrows lowering and lips contorting with conflicting feelings. For the first time, you wonder about his connection to other lycans. Was he turned? Or did he grow up with a werewolf family? A pack? Your lips thin, considering what sort of horrors might befall any supernatural being living in this world, populated by unforgiving humans.

He runs a hand through his messy curls, his nose wrinkling a bit. "As for the memory thing, I've heard of any long-lived people having a hard time with memories. The human brain isn't built for it."

A thoughtful sort of silence blankets the table. The fact Ewan didn't jump on shitting on Tabaeus resonates at the back of your head, your thoughts more focused on what he said.

It's true, isn't it? Even if a vampire was a creature of the night, they started as a human. Didn't they? And wasn't the same true for werewolves, as well? Even if it was a trait bred into their being, there was a point when werewolves were just human.

As you consider this almost obvious point of view, Tabaeus cuts in from your other side. "Strangely poignant. For a mutt."

"Thank you. I do try." Ewan flashes Tabaeus a smile and inclines his head in a gracious nod. You're thankful he's not rising to Tabaeus's bait this time. The vampire frowns, obviously hoping to bother the other.

"Anyway," you cut in, before yet another round of bickering can be ignited. You tap your own menu against the table, flipping it open. "What are you going to order?"

"They got a good plant-based selection here." Eagerness takes over Ewan's expression as he points out to the particular section he's talking about. The print is done up in greens, to highlight the 'plant' centric theming. His finger slides down to the fourth option, which has a photo of a tasty looking burger beside it. "Was going to go for the Inconceivable Burger. Has a tofu-based aioli on it that slaps."

"Well, that is a shocker," muses Tabaeus as they, too, lean over your menu. Their tone tells you they aren't going to be so easily dissuaded from their shit-stirring. You frown at the vampire, knocking your foot gently against their ankle. They pointedly ignore your attempt to get their attention and your displeased expression, which annoys you further.

"What?" Ewan tilts his head slightly to Tabaeus, his eyebrows raised.

Tabaeus meets Ewan's confused look with a smile and synthetically sweet tone. "Most mongrels want it rare and bloody."

"Yeah, well, I'm vegan." Ewan doesn't miss a beat, rolling his eyes. Once more, you're thankful he's not rising to Tabaeus's taunts, even if he sounds annoyed now. "Get off my ass about it."

"You wish I was on your ass." A pout puckers at Tabaeus's lips, further frustrated by the lack of response from Ewan.

"I can't tell if you two are fighting or flirting." You snort and ignore the look they both shoot your way. Though the intensity and heat of their looks make your insides squirm. Instead, you focus on the menu before you, trying to steer the conversation to a safer topic. "The plant-based chicken tenders sound good."

When the waitstaff comes around to take orders, you're not surprised Tabaeus orders a plant-based meal, as well. You have a feeling they don't like the idea of being left out of the pattern.

Once the waiter bustles off to the kitchen, you look back over to Ewan. "So, what movie are we seeing?"

It's been awhile since you've gone to see a movie, if you're being honest. You don't even know what's playing in theaters at the moment. Streaming services have spoiled you, when you were able to afford them.

"There's a few I kinda want to see, but I'm really up for anything," Ewan shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck.

It's obvious he doesn't want to lock the three of you into any movie in particular. Still, he can at least give you a starting point as to what he's hoping for. "What're you interested in?"

"Well, the Unexpected Human Problem looked good for a sci-fi. Heard it involves time travel, too." Ewan pulls out his cellphone, pulling up the movie listings for the nearby theater. You peer over to his screen as he sets it on the table, without realizing just how close you're getting to him. "There's also Desperation's Summit, a romantic drama involving a troll and human lady. Honestly, seeing the trailers, she acts pretty awful. I'm just curious how they redeem her."

Brief memories of the unskippable trailers playing before your TubeYou viewings skims through your thoughts. With an agreeing nod, you laugh, "Yeah, she seemed pretty bad, honestly."

"Oh! And there's Plague Butcher, which takes place in Victorian England and it's about a butcher using plague corpses for their meat." Excitedly, he points to another option. The poster for it depicts an old-timey butcher's storefront done up to make it look like the meats hanging in the window form a screaming, human face. "Ends up with a zombie apocalypse sort of vibe, which I thought was interesti-"

"Ah, there it is." On the other side of the table, Tabaeus cuts in again. Ewan and you look over to the vampire, who is leaning their chin in their hand, elbow braced on the table. Tension threads through your shoulder as you frown at them. That disdainful tone is starting to aggravate you.

There's a knowing, sly grin on their lips at your questioning gazes. "Horror. Is it not a common trope of people who seek to get close to whom-so-ever they invited out?"

With a frown, you're about to tell Tabaeus to lay off. Ewan had mentioned two other genres, before talking about the last one. Obviously, he wasn't using anything to get closer to you.

"That's the plan." Ewan surprises you with his words. Your attention flickers to him, finding a shameless grin on his lips as he leans back into his seat. Both of his arms extend along the back of the booth, looping you under his arm while also showing off his arm span. There's a taunting edge to his words as he says, "No worries, I'll sit between you both. Optimal position."

It doesn't escape your knowledge that Ewan's plan literally puts him between yourself and Tabaeus. However, you're not sure if he means to be an obstacle or is just being nice to include the vampire.

Tabaeus snorts, their tone taking on a disgusted lilt. "I am not going to cling to you of all people."

"I don't know. You dressed our dear friend in adorable footie jammers, while you got all gussied up." Ewan winks down at you, which makes you hunch your shoulders. The fluttery sensations in your stomach jump as the werewolf gives your shoulders a squeeze. Thankfully, he doesn't stare at you longer as he lobs a question back at Tabaeus, "Didn't you want attention?"

"Not from you," Tabaeus spits out, their nose wrinkling further. From under the table, you feel their foot brush against your leg. Heat flares up your spine, understanding the unspoken words in Tabaeus's actions.

Unaware of the footsie beneath the table, Ewan's grin is easy, toothy, and roguish. You feel his eyes slip from Tabaeus to you as he speaks, "Aw, that's a pity, because I find both of you ravishing."

Outrage paints itself across Tabaeus's features. However, you're fairly certain they'd be blushing if they had any blood in them. You are feeling the heat yourself, if you're being honest.

Before Tabaeus lobs another insult Ewan's way, you sigh and hum in a singsong voice, "Fighting or flirting?"

You regret the taunt as soon as it leaves your lips. Tabaeus's gaze shoots to you, their red eyes intense, especially as they catch onto Ewan's arm still lazily around your shoulders.

"Why are you so intent on asserting we're flirting?" Their eyes narrow and you still as that pout on their lips shifts into a grin. A sharp light suddenly shines in their gaze. They lean closer to you, dropping their voice to a soft decibel that sends tingling goosebumps along your body. "If I did not know better, I would think you wanted us to be flirting."

Ewan shifts, peering down at you while his arm remains firmly in place. A bit of teasing surprise filters into his voice. "Are they trying to get a two-for-one deal?"

