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quietly-sleeping · 4 months

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Shen Qingqiu wanted to kill one of his fellow Peak Lords.

At least, that was what the rumors swirling around Cang Qiong said. The disciples couldn’t seem to agree on who the Qing Jing Peak Lord wanted to kill; just that he had sent his disciples out with an order to retrieve.

Shang Qinghua was the first of the Peak Lords to hear the rumors, his disciples had gotten more chatty than usual, the typical workload for anyone on the peak not leaving much energy to do much of anything. Other than gossip, as it turns out.

“Shizun,” His poor, overworked Head Disciple spoke up while they were sorting out yet another tower of papers into only mildly less intimidating stacks. “This disciple was wondering, has Shen-shibo said anything…worrying lately?”

“In what way, Wu Xiaoli?” Shang Qinghua didn’t stop his work, he really couldn’t, he barely had any time at all to himself after working to the bone every day, if he stopped at all he’d have to forgo sleep to get it all done. “In a murderous way?” Wu Xiaoli was hesitant as she said this, her hands barely slowing as well, what a good disciple.

“Your Shen-shibo is almost always like that, is something specific supposed to be happening?” Shang Qinghua glanced over at her, her prolonged silence stretching for a moment more before she spoke again. “In the way that most of Cang Qiong believes he is trying to capture and then kill one of his martial siblings.” Wu Xiaoli let that sit in the air for a moment before adding, “It should be fine, right Shizun?”

Shang Qinghua really regretted being reborn. “Yes, you could say that Wu Xiaoli.” He felt faint. The paperwork, just the thought of the paperwork a murder like that would spawn nearly sent Shang Qinghua into a panic attack, nausea starting to build in his throat already.

Which would lead to a visit from Mu-shidi, who while nice, was still trying to drug him with anxiety meds that Shang Qinghua did not need, thank you very much. He could feel Wu Xiaoli staring at him as he pondered how viable throwing himself off the mountain would be for knocking him unconscious, very viable, with only a mild threat of death, before she looked out the window and jolted.

“Forgive this disciple, Shizun, Tan-shijie requested a meeting about the salary allotted for building a new garden on Qiong Ding.” Wu Xiaoli hurriedly sorted the last few papers in her hands before standing and nervously brushing at her yellow robes.

“Don’t get scammed too badly this time.” Shang Qinghua said around the lump in his throat as he fished another very late work order for Bai Zhan, thank you Liu-shidi. Wu Xiaoli pouted for a moment, looking ten years old rather than nineteen before turning on her heel and marching out the door. “This disciple will try her best, Shizun!” She called out behind her.

Shang Qinghua did not hold back on the panicked sobs of dread now that his disciple was gone. He was more open with his sobbing response to issues when she was younger, but that led to a good year or so when Mu-shidi was very blatant in drugging his food and tea with anxiety meds.

The despondent Peak Lord angled himself so any tears wouldn’t hit the delicate paper covered in ink. He may have to appear red and puffy later, but by the gods that had forsaken him, he would not ruin his paperwork.

Qi Qingqi was the next to hear about the rumors. Her usually on-top-of-things Head Disciple, Shi Fa, was distracted by the adorable new addition to their Peak, little Liu Mingyan. The four-year-old giving the poor girl a run for her money.

It was amusing, but it did prove that perhaps Shi Fa wouldn’t be a great fit for Peak Lord. Which was an utter shame, the girl was perfect in every other aspect, Qi Qingqi mused on the issue for a moment before nodding to herself, a Hall Master then.

They’d do better only interacting with the students in a more detached manner, still there to advise or support the Peak Lord’s decisions. Qi Qingqi looked back down at the report that had made its way onto her desk, the handwriting hurried with ink blotches and missed strokes.

Shi Fa had heard the rumor while attempting to track down Liu Mingyan on Bai Zhan and extract her from the feral child colony that populated the Peak. One of the eldest of the feral children had been hired by a disciple of Qing Jing, needing their help since they had left the sect more often and to varied places.

Shi Fa had located Liu Mingyan and managed to contain the delightful ball of fury while gathering more information, Shen Qingqiu had ordered a fetch mission on a martial sibling. None of the Qing Jing disciples actually fessed up to which martial sibling it was, but Qi Qingqi was certain it was not one of the Peak Lords.

Since a murder had not happened during the last Peak Lord meeting, and Shen Qingqiu had been no more nasty than usual. The true question was, out of the martial siblings wandering the world, which had managed to offend Shen Qinqiu so deeply while having not stepped foot into Cang Qiong in roughly ten years at this point?

Truly, what an amusing situation, Qi Qingqi could barely keep herself from giggling like a young maiden at the possible reasons this whole situation played out. Her darling wife would suggest something along the lines of a romantic falling out, which Qi Qingqi would normally agree with, as her wife was always right, but it was Shen Qingqiu they were talking about.

Honestly, the man wouldn’t know romance if it bit him in the ass.

Shen Qingqiu heard the rumors and felt deep distaste for his gossiping martial siblings. They must be the ones to fuel this, the rumors wouldn’t have spiraled out of such control that they suggested he was hunting down a romantic partner that had scorned him.

Truly, the imagination in his disciples was utilized in everything other than their studies. He’d be much more comfortable in sending his disciples out into the world if he didn’t have to read multiple poems about bamboo after every assignment.

Other plants existed on Qing Jing, they had gardens, and they didn’t have to write about Qing Jing specifically. He could only read so many synonyms of the color green before he began to feel a deep frustration at the mere mention of poetry.

However, there had been progress, of a kind. Sightings of his wayward shidi were documented in various areas along the border between the Human and Demon realms. Shen Qingqiu was reluctant to mark them as true sightings, at least the sightings given to him by his disciples.

His network of spies, at the very least, gave more reliable sightings. He’s thrown out so many reports in the last year of a tall man with dark hair and some sort of pet. They fit the most basic description of his shidi but lacked any truly distinctive markers.

It was infuriating. Shen Qingqiu knew that his shidi wasn’t hiding on purpose at least not anymore, his shidi probably wasn’t even aware he had forgotten about their meeting. A broken promise, Shen Qingqiu seethed.

The only thing keeping Shen Qingqiu from actually ordering his spies to hunt his stupid, airheaded shidi down was that it would freak the man out, drive him into actually hiding himself. It had happened before, roughly around the time of the Qing’s ascension. The previous Ling You Peak Lord had ordered a manhunt of their youngest shidi.

The forgetful man had hidden so deeply that the previous Peak Lords were half certain he’d died in some remote hidden realm. Of course, anytime Shen Qingqiu felt like vanishing for a while, he was always dragged back.

If this continued for much longer, Shen Qingqiu might have to, with deep disgust, call in the brute to track down his shidi. Shen Qingqiu shuffled through the papers stacked neatly on top of his desk, however, other measures could be implemented before he had to rely on the brute.

He paused, long fingers tapping on the paper he was holding as he hummed thoughtfully. This could do. Qi Qingqi certainly had contacts of her own, even the sniveling rodent of An Ding had his channels. A polite request for tea from his shimei was certainly unexpected, ah her wife must be coming along.

Shen Qingqiu felt the corner of his lips twitch slightly, for a woman of such brutal background, Qi-shimei’s wife was such a stickler for formalities.

Yue Qingyuan, despite the pains he went to keep an ear and eye on his Xiao Jiu, couldn’t keep track of everything the strategist did. So when Wei-shidi mumbled over his cup of tea about a manhunt, Yue Qingyuan felt a deep twist in his gut.

He knew that Xiao Jiu had his reasons, but his Xiao Jiu had grown even more reticent since the ascension, but that had never stopped Yue Qingyuan. Wei-shidi had fled quickly, muttering about checking on a volatile sword, but the sect leader barely heard him, just nodding with a small polite smile.

Blankly he stared at the wall for a moment, lost, before he called out. “Tan Liu?” Soft steps walked towards the office, “Yes, Shizun?” Tan Liu was the oldest of the Head Disciples and her command over her shidi and shimei made Yuq Qingyuan certain she knew about what was going on.

“What is this about a manhunt?” He asked, his thumb rubbing along the teacup. Tan Liu hesitated for the barest moment before she straightened, “Shen-shishu issued a retrieval order for a martial sibling of the Qing generation. The general description has made its way to this disciple's ears, but not the name. I apologize.”

Yue Qingyuan hummed for a moment, gently setting his teacup down on the low table. Tan Liu scuffed her feet gently on the wooden boards before speaking up again, “This one knows she should have reported this earlier to Shizun, however, this one felt she didn’t have enough information or evidence.” Yue Qingyuan glanced over at her with a small smile, “This master understands, the description?”