"Oh, I did not think of that." Tabaeus's words are smooth, tinged with a spark of curiosity as their gaze stays glued to your face.

Shocked, your mouth has dropped open, but you have no words to blather out. Your mouth snaps shut, the heat on your cheeks becoming too warm. A little frantically, you look from Tabaeus to Ewan. You're offered little solace from the werewolf, though. His green eyes are just as glinty as Tabaeus's, with a broad crooked grin on his lips.

In your chest, your heart pounds. Something akin to fear edges into your thoughts, though it's more pleasant, if no less anxiety-inducing.

Briefly, you consider pressing your hands to your face, hiding the growing blush. That would only amuse the two further, though. Which, again, makes that warm embarrassment sift through your body.

You just couldn't win. Especially while Tabaeus and Ewan look at you like that.

"Nevermind, go back to fighting each other," you mumble, shoving both of them away and scooting smack in the middle of them again. Albeit, this time, with a safe distance between them and you.

You hope the space will help to disperse the images your imagination is suddenly feeding you. Alas, it doesn't. But you still feel better with both of them being further away. Any closer, and they might sense the inappropriateness bleeding from your thoughts.

"No, no, I'm curious now, myself." Ewan leaned close again, his body heat licking up the side of your body, despite the denim jacket acting as a barrier. His voice dips low, a playful growl faintly tinging the edges, "Are you hoping to be sandwiched between us, in more ways than one?"

For once, Tabaeus doesn't snipe at Ewan. Miserably, you realize why. The two of them have found common ground in teasing you.

Of course, that would be what they bonded over.

"Alright, alright. Enough you two." Despite the obvious pink on your cheeks, you wave the two of them away. Thankfully, your eye catches on the waiter bringing out your meals. "Behave. Food's here."

As the waiter comes up to the table, laying out the meals, you can feel Ewan and Tabaeus exchange a look. A delighted smug air shoots between the two.

With steely determination, you keep your eyes on the waiter, shaking your head when asked if anything else was needed. Your companions mirror your need for anything else. A sigh of relief almost escapes you as they turn and leave. However, you are immediately aware of Ewan and Tabaeus.

They're both smiling at you, unspoken plots swimming in the air around them. If you focus, you wonder if you could sus out what is going on in both of their heads. However, you really don't want to know. You're willing to bet it would just make your mortifying flush intensify.

You shoot them both dirty looks as you unwrap your utensils from its napkin. "Don't make me regret tonight, you two."

"I would never!" Tabaeus presses a long-fingered hand to their chest, their scandalized expression comical.

Ewan reaches for his burger and, faintly, you realize his fingernails are long, well-kept, and sharp. Have they always been that way? He chuckles so deeply it makes your stomach quiver. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Valiantly, you try to ignore them and dig into your meal, as they share yet another look. From the corner of your eye, you see both of them grin at each other again.

A truce has been made.

At your expense.

[bucketkicked]

My Grimsby ! | An Irene Drabble

Take me back you rustic town, I miss your magic charm ! Just to smell your candy floss or drink in the Skinners Arms ! No Cordon Bleu can match the beauty of your pies and peas ! I want to ride your fairground, take air along the quay !

“Let’s run away. Elope, you know?” 

Irene had pitched the idea once, twice, even. She and Sylvia had been together for a little over three years now, and she was itching to get away from Cambridge. She couldn’t quite figure out why, but perhaps it had something to do with wanting to move somewhere quieter, where there were less people, which meant less people to bother the pair. Sylvia hadn’t received the brunt of the troubles that the pair faced, but even so, Irene was concerned that she’d start to get targeted, too. She’d expressed her concerns, but it turns out that both women–barely even women, they’d just turned twenty-one–were just alike in their stubbornness. 

Sylvia didn’t want to leave behind her family, which Irene understood, even if she insisted that they could still send letters or call. There was a distinct familiarity, too, that such a change in scenery would disrupt. Neither of them really cared for change, but Irene’s need for difference trumped her discomfort, and Irene, being the way that she was, had a way of wearing people down. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but she always managed to do it. 

It was a comfortable, sunny day, where the pair were lying on Irene’s bed, all alone in her flat. She tucked a strand of Sylvia’s sandy blonde hair behind her ear just so, with a warm smile. There was a twinkle in her eye, one that Sylvia knew well, but she didn’t ask about it–the cause would become soon apparent. She had a gut feeling about what was about to be asked, anyways. It’d only come up a few times that she’d remembered, but she could always tell when her girlfriend was going to bring up the subject once again. 

“You know what your hair reminds me of?” Irene asks, her smile now turned into a grin. 

“What does it remind you of?” Sylvia replies back with her own question, a small smile of her own growing on her face to match. 

“A beach,” Irene continues, “a nice, cozy, warm beach. And the weather today reminds me of it, too. I simply think we should go to the beach.” 

“Permanently?” Sylvia couldn’t contain herself any longer, deciding to pop the question in her own way. Perhaps she had thought about it herself, finally moving away and spreading her wings. Some people had started to believe that she depended too much on her family, and something within her wanted to prove them wrong. Maybe if she did something wild, they’d believe there was more to her.

Irene’s brows raise, yet her smile confidently remains, her finger tracing down Sylvia’s jaw to reach her chin. “If I said yes, would you do it? Would you come with me to Grimsby?” She eyes her girlfriend almost seductively, with a certain passion in her gaze. “I know it’s the third time or so I’ve asked, but…”

“It’s a charm,” Sylvia giggles, tickled by Irene’s gentle touch. “This time, I think I’ll have to say yes. You’ve convinced me enough. I’ll have to come up with a good excuse for me packing up and leaving, but yes, I’ll join you!” 

With such an enthusiastic acceptance, Irene can’t help herself as she presses a kiss to her lips, just as enthused. Particularly excitable, she practically scrambles off of the bed in joy, leaving Sylvia dumbfounded, but as soon as she was able to pull herself together, she peered down from the bed to see Irene holding up one of her own rings towards her. She was down on one knee and everything, her heart fluttering despite their risky decision. Perhaps brash, perhaps foolish. But if anything, it was motivated by love. And that is something both women had plenty of for each other.

“I know this is your favorite ring of mine,” Irene explains, “so it’s why I wanted to propose with it. To make it special. I’d hate to give my wife something she didn’t like!” She knew they wouldn’t be married in the eyes of the law or most people, but that didn’t bother her. What really mattered to her was their happiness as a couple, and if that meant proposing and living together as if they were any other couple, so be it. “Your wife!” Sylvia gasped, her eyes bright and wet with tears as she sat up, her hands flying to cover her mouth, as if to suppress a sob. “Oh, Irene, yes!” Her answer was muffled, but it didn’t matter to Irene, who stood up to wipe Sylvia’s tears away. 

“Hey, I didn’t even get to ask the question!” She jests, trying to make Sylvia laugh. She gives in and holds out her hand for Irene to place the ring on her finger. She contentedly sighs, admiring how it shone in the soft light of Irene’s room. It was such an intimate moment, the two of them alone with no one to judge them or pry them away from each other. With that, she was grateful that Irene chose such a place, away from the busy outside world. They would’ve garnered too much attention, but here, it was special. She felt special. Irene had such a way of making her feel like that. 