Tan Liu relaxed slightly, before reciting the short description she had made sure to memorize. “A taller man of slight build, favors lighter colors such as white and pale blues and greens, wears a simple hairstyle, typically braided, dark green eyes, with a slightly crooked nose.” Tan Liu paused a moment before continuing, “Likely to be spotted with a creature of some sort, the creature will be tame, likely rare. Will take requests regardless of reward or how simple the request may be.”

Yue Qingyuan closed his eyes as his Head Disciple’s voice tapered out. He knew exactly who his Xiao Jiu was hunting. The man was difficult to pin down, even harder to keep in one place, the only person who had succeeded before was the man’s own Shizun, who had defaulted to tracking talismans.

“Good. Thank you, Tan Liu.” Yue Qingyuan didn’t look over at the woman as he waved his hand. They both had paperwork to return to, and she didn’t need to be standing around waiting for him to come to a decision. He heard her soft footfalls as she left the room, the door shutting behind her.

Yue Qingyuan sat in silence for a long moment, a deep exhaustion beginning to form deep within his eyes, Xiao Jiu was certainly hunting someone. Their youngest shidi in fact, someone they hadn’t managed to track down before their ascension, his courtesy name still sealed within a final letter from the Previous Ling You Peak Lord.

It had been ten years, perhaps the man had slipped out of hiding, his guard falling enough for them to herd him back to the sect. If Xiao Jiu didn’t bring this up at the Peak Lord Meeting next week, Yue Qingyuan would, if only to bring their shidi and shimei into the hunt.

Shen Yuan, the missing Ling You Peak Lord, and the youngest shidi of the Qing generation. He was still out there, at the very least, Shen Qingqiu believed he was, which knowing the man, was probably as good of evidence as Yue Qingyuan would get. A soft sigh left his mouth before he stood, his paperwork was still waiting for him, and if he was going to be ascending another Peak Lord soon, he’d need his schedule as free as possible to plan a ceremony.

part two

ao3

#svsss #fanfic #mxtx svsss #shen yuan #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #shang qinghua #qi qingqi #so sorry about my grammer #this is what i was complaining about shen jiu for #had to rewrite this from the ground up #ill post this on ao3 later but i wanted to get it out there before i over think myself into oblivion #also the time line has been altered #the qing generation ascended about 10 years before the tlj fiasco #that is relevant information later #you can blame my roommate for the bullshit i pull with qqq's wife #part 1

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the-eldritch-it-gay · 11 months

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Returning from camp after dealing with the gnolls and the fire at Waukeen’s Rest, Majexatli dropped their pack and staff at their tent and immediately went off into the trees without looking back.

Their muscles ached, not just from exertion, not just from the flames that had licked their skin, but from something unnamed, a painful restlessness, a hunger to have their bones snap and reshape into something else, anything else.

Ash and blood still stuck to their skin, their hair, their horns. They needed to clean themselves off, as they were certain their companions were also doing, likely at the water's edge closer to their camp.

While Majexatli walked, they pulled the tie and ribbon from their hair, combing their fingers through and undoing their braid, wincing as they pulled at knots and strands matted with blood.

As they began stripping off their leather armor, laying it out on a rock near the river’s edge, they heard a twig snap behind them. Majexatli froze, the warm, electric feel of imminent wildshape enveloping them, the tension radiating off them as time nearly stood still. Their ears twitched as they analyzed the sounds of the forest around them, holding themselves on the precipice there, as they listened for information, warning signs.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,”

And suddenly Majexatli was pulled back from the edge, a chill washing over their body even as they stood in the sunlight, an emptiness settling inside them even though they could still taste—

Majexatli looked over their shoulder to see Wyll, standing on the path a little ways away, hands half raised as if to show he meant no threat. Part of them hated how they believed that.

They couldn’t remember the last time someone had seen them with their hair down.

“It’s alright,” Majexatli said, even as the tension didn’t leave them, “My reflex would be to wildshape, not attack,”

Not a lie, but Majexatli didn’t know what the truth would be. Would they have run? Would they have tacked Wyll to the ground, snarling and pressing bloodied teeth to his throat? Would he fight back? If it came down to it, would he drive a rapier through their heart? Could he bring himself to? Did he already know? Did he plan on this, has he been waiting to get them alone like this so he could—

“Majexatli?”

They blinked, coming back to themselves, seeing Wyll’s face look at them with concern that cut them more deeply than a knife.

“Sorry, it’s been a long day, I’m a little… out of it,” They smiled politely, forcing their shoulders to relax as much as they could.

Sitting down on the rock, they began unlacing their boots, mimicking nonchalance, all the while watching Wyll out of the corner of their eye, every nerve in their body focused on the weight of the dagger on their hip. Wyll took a few cautious steps forward.

Is he afraid of me, or is he afraid that I am? In his eyes am I wounded prey or a predator?

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright, as soon as we got to camp, I turned around and you were already gone.”

“Apologies, I just…needed to get away,” Majexatli said, leaning back on their hands with a sigh, now stripped down to their breeches and laced tunic, rumpled and stained with blood, “I’m not used to… this. People. Before the Nautiloid I would go weeks without seeing other people, now there’s countless every day.”

Part of them wondered if he would take the bait, if his face would twist in confusion, finally piece together the lies. Don’t ask me a question where I can lie, I can’t speak the truth aloud, don’t fall for the mask, please.

“You’ve been doing quite well, if you ask me,” Wyll smiled, stepping a bit closer, “Genuinely, you’ve gone out of your way time and time again just to help people with no promise of reward. Today was no exception.”

Majexatli nodded. They could still taste gnoll blood in their mouth, the adrenaline buzzing in their veins.

Did you see? Did you watch me snap the neck of that hyena? You were horrified by the sight of the gnoll transformation, by the mindless consuming hunger. Did you condemn that hunger and politely look away from mine? Did you avert your eyes so you didn’t have to watch me tear out throats with my teeth? Rip open flesh and stain my maw red? Does it scare you? When I lifted that burning beam off that man in Waukeen’s Rest, did you know I still had raw flesh between my teeth? In my stomach?

“It hardly seemed a choice, it was the right thing to do,”

“Not everyone would see it that way,” Wyll smiled, “But I didn’t mean to intrude, I can let you be,”

Wyll bowed slightly, stepping back. It shouldn’t bother them, like they said, they were used to being alone, they didn’t like being around people, they had come this far from camp to get away from everyone. So why did their stomach drop, blood run cold as Wyll moved away?

“It’s alright, I was just going to clean myself up in the river, I’m sure you could use a dip as well, and I’m hardly standoffish about something as trivial as nudity,”

It wasn’t quite a lie.

They hoped they didn’t seem too quick in turning away, beginning to unlace their shirt and breeches. Their own heartbeat was loud in their ears, the warmth of the sun paling in comparison to the shame and anxiety curling in their belly uninvited. While they avoided looking back—not wanting to meet his eyes, not wanting to let him see the scars, not wanting to let him see the fear in their eyes—they tried their best to listen, hear if Wyll was walking away or not.

I am unarmored, I can show you which ribs you should drive your sword through. You win, show your true colors and I’ll show you mine. Please. I am the monster you are supposed to slay, don’t look at me like you are the selfless knight and I am the prince who needs saving.

Folding their clothes and placing them neatly next to their armor on the rocks, Majexatli tried to force a relaxed posture, tried to force the knot in their stomach to release.

The river's water was refreshingly cool as they stepped into it, it might have even felt nice

“You make it look easy, not catching your shirt on your horns. I suppose you have far more experience with them, though,”

They heard movement, a rustle of fabric, a disturbance in the water behind them. If they were someone else, they might not have been able to tell how far away Wyll was, a respectable distance, as though he was trying to respect their privacy, their space. Majexatli didn’t look back at him, but they glanced at the riverbank out of the corner of their eye. Wyll’s rapier lay next to his armor and clothes.

The metal of the dagger in Majexatli’s hand burned.

“It happens to everyone. They weren’t always like this, they betray my age. When I was 20 I think they were barely even starting to curve,”

You would have liked me back then, when I would giggle and blush like a schoolboy and braid flowers into my hair and sing songs of Silvanus and peace. You want them, not me.

“Really? It seems hard to picture you without the beautiful horns you have today,” There was a fondness in his voice that felt misplaced, Majexatli could hear Wyll’s smile and they hated that they wanted to turn and see it.

“You’re not alone, that was a lifetime ago,”

“I suppose I’ve never thought about it, do horns continue to grow over time?”