Sylvia couldn’t waste another moment, pulling Irene into a kiss, throwing her arms over her shoulders and behind her neck. Irene, as giddy as a girl, whispers to her when they manage to pull themselves away, “I can’t wait for our honeymoon.” To that, Sylvia’s cheeks burn bright pink as she playfully hits Irene on her shoulder. Even then she finds herself giggling and nodding along.

“Me neither.” 

Oh, Grimsby, a thousand delights Couldn't match the sweet sights ! Oh, my Grimsby ! Oh, England you're fair, But there's none to compare with my Grimsby !

[oceanlipgloss]

TALISMAN

LUKE. (PLATONIC)

+ warnings: angst, implicit mentions of eventual death.

+ my mc is the heroine, so the pronouns are feminine.

Wide went the little angel's eyes, like two big blueberry pies. In the whirlpool, gold and blue swirled together.

Her clarification had shocked him; what did she mean, she wouldn't be going to heaven? She couldn't possibly have chosen the devils!

He wanted to believe that, as much as she loved the seven rebels, in the end she would make the right decision. Yet, no ghost of a lie haunted the warmth of her chocolate eyes.

It was true that he had come to welcome some demons into his heart and accept the sinful shortcomings of others, but he would not stand for something so preposterous.

How could he let such a pure, kind soul—her soul, nonetheless—reside in the underworld and nestle in the hands of dark creatures, never to be blessed again? That was beyond wrong; it crossed all boundaries and spiralled into sin.

Resolve sparked within him. He would protect her from damnation; there had to be a manner in which he could convince her!

His hope withered too early, however.

She told him about how the decision was never hers to make; it had already been taken for her since birth, or perhaps long before that. And if she had somehow ever had that sort of chance, it slipped through her fingers the moment she forged her first pact; after all, was any bond with a demon not a dagger to one's oath to God?

She said that she loved the fallen angels who had long ago been banished by his Father, and no exception was their gentle blond brother—deeply she cherished them all; they were her treasure. Wasn't she also much too fond of hell's cunning prince and his quiet butler, he whose powers may rival those of the Lord? They were such dear friends to her.

There was one secret she would quietly hold until she lay in her grave, though. The little boy, like everyone else, needed not know of it. So, if that secret ever found itself on her tongue, she would again swallow it, no matter how bitter.

She would not talk about her unconditional love for the demon that had once saved the young angel's life—the demon whom the angel himself had thanked and praised. Why must anyone know about how that love sweetened the marrow in her bones and made her heart ache? Such a thing would give them nothing but pain.

And the child!

Taking his innocent faith into her grasp and crushing it was too cruel a feat. It was for his own sake—knowing her truth—but she still recoiled at the heartbroken look on his sweet face. Did that not mean that she had tampered with his faith in her, in a way?

By nudging him towards reality, she was protecting him, giving him a talisman—her own blessing—that warded off greater disappointment; and yet, there were times when even a shield could turn into a double-edged sword. But despite it being so, she did not regret attacking his hope, as that was for the best—salvation from falling victim to false dreams.

After all the young angel had heard, nothing remained vague. She saw silver flecks of awareness sprinkle his gaze. He was sad—so much so that he could see how, for some time, sorrow and melancholy would ever so indulgently keep stealing the opportunity and robbing him of his motivation to bake.

For in his Father's eyes, once a human binds themself to even one demon, they sever their ties with him. What did his Father think, then, of the human who not only shared pacts with the angels that had once rebelled against his rule, but offered them the purest form of her affection, too?

Now, she silently asked herself: what did the Lord think of her, the human who was hopelessly in love with a demon—in love with him beyond all hope and reason?

Tears glittered in the child's blue eyes. It was all true—her care towards the damned and the sinners. Everything she had done smeared her luck and sent her on the path of one fate and no other—but it wasn't fair. All that time, kindness had been her sole guide.

Unfair. No matter how much he tried not to dwell on it, the word stuck to him like a leech. Doubt might cause him to question his Father's law, his judgment...that wasn't only not right; it was an apple absolutely forbidden. He vowed not to allow himself a single bite.

Still, when he had once imagined days in the Celestial Realm in which he would show her around his homeland and they would whip up desserts for Michael together, when he now thought about how even Simeon was allowed up there no longer, it was hard not to cry. He felt all alone, like the loneliness was constricting his fragile form.

Thinking about her destiny up ahead was also too much to bear. He wished and wished that there was some way to change things, but it was merely a fool's errand. A pretty hope he one day had. He knew that now.

His Father always ensured that everything was right, perfect and lovely; and even though her fate would keep her by the side of those she loved and so give her the truest of happiness, it was still vile, unjust and distressing. Would he really be able to leave her to its claws that were hungrily waiting?

+note: I've always thought it funny how Luke and Simeon sometimes talk like MC is going to heaven—even though that's impossible; so, I gave the subject a painful twist.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[vergeltvng]

Bold what applies to your muse Masterpost

BOLD what applies to your muse, ITALIC what applies sometimes/depends, STRIKETHROUGH what never applies.

SEVEN SINS FOR YOUR MUSE

LUST: desire for connection, pursuit of pleasure, emotional intelligence, obsessive, lovesick, one-night stand, seductive encounter, flirtatious conversation, erotic party, seductive attire, revealing clothing, passionate gaze, provocative makeup, sensual expressions, suggestive gestures, flirtatious smiles, lingerie, love letters, perfumes, provocative behavior, love poems, erotic art

GLUTTONY: indulgence in experiences, savoring moments, hospitality, generosity, hedonism, culinary expertise, wine tasting, excessive snacking, overloaded plates, excessive portions, bloated stomachs, messy eating, greasy fingers, full tables, indulgent spreads, overflowing cups, satisfied expressions, wine bottles, can't get enough, fast food wrappers

ENVY: motivation, competitive spirit, strategic planning, observational skills, bitter, rivalry contest, envious gossip, resentment-filled argument, social media jealousy, furrowed brows, clenched jaws, side-eye looks, pursed lips, tense posture, whispering behind backs, crossed arms, gossip magazines, keeping up with the joneses, the grass is always greener, feeling inadequate

GREED: resourcefulness, entrepreneurial spirit, negotiation, materialistic, aggressive investment, lavish spending spree, resource hoarding, get-rich-quick scheme, auction bidding war, property acquisition, piles of money, overflowing wallets, luxury items, locked safes, penny-pinching, rare collectibles, selfishness, unwillingness to share

SLOTH: calmness, stress management, nonchalance, relaxation techniques, lethargic, apathetic, inactive, lazy weekend, binge-watching marathon, neglected chores, skipped workout, long nap, lounging on the couch, missed deadline, unkempt appearance, messy hair, pajamas, blankets, slippers, procrastination station, self-care routines