“Somewhat. They start to come in when you’re quite young, and usually by the time you’re an adult they’ve grown into their full shape. But they still grow a bit,”

“Yours weren’t grown in when you were 20?”

Shit. A slip, careless.

“It—it can depend. Growth can be stunted in plenty of ways,”

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to pry, you needn’t tell me anything you don’t want to share,”

Oh, he sounded so genuine, an alien feeling welled up inside Majexatli at his voice. A feeling so tender that Majexatli felt their nails digging into their palm hard enough to draw blood, their grip on their dagger turning their knuckles white as they fought an urge to rip and cut and tear into their own chest and strangle whatever was budding in their chest before it could take root.

“I don’t suppose you have any tips for caring for horns, or tails for that matter?”

“I— someone else probably has better advice than I could give. I didn’t grow up around tieflings, don’t think I even met another tiefling until I was already an adult. I’m sure I’m doing something wrong with them,” Majexatli said, another slip, a careless truth falling from their lips.

“You must be doing something right, you’re quite handsome,”

He probably even meant it.

“For the horns, a little soap and water works well, doesn’t have to be anything special. If I want to do something special, I have a balm of sorts, easy to make. You only need a bit on them, sometimes I use something to sand off the driest outer layer beforehand,”

They shrugged.

“I might have to ask you for the recipe then, sometime,” Wyll paused for a moment, Majexatli could feel him considering something, “I—as I said before, I don’t mean to pry, and you needn’t answer if you don’t want to—”

Here it comes, Majexatli thought, here’s where you drop the kind facade.

“Yes?”

“You said earlier you didn’t grow up with tieflings, I can’t imagine that was easy…”

There was a beat of silence before Majexatli responded.

“It wasn’t. For a while, I considered cutting my horns off. Same with my tail. Not that it would have changed anything, but I couldn’t stand looking in the mirror or seeing the way people looked at me like I was a monster,”

They should have lied, they knew, but the exhaustion that seeped through them was from more than just the physical.

“How did you make it through?”

I didn’t survive. Not in any way that’s meaningful. I let it consume me. If I didn’t look like this I would have been married, had a home, maybe had children. I didn’t find any meaningful lesson from my suffering. All I found was that the world is cruel and so many gods are indifferent. I spent years cutting my teeth on the bones of animals that still squirmed and cried out as I ate them raw. I’m no different than that hyena in the road, infected by hunger and reshaping my bones into something feral and monstrous.

He wouldn’t want to hear that, he didn’t want the truth, Majexatli knew. He wasn’t asking advice from them, he was asking for advice from the the gentle sage druid that they wore the skin of. He didn’t want a tragedy, he wanted a happy ending. Wyll wanted to see the light at the end of the tunnel, wanted to know things ease with time, that bodies and worries eventually settle like houses and dust. He wanted advice from the other side, not realizing Majexatli was in the dark, miles behind him.

“I realized how rare and beautiful existence can be, that I am the fruit of a tree planted centuries ago. And though it’s never easy, I remember that the hatred in my heart when I look in the mirror was not my own, is not a truth or some innate part of me, it is an echo of words spoken by others, and I should not offer those people a hoe to sow their seeds of hatred in my mind,”

There was a beat of silence, the only sounds were the water of the river, the distant chirping of birds, the rustle of leaves in the wind.

“Do you believe that?”

A soft question.

“...Sometimes,”

A half-truth.

They finished bathing in silence, Wyll returning to camp soon after.

Under the moon, hunched over an elk carcass, maw dripping red, bones crunching beneath their teeth as they split open ribs to feast on its heart, Majexatli’s eyes fell on a patch of wild lavender growing nearby, swaying ever so slightly in the breeze. They weren’t sure what gripped them when they dropped wildshape and carefully picked the flowers, trying their best to keep from staining them with the blood and bits of viscera that stuck to their hand. Nor were they sure what motivated them when they returned to camp to clear off a space on their makeshift table with their herbalism and alchemical supplies.

Majexatli had told the truth to Wyll earlier; it was a simple recipe. Even simpler mixing it with the lavender and a touch of cedar oil, carving a small wooden jar to place it in.