PRIDE: confidence, self-assurance, self-respect, dignity, public speaking, self-promotion, arrogant, conceited, egotistical, self-important, vain, boastful speech, puffed chest, raised chin, smug smiles, spotlight, tooting your own horn, showing off, refusing to admit mistakes, feeling entitled, personal branding, leadership development

WRATH: assertiveness, decisiveness, strength, intensity, boundary setting, courage, indignant, heated argument, road rage incident, physical altercation, angry outburst, clenched fists, glaring eyes, tense muscles, raised voices, reddened faces, aggressive gestures, stormy demeanor, intense frowns, destructive actions, broken objects, punching bag, out for blood, fists, simmering anger

tagged by @merry-andrews (@homelander-rp-blog)

CHARACTER QUIRKS & HABITS

likes artificial watermelon ·  sleeps in what they are already wearing  ·  eats their cereal with milk ·  listens to music with earbuds  ·  hates the summer  ·  can recite past the first four digits of pi ·  eats frosting out of the jar  ·  doodles on their notebooks  ·  can bake cookies  ·  has a garden  ·  has had a snowball fight  ·  eats pancakes without syrup  ·  prefers shorts over pants ·  can name more than ten superheroes  ·  has a plan for the zombie apocalypse  ·  uses the same password for everything  ·  can’t hold their breath for more than fifteen seconds  ·  watches anime  ·  hasn’t read harry potter  ·  can say ‘ I love you ‘ in more than one language  ·  prefers mechanical pencils  ·  thinks space is cool  ·  takes personality tests more than once to make sure  ·  CAN'T TIE THEIR SHOELACES!!  ·  has a purse  ·  likes salads  ·  likes cool colors better than warm colors  · knows how to braid hair·  reads biographies  ·  can ice skate  ·  knows their mbti  ·  reads astrology charts  ·  prefers the star wars prequels to the original trilogy  ·  plays video games  ·  reads the newspaper · likes chocolate ice cream best ·  doesn’t [usually] cuss  ·  memorizes song lyrics  ·  collects coupons  ·  has a preferred order at starbucks  · likes movie theater popcorn ·  has seen a play  ·  listens to music with headphones  ·  owns a hoodie  ·  would rather own cds than online copies  ·  has written a poem  ·  can shuffle cards  ·  subscribes to a magazine  ·  double dips when eating  ·  drinks directly out of the container · keeps a journal

tagged by @vikasgarden

IN BATTLE [...] YOUR MUSE

fights honorably | fights dirty | prefers close quarters | prefers range | chats during | goes silent | low pain tolerance | high pain tolerance | attacks in bursts | attacks steadily | goes for the kill | aims to disarm | fights defensively | strikes first | is provoked easily | provokes their opponent | teases | stays quiet | gets visibly frustrated | shouts while attacking | uses strategy | focuses on the battle | experiences conflicting thoughts during battle | rushes in recklessly | tries to read their opponent before engaging | fights wildly | fights calmly | fights apathetically | fights with anger | fights with excitement | fights because they have to | fights because they want to | fights without regard to wounds | runs away when wounded | hides wounds | takes a blow to protect another | prefers a blade | prefers a gun | prefers hand to hand combat | prefers a bow | prefers a shield | prefers a spear | prefers a personalized weapon | prefers magic or spells | their greatest weakness is physical | their greatest weakness is mental | their greatest weakness is emotional | transforms for battle | fights as they appear | relies on strength | doubts their strength | relies on speed | uses everything they have | proceeds with caution | hides their full potential | exhausts quickly | has high stamina l behaves arrogantly | brags after landing a hit | belittles their abilities | stays quiet | uses psychological tactics | uses brute strength | avoids civilians | strikes down civilians | damages surroundings | avoids damaging surroundings | signature fighting style | makes it up as they go | mastered skillset | learning their skillset | fancy footwork | sloppy footwork | messy fighter | elegant fighter | accepts defeat | refuses defeat | begs for mercy | compliments their opponent | insults their opponent | uses unnecessary movements | moves efficiently | barely moves | prefers to dodge | prefers to block | defends their blindside | has no blindside | leaves blindsides vulnerable | uses all available advantages | strictly uses one main method | plays around | holds back | fights ruthlessly | shows mercy | waits for an opponent to be ready | strikes when opponent isn’t ready | fears death | fears pain | fears killing | has ptsd | avoids fighting | has lost a fight | has won a fight | has killed | refuses to kill | wants to die standing | would succumb slowly

tagged by @heartofglass-mindofstone @vikasgarden

MUSE AESTHETICS: HORROR EDITION

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. black and white. powder puffs. red lipstick. winged eyeliner. white kitten heels. black lace lingerie. icy blue eyes. rain. abandoned cars. skeletons. acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades. strangling. overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents. private detectives. dinner parties. haunted mansions. alcohol in glass decanters. cobwebs. perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars. dust. dark alleys. empty streets. driving at night. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation. zombies. serial murder. paranoia. the city. witches. the devil. cannibalism. conspiracies. amulets. abject terror. the american south. the american northeast. england. analog cameras.

𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. gaslights. corsets. ballrooms. candlelight. mist. starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets. horse-drawn carriages. mysterious strangers. bogs. moors. forests. mountains. castles. velvet. silver. brass. gold. jewels. domino masks. the opera. dangerous romances. tragic romances. violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows. crows. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night. capes. gloves. top hats. straight razors. lightning. pipe organs. underground caverns. bats. mice. rats. ravens. cats. pearls. attics. talismans. axes. wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves. ghosts. coffins. western europe. eastern europe. bones. churches. catacombs. mausoleums. spiders. books.

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒. bloodbaths. massacres. wanton nudity. newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets. converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires. lakes. babysitters. suburbia. high school. lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. outdated television sets. nightmares psychiatrists. hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. household objects turned into improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. character masks scrunchies. queerness. wild curls. jeering children. parties. fire. swearing. revulsion. california. the american midwest. ambulances.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. malevolent spirits. seances. spells. missing bodies. hidden graves. white noise. static. flickering lights. rings of salt. demons. poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings. cold air. mausoleums. wells. urban exploration. a dog barking at something you can’t see. black ooze. old photographs. faces you can swear you’ve seen before but can’t for the life of you figure out where. dark bodies of water. crucifixes. priests. possession. exorcisms. dolls.

𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐃 & 𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑. aliens. blinding light. dark woods. driving at night. claw-marks. bite-marks. men in black. memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones. video cameras. cars with tinted windows. abandoned houses. unlabeled cassette tapes. bugs. big cities. urban crimes. clowns. something rustling outside your window. glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia. mirrors. the american pacific northwest. the american midwest. hiking / backpacking.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒. daylight. fluorescent lighting. morgues. asylums. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms with no one inside them. a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes. paperwork. anagrams. codes. convicted killers. missing persons. law enforcement. federal agents. small towns. suspicion. paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots.

tagged by @vikasgarden

HOW DOES YOUR MUSE CARRY EMOTIONS?

ANGER. jaw clenching, hands balling into fists, teeth grinding, yelling, going non-verbal, stuttering speech, rushed speech, slow concise speech, rambling, quiet, arms crossing, shaking head, tearing up, animated, expressionless, projects, internalises, vents, withdraws, passive aggressive, direct, physical outbursts, verbal outbursts.

JOY. easy smiles, fighting back grins, suppressed laughter, loud laughter, giggles, chuckling, smirks, whole body laughs, covers mouth when laughing / giggling, throws head back when laughing, slaps leg, touches people around them when laughing, looks down when laughing, looks for eye contact when laughing, sparkling eyes, bubbly happiness, quiet subtle happiness, obnoxious happiness, wants to spread joy, quietly savours joy.

SADNESS. crying, bottling it up, seeks distractions, wallows, meditates, trains and processes, avoidance, seeks out comfort, withdraws, talks it out, internalises it, sad smiles, depression naps, uses alcohol, uses drugs, seeks out sources of joy, fidgets with sentimental item, sits in silence, broods, gets moody, wants someone to share the misery, tries to hide negative emotions, nurtures others to make themselves feel better.

EMBARRASSMENT / SHAME. blushing, looking away, rubbing at back of head, covering face, laughing nervously, laughs it off, overthinks, lets it go, self-deprecating humor, deflects, gets irritated, smiles, withdraws, crossing arms over stomach, crossing arms over chest, hands in pockets, shoulders sinking, shrugs, falling into silence until comfortable again, talking a lot to compensate.

GUILT. avoiding eye contact, shoulders sinking low, head hanging down, crying, chest aches, lashes out, internalises, apologises, deflects, communicates, withdraws, grand gestures for forgiveness, accepts fault easily, punishes themselves, martyrdom, victim complex, guilt complex, healthy conscience, internalises even after forgiveness, seeking redemption, moves on easily, denial, lack of guilt / conscience, sorry they got caught more than caused harm, can’t handle knowing they hurt others.

FEAR / ANXIETY. trembling, crying, sarcasm / sass to cope, rambles, goes silent, gets angry, fidgeting, clenching jaw, picking at nails, chewing at lip, pulling at clothes, adjusting jewellery / clothing, swallowing thickly, eyes widening, over-reacts, under-reacts, calm, logical, panic, irrational, overthinks, carefully analyses, talks to themselves, breathing exercises, flight, fight, withdraw, fawn.

tagged by @vikasgarden

TYPES OF PEOPLE: WEATHER

𝐈. 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍:  melancholy at best,  introspective,  severely misunderstood, pleasure in the subdued, helping in your own way, dreams in poetry, the slowness of falling asleep, refreshing meditation.

𝐈𝐈. 𝐒𝐔𝐍: sunbleached clothes,  futures that are too bright,  everything at arm’s length,  balancing intensity,  blind encouragement,  comfort of sleep,  distracting sunspots in your vision,  necessity of growth.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌: chaos with a purpose,  emotions running high,  natural comfortable anarchy,  high volume, leaving your mark,  brief flashes of violence,  rambling quickly,  the intensity of desire.

𝐈𝐕. 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃: running towards instead of away,  instinctive motivation,  making an impact,  knows everyone who knows anyone, playful pranks, mood swings in a split second,  collecting old trinkets,  uncontrollable focus.

𝐕. 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖:  serene on the surface,  cold blooded heart,  love it or hate it attitude, good memories, heavy discussions,  sharp determination,  relentless resolve,  not as scary as it seems.

tagged by @merry-andrews (@homelander-rp-blog)

[avalost]

Character development exercise: identity your OC's deepest motivation!

Ran into this with the quest where Medreth asks you to find Nyfre (Cat and Mouse). Watcher Siobhan is a rogue with a drifter background from Aedyr, a back alley type who's constantly sticking her fingers in too many pies. She's on the run from her old thieving grounds because she got too cocky and curious, and got caught. Now she's trying to start over in the Dyrwood - not any more honestly, just fresh.

But even though she's curious, she isn't foolish. She knows the value of a powerful ally in the shadows. Naturally, she got in with House Doemenel at the first opportunity. Lifted the Heart of the White March; assassinated Marshal Wenfeld (and planted the Dozens token too). A payday, and powerful allies? Oh, absolutely.

But then she ran into Medreth, who directed her after Nyfre. And she found Nyfre, and talked to her. And Nyfre said all she'd done is steal from the Doemenels.

I had to put the game down for a while about this. Siobhan values the security of powerful allies, yes. But she would see herself in Nyfre in a big way. Just a thief, trying to make a (dis)honest living in the world. Would she double-cross the Doemenels about this? After she had just gotten in good with them?

And here's where we come to her deepest desire: to go home.

She's never had a home. She would deny up and down that she ever wants one. But deep deep down, she wants a place to return to, and to not have to run anymore.

That means there's no way she'd oust Nyfre from her territory. She couldn't do to Nyfre what had been done to her. The concept of home, however nebulous, is the most valuable thing to her. More valuable than alliances and power and security.

So she let Nyfre go, and lied to Medreth about it.

[tobiasdrake]

Let's go spring the trap, Shinigami. We were told to come alone, but he didn't count on you. Of course, until a murder happens you're practically useless so it's not like it matters either way.

Hey, if he kills me but I don't see it happen, do we still get to go into the Mystery Labyrinth and solve the mystery of my death? Retaliatory soul-reaping?

No promises. When a man's duty calls him to die, his time is... to... death beckons at his... *trips over the curve of the ramp and faceplants into hard steel*

We've been at war with Amaterasu since Chapter 0. Where have you been?

*crosses fingers* Dead in his penthouse. Dead in his penthouse. Come on, it'd be such a cool case, after all that time establishing that no one can get in!

I mean. I. Have. The umost respect for the sanctity of life.

Oh goddammit, why are you alive!? Piss in my cornflakes and call it rain, why doncha.

Ugh. Fine. We can do this your way. Come on, Yuma, let's get in the car with the mysterious masked grown-up who's invulnerable to consequences. Look, it's even the color of amber for that special poetic touch.

Sir, I am only...

...

...

...a number of years old. Wow, you don't realize what amnesia takes away from you until you stop to think about mundane life tasks.

Yuma's stunned by this revelation but honestly, what would even be the point? If the highly recognizable Amaterasu CEO Makoto Kagutsuchi showed up to Amaterasu DMV, would you have the nerve to fail him on the driver's test?

If they're going to pass him no matter how he performs then it'd be a pointless formality to even bother going through the motions. Things work differently when you're the king.

The closer we get to it, the more this place gives me a Shinra vibe.

You can only get in or out of the compound with a biometric scan. That feels like it's going to be important. We need to keep that in mind.

Also, I'm surprised Makoto takes his mask off for something. So it does come off at times. I was beginning to think it was glued to his face.

Massive Shinra vibe. But at least they aren't draining the life essence of the planet to power the city.

...or, shit, maybe they are. We don't know where the Forever Rain fueling the hydro-electric generators came from. I shouldn't make assumptions.

At the very least, we can be confident that they will not try to make one of our friends fuck a tiger. 80% confident. 70% at the least. I... don't actually know how homunculi are made....

...Yakou should prepare himself to have a bad night. Not because of that. Well, not only because of that. But also because I'm going to try and sneak away so I can rub my ass on Yomi's desk. IT'S CALLED SPITE AND MAYBE YAKOU SHOULD TRY IT SOME TIME.

Man, Japanese evil corporate architecture is amazing. They have trees growing in their plaza. Look at all this. It's a mini-mall's worth of space dedicated to their lobby alone.

I've worked for evil megacorporations for my entire career. I was at a big-name finance institution when the economy collapsed. All we got was a small entrance area containing one lobby desk and a security guard who doesn't give a shit, and sometimes a cafeteria we can slip away to for breakfast.

I would kill to have been able to work in an environment like this. Before I worked from home, anyway. Now, if you try to make me go back to an office building, I might stab you.

That's the smell of capitalism, my man. The product of a thousand underpaid and underappreciated workers who come in the night to erase the traces of humanity left behind and sustain the illusion of an unblemished mechanism.

I'd meet them sometimes when I was pulling late hours to eliminate backlogs of work that my colleagues' lack of motivation and commitment to the organization would eventually produce. Before I got fired for not working hard enough.

Wait, would that even--

Oh, who am I kidding. This is a company town. Of course child labor is normalized.

Makoto keeps hammering this point, and he's right. This is the single most important piece of any disguise. It's Trespassing 101: If you carry yourself with confidence and act like you belong, most people won't question it.

They only become suspicious if you look out-of-place. That usually means acting like you're doing something you aren't supposed to. Though, regrettably, it can also mean "visibly being a member of a marginalized demographic", even if you in fact do belong here.

Gonna go out on a limb here and say this is probably not the Restricted Area that Kurumi was talking about earlier. Seems unlikely.

Man, the tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife. Waiting for the shoe to drop. Just. Waiting.

[astarab1aze]

starter / @malafxde

"Soooo- Y'wanna go, ma chiquita?" He'd offered to take her to Salem's Crossing, seeing that she was a witch with ties to Salem, though he didn't know to what extent or what that meant in truth. Through observation, perhaps he'd learn, but the energy she gave off was wild, to be sure, and he felt it at his core. An ulterior motive - satisfying his curiosity - but there was a glimmer of something sincere there, too. She'd have enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the town, how everything and nothing was quite what it seemed, popping into Fleur's or Gretle's for a box of frankenleeches and boo berry pies, oh and suffering the inevitable introduction to cottonmouth cakes and scarbuncle cheese ( all formal customs regarding the beginning of a friendship ), street musicians and conjurers and freaks, geeks, and weirdos just like them, nightmarkets and oddities and rare alchemical ingredients you can't get anywhere else--

She'd have a good time, and he was happy to facilitate.

He leaned in the doorway, languid and lazy like a fox bathing in a ray of sunlight, stormy gray fixing on opposing green. He wondered what she'd look like, surrounded by hybrid architecture veiled and brimming with magic, sheaves of colorful tulle and talking pumpkins, floating candles, wrought iron fences, ghostly haunts, witchlights and fireworks, fireflies, swamps, and cliffside gothica. He wondered how much she'd enjoy herself, what sort of trouble she'd get into, how well she'd adapt to the often unforgiving culture buried beneath all the charm. Fingers dipped into his haori, prying free his gold-framed traveling mirror, idly spinning it between his fingers - small a thing it was.

"S'only a goofy incantation away. Promise y'won' regret it - ya'll 'ave a good time, tha' I can promise, 'thout a doubt," he continued, grinning evermore fox-like. "Ya'll getta try all kinds o' new things, pastries especially. I know a place, an' iffin ya wanna get up t' no good... gotta few places in mind fer tha' too."

[frodothefair]

꧁ The Flowers of Mordor ꧂

Chapter 3 - The Singing Kettle

READ ALL ON AO3

SUMMARY : Sam knows he cannot tear himself in two, but Frodo's struggles after the quest are worsening. Marigold Gamgee gets a job at Bag End, and grows close to its enigmatic master. J. R. R. Tolkien meets Jane Austen meets Tess of the D'Urbervilles. CHAPTER SUMMARY: Frodo is safe at home, but reminders of the quest are everywhere. Marigold tries to get Frodo to eat, and inadvertently invents a new dish. PAIRING : Frodo/Marigold Gamgee, Frodo/Sam secondary GENRES : hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn romance, slice of life, girl next door WARNINGS: PTSD, depression, panic attacks, eating disorder, eventual spicy scenes RATING: M

PREVIEW:

He watched her deftly chop the carrots, fingers curled away from the knife. A girl grown up, her home razed and trampled over, tending to soldiers and caring now for him – a broken-down veteran of war, if you like. And then there was the image of him and Sam, lying on a rock amid flows of lava, waiting for the world to end. They were, each and every one of them, changed.

Sam’s other motive had not been lost on Frodo. In fact, Frodo had tut-tutted to himself, leave it to Sam to leave such an obvious trail of hints. He had sent his earnest, pretty younger sister to serve as Frodo’s housekeeper, cook, and when needed nurse, so surely before long her gentle ministrations would coax him back to more-or-less good health, and even if he didn’t marry (her or anyone else) and beget a large brood of children, he still would live out his days in relative contentment.

Simple, no? The plans of hobbits were never complex affairs; and the Gamgees were in no position to challenge this fact.

But this was Frodo Baggins, and “simple” was not in his fate’s vocabulary. 

He could understand Sam, of course – Sam was, as like as not, in the highest heights of Valinor after having wed Rosie, and wanted to spread the boons of female companionship. Sam could have also been repaying him in kind for the time that he, Frodo, had bodily shoved a younger and more bashful Sam into Rosie’s arms. 

Indeed, whether Sam intended this or not, his act was a repeat performance of some years ago, when Bilbo had first disappeared and before Frodo had taken up his mantle of oddity.  

No sooner had the hullabaloo of Bilbo’s long-expected party settled down, when a string of mommas and their recently-of-age daughters began to appear on his doorstep, bearing homemade dishes of every kind and lamenting how hard it must be for the new master of Bag End to be all alone in his large smial, and for his uncle to have disappeared in such a bizarre manner.

They were all nice enough lasses, except for the few who looked at Bag End like it was already their property. But in the end they had not much more than food and domesticity on their minds, and like the majority of hobbits past their tweens, their eyes would glaze over when matters beyond the borders of the Shire were discussed. The more polite and motivated ones tried to hide it, but by thirty three Frodo was a fair judge of character. So he acted charming, served afternoon tea, and sent them on their way. Eventually, they stopped coming and he breathed a sigh of relief, for he no longer had to scratch his head at how to dispose of dozens of pies of varying quality, without — the anathema! — of resorting to food waste or risking the pies’ originators finding out.

That felt like a thousand years ago.

That said, unnatural privations and inhuman torture of the quest nonwithstanding, Frodo was still a red-blooded hobbit and he did have shame (a great deal of it, in fact), so the daily arrival of a pretty lass induced him to scrape himself out of bed, even after a bad night’s sleep as if he was still on the road. He would then change his clothes and bathe, which prior to Marigold’s arrival he had done only when he went out – and that was no longer often. At times it annoyed him, or felt awfully dull and unnecessary: for if at first he had merely been tired, by this time there was a dull ache in his chest all the time, and it made him feel like everything was lackluster and unimportant. His feelings, stale and sad, draped over him like a wet cloak. At times he wept, heart wracked by a nameless pain for something he could not place… or perhaps could place far too well. But in the end, lying in bed never brought him any solace. That much he already knew.

Soon enough, the two of them fell into a routine, and over the course of the first week, they unpacked two trunks, and Marigold had done some superficial sweeping — the deep-clean would come later, once the clutter was more at bay. The fireplace was once again being tended to, the laundry was steadily being sorted, the larders full, and the dishes washed. The stews were no longer a ghastly concoction of day old leftovers. Sam would come over with some regularity as well, to do the gardening and share a meal, and he mercifully kept the conversation light and the encouragement plentiful.

And Marigold noticed things, too. For instance, she had noticed that he did not like to open the shutters — the newly rebuilt Bag End had shutters — and sat away from the windows whenever he could. When she did open the shutters – for he could not very well insist that they stay closed all day – the noises from outside would make him tense up, and it was not an easy thing to hide, try as he might to breathe as slow and deep as he could, as the elven healers had taught him.

Of course, Marigold made no indication that she noticed, but simply asked, “Mr. Frodo, have you thought about getting eaves? They’ll keep the sun out and keep the nice furni-shins from losing color, if you follow me, without making it black as night.” She had given a winsome smile. “And keep curious folk from peeping in, of course.”

And Frodo breathed a sigh, for there had never been any eaves at Bag End, but it was a very natural thing to have. So they lost no time in commissioning some from Michel Delving. Sam summarily put them up when they arrived. 

In fact, though grown and trained into a trade, Marigold still had an artlessness about her, that under normal circumstances would have amused him – if amusement was not an emotion like a broken string.

“Lor’ bless me, Mr. Frodo, these are not all clothes!” she had exclaimed when they got to the trunks that contained his wardrobe – and previously Bilbo’s before him.

She then quickly looked away and bit her knuckle, like a child caught stealing dessert. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean–” 

Frodo came to kneel by her side.

“No need to be sorry,” he said. “Most of these are Bilbo’s.” He remembered being amazed, himself, that Bilbo had several rooms devoted to clothes when he first moved to Bag End.

He fingered an embroidered waistcoat, wistfully, thinking of the old hobbit. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to give them away, though, so I’ve been lugging them from place to place. They probably don’t even fit me.” 

Marigold, for her part – he had already noticed – had only three dresses, and one looked like it had been made “to grow into,” the hem let out several times. But he could not discern envy in her manner – the envy that, in most other hobbits, had made him so often devolve into awkward throat-clearing and euphemisms like “comfortable.” She took out a dinner-jacket and held it up to the light, running her fingers over the cross-hatched stitching of the velvet collar. She looked like she had been allowed, as a Yuletide present, to actually touch one of the exhibits at the Mathom House.

“Well, if that’s the case,” she finally said, “we had best pre-serve them, if you get my meaning.” She placed the jacket on the dining table, and smoothed out the fabric. She squinted and shook her head. “It’s creased, from lying folded up so long, begging your pardon. But I know just the thing.” 

Frodo had devolved into memories of Bilbo, feeling sick at heart, so he looked up only reluctantly. His poor old uncle’s mind was starting to get addled, and he didn’t even write letters anymore.

“Steam,” said Marigold simply. 

“Steam?”

“Yes, sir. It releases wrinkles – all’s needed is some gentle pulling. If you don’t mind, I’ll unpack these, and then I’ll need to take the bathroom for a spell. It will take boiling a might of water for a long time, but the creases should come out, and then we can hang them up nice and neat.”

Frodo said he did not mind. A part of him wondered why he hadn’t hired a housekeeper sooner. But though she was a delightful, resourceful creature, and the hobbit-hole was starting to feel brighter with her presence, he suddenly wanted to be left alone. She seemed to sense that, and set to work without another word.

She cooked expertly, too, and made herself at home in the kitchen — with the enthusiasm expected of any hobbit maid — but Frodo soon realized this could prove a problem.

The hobbits were not the most technologically advanced lot, but when it came to cooking and preparing food, they had more appetite for innovation than most. Enter, to that end, the whistling kettle: an excellent way to know, from the other end of a sizeable hobbit-hole, that the tea was ready to be brewed, whatever pursuit one was lost in at that moment. Frodo owned one of these new-fangled contraptions, purchased before his adventure at some expense from the dwarves, and as a hobbit and a fairly thoughtful one with money for his caste, he did not have the heart to make it a mathom when he came back to the Shire, only to realize that the kettle’s whistle sounded, chillingly, like a Nazgul cry. At first, he had tried to pry out the mechanism that made the whistling noise, but to no avail – this is where he cursed his stubby fingernails. He then tried to ignore the distressing association, but soon found that the sound never failed to throw him into a cold sweat. At one point his vision actually turned dark and he felt faint, the black armor and black hoods appearing in his mind’s eye.

He had climbed Mount Doom, and taken on sword, sting and tooth, only to be undone by a tea kettle at home. The irony was too painful for words.

Eventually, he tried to go without tea altogether – for getting another kettle meant going out, and once a few wealthy hobbits had learned of his acquisition they had wanted to have the same, so Frodo had been instrumental in brokering a deal between the dwarves and the local metalsmith, who had put the kettles up for sale. The metalsmith could not have forgotten his role in the affair, so undoubtedly he would have been curious why, suddenly, Mr. Baggins would want a plain kettle. But then he got easily cold, even in the summer now, and warm drinks settled him down when he was tense or restless. And in the end, he could not go without his favorite comfort – though in his present state he could not always bring himself to care about the finer points of it all, or even the less fine points, such as not leaving the brew in the pot overnight. He was, after all, an enthusiast of tea just as many hobbits were enthusiasts of pipe leaf, so he took up waiting in the kitchen and snatching up the kettle the moment the water began to churn.

Marigold’s arrival would complicate things a bit. 

The kitchen would now be her domain, and beyond showing her where things were kept, he really did not have much business being there. He considered giving the kitchen a wide berth, but this would not look natural either, and yet if he came too close at the wrong time…

In the end, he settled on saying he was particular about making tea himself, and that the special dwarvish kettle was for tea and nothing else. (At times, he thought to himself, a reputation for oddity was quite convenient). Marigold, certainly, accepted the circumstances without question, so every day prior to their afternoon tea, or indeed whenever he felt like a spot of something warm, he took up joining her in the kitchen. 

He soon found that pretending to read and watching her, bustling about by the hearth, her movements skilled and spare, was calming in a way. She didn’t hum or sing like many hobbits did while cooking, but the clop-clop of the knife, the rustle of herbs and the clink of plates felt like conversation enough. Just like Sam, she was unassuming and generally easy to be with. 

In their early days, Marigold would sometimes go on walks with him and Sam, when Sam was called upon to mind her, and she was always well behaved but shy – more eyes and ears than mouth, they said of hobbits like her. (Though, if Sam was to be believed, she had some secret mettle on her, having bitten a chunk out of his leg when the two were very young hobbits). And as she grew older, she was still more reticent than the average hobbit lass, but apprenticeship had settled well on her. He had seen her grow more expressive and cheerful over the years, and she was now given to standing up much straighter, and taking charge of things much more readily. He wagered she could find a way to talk to anyone now, and convince them that all would be well in the world.

Well, almost anyone. He himself still felt like one wrong step, and she would go running back to Bagshot Row, never to speak to him again, not even to meet his eyes in the street.

Though, would she?

He watched her deftly chop the carrots, fingers curled away from the knife. A girl grown up, her home razed and trampled over, tending to soldiers and caring now for him – a broken-down veteran of war, if you like. She had been in the Lockholes, too, when he had liberated the prisoners – and emerged looking certainly worse for wear, so he could only imagine what other horrors she had endured. And then there was the image of him and Sam, lying on a rock amid flows of lava, waiting for the world to end. They were, each and every one of them, changed, and so it went. 

But like many clever, artless people, Marigold was also curious. So in the end, in spite of his efforts, her question was still not long in coming. 

“Mr. Frodo,” she said, perhaps on the third day of the second week, “I couldn’t help but he curious about something, begging your pardon.” The two of them were in the kitchen – Frodo taking his tea, and Marigold preparing dinner. 

Frodo’s stomach felt cold, and dropped into his knees. But he gathered up his courage to reply.

“Go on, Mari, what are you curious about?” he said, trying to make his tone light. “Curiosity is a virtue.”

Everything felt a little farther away than it should have been. 

“The kettle, begging your pardon.” Marigold looked up from the cutting board and gave a small smile. Her hands were covered in flour, as she had been working with the dough.

“You always take it off right as it starts to boil, not letting it sit for a moment. Is that a better way of doing things? If so, I’d love to learn to make tea better.”

Is that a better way of doing things.

Marigold’s speech (just like her brother’s, for that matter) never sent one searching for the dictionary, but the brilliant arrangement of eight simple words was healer-speak and no mistake. He had interacted with enough healers by now to know that they held as some common professional duty to ask questions that allowed their charges to save face, if face needed saving. 

He nearly wept with relief. Perhaps Sam knew what he needed better than he did himself.

“Yes, indeed it is,” he replied. “When I was abroad, I learned some varieties of tea need to be brewed with water that’s just barely boiled. Let it get too hot, and the leaves get scorched. They even say, ‘a kettle left long on too long will sour the pot’.”

He felt ill at ease, lying like that, but it proved easier than he thought.

Marigold nodded pensively. If she thought this was odd, her face did not betray it.

“That’s why, coincidentally, they sometimes install whistling mechanisms,” he went on. “And they sound awful, too, because it’s meant to warn you when the water’s gotten too hot. That kettle has one of them, but I don’t like the sound of it, at all.”

The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. Maybe he couldn’t tell such a black lie to Marigold Gamgee after all.

“Well, goodness me, Mr. Frodo, why didn’t you say so?” She smiled. “I can make sure the water don’t get too hot, so you needn’t trouble yourself.”

“Ah, but I do want to trouble myself,” Frodo returned, shrugging his shoulders. He turned his eyes away from the blasted kettle and toward the food before her. “It’s good to trouble myself from time to time, or I’d be quite useless.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Frodo, you’re not useless.” She shook her head, returning to her work. “You help a great deal.”

“Oh? How exactly?”

She shrugged. 

“You’re here. You’re in charge of the big ideas of how to run Bag End. I’m just carrying them out.” 

“Ah. Well that changes things, certainly.”

“And you help me feel less lonely, anyhow.”

She set about cutting the dough into thin, short strips. Frodo studied the several dishes before her - one filled with butter, another with grated cheese, another with eggs, and the last one with fatty bacon.

“Marigold, what are you making?”

“Oh.” She looked down and inexplicably blushed. “I— I made it up.”

Frodo raised his eyebrows. 

“I saw you weren’t eating well, sir, and putting down your fork after a few bites, and I thought it was unnat’ral, seeing how thin you are. So I says to myself: Self, how do you pack as much sub-stance as pos’ble into the fewest amount of bites?” 

“And how would you?” Frodo asked indulgently.

He had to admit, it was getting closer to dinnertime, but he was hardly hungry. Food made him dizzy and ill since he’d returned, even the most comforting of Shire-fare. This made him feel exquisitely guilty when Marigold served up what ordinarily would have been delectable pot pies, meat falling off the bone, and rich mushroom stews that made the whole house smell like heaven. Sam finished Frodo’s leftovers whenever he thought Marigold wasn’t looking, and what he didn’t finish Frodo insisted they take to Bagshot Row, but this allayed his feelings only a little.

Marigold lit up.

“Ah, well! Let me show you!”

She slid a generous pad of butter onto the pan over the fire, and it began to fizz. Next, it was the bacon’s turn, and as the hissing grew louder, Frodo winced. Mercifully, Marigold was turned away by that point. Frodo started to rack his brain for an excuse to make his escape, though it was painful – Marigold just looked so delighted. He gritted his teeth. Making up new dishes. Too clever by half… He found himself slightly irritated – without just cause, he knew, which annoyed him more still.

“In a word,” she went on cheerfully, keeping her eyes on the frying pan as she stirred the contents with a spatula, “I have the dough cut up fine, so you don’t even have to chew it, and I fry it up, letting the egg and the cheese coat it. The egg helps the cheese stick, like glue. And the bacon’s got still more fat…”

“Alright, that’s sounds wonderful, Marigold,” Frodo said, standing up hurriedly and backing away towards the door. “I very much look forward to trying it.”

The tea he had come to make had long since been drunk, and he placed the cup and the saucer in the sink.

“I have to ask Sam if he has any other requests for dinner, though, before it’s too late. I’m sorry…”

If Marigold felt slighted by the fact that her brother might not like her food, or that his actions were in direct contradiction to his words, she said nothing, and Frodo did not stay long enough to witness any further reaction. 

He rushed out, for the hissing – though not quite as high-pitched and piercing as the Nazgul-kettle – was nonetheless starting to make his hair stand on end. He sighed in relief once he was out of earshot.

Poor girl. That was not very polite – and she was trying so hard. Hobbits were not generally fond of innovation, preferring what was tried and true, but he, the odd one out and from Buckland besides, had always taken it upon himself to oppose the general trend. 

He figured he would have to make it up to her another time. For now, he had to find Sam and tell him about the tea-making customs he had supposedly learned of in his travels, and hope Sam wouldn’t ask too many questions about why he had not done the same.