The moon was still high in the sky when Majexatli placed it outside Wyll’s tent as he slept inside. He would find it in the morning, knowing Majexatli left it for him. The thought was discomforting. It would be easier to slip into his tent, get him to draw his blade, bury it in their chest, let him kill the monster in self-defense. The kindness, the vulnerability felt too much, too raw, but they swallowed it down, at least that was familiar. Majexatli was used to eating things raw.

#eldritch it speaks #salam plays bg3 #oc: majexatli #wyll x tav #hiiiiiiiiii i finally finished this please clap #I might post this to ao3 later as well if ppl prefer reading things there. ill add a link when that happens

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trickstarbrave · 8 months

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this is not proofread. and i am half awake

but i have FINALLY finished the fucking. nerevoryn omegaverse au fic. no one else has written it yet, so i will be the one to bear the burden. i will commit the first sin and take all the stones you throw.

sorry that this is mostly not even smut, just me messing around with worldbuilding. i have worldbuilder's disease. i have even MORE thoughts about this setting i have inevitably left out. but. well. they fuck in the end okay

special shout out my mutual who posted an omegaverse tweet bc i was really blanking on the smut for some reason. i couldnt get it working right???? like it wasn't interesting. but we got there with the help of the tweet.

content warnings: standard omegaverse shit. heats, ruts, biting, impregnation kink, knots, you get it. omegas have vaginas as far as im concerned bc it just makes more sense to me. give it a shot as i have played with stereotypes and tried to make it interesting i hope

There were, despite the stereotypes, perks when it came to being an omega. In fact, in a way, stereotypes could be one of the perks, if you played your cards right. And if there was anything Nerevar knew how to do, it was use anything and everything to his advantage.

There was a common belief omegas were all delicate, gentle hearted peace-keepers--or worse, treasures that lay in wait for some big strong alpha to come take them. It wasn’t like there were no docile, delicate omegas, but Nerevar was certainly not the type. He could make peace all right--with persuasion and his blade however, not rolling over with his belly up begging everyone to stop fighting.

Most people thought he was an alpha given how headstrong he was and how quickly he took charge of situations. That, or he was an alpha-leaning beta given he was usually able to keep his cool in difficult situations, especially around alphas acting territorial and puffing out their chests. Nerevar never bothered correcting them either way; sure, he could turn himself into some moral champion of omegas and prove they could be just as capable politicians and warriors, but the more likely outcome was everyone he told would take him significantly less seriously. And that would mean more heads would have to roll and well, Nerevar didn’t like cleaning up messes.

He still had heats, having to retreat into his room for days at a time, but no one said anything. Just as easily he could be locked away in a rut, or praying to Azura for several days on end. No one dared question him, and only the most trustworthy attendants were allowed anywhere near his room to be able to smell the difference.

On the plus side, Nerevar had many things he used to his advantage; in all honesty, the fact people thought Nerevar was a beta wasn’t unfounded. Even when an alpha went into a rut, he was mostly unbothered by it. A bit of discomfort, not to mention he needed a long bath afterwards to get the smell off him, but unlike some omegas where the scent of an alpha in rut had them going into heat right away, Nerevar seemed mostly unaffected and could force the instinct down. And, through careful control of his mental state, he could usually calm most alphas down without them being the wiser about Nerevar’s secondary sex and wanting to take him for themselves. His seeming immunity from an alpha in rut was often the subject of multiple jokes by Almalexia, as the two of them would mostly sit around, having a few drinks in the quiet of her room. Well, that was until she took Vivec as her mate, then most of her ruts were spent with the warrior-poet instead.

Hence why, when his meeting with Voryn had been canceled last minute after he already made his way to Kogoruhn, he simply strolled to Voryn’s room, humming casually with a couple books and food for the other.

Much like Nerevar, Voryn was also an… Interesting example of an alpha. Voryn was usually pegged more so as a beta based on his behavior, until you got a whiff of pheromones when you pissed him off. He wasn’t as outwardly aggressive and territorial as far as most people were concerned, but Nerevar knew him well. He disguised it as dedication and love for his house, or loyalty to those close to him, but he was indeed territorial. And instead of outward aggression, picking fights and throwing fists, he preferred to temper his aggression and instead attack them when they least expected it. He may look like he forgives and forgets, but in truth he was a viper laying in wait to strike.

Nerevar knocked, careful not to drop the few books tucked under his arm, hearing the low growl that followed.

“Out.” Voryn hissed, and Nerevar bit back a laugh.

“It’s me,” Nerevar clarified. “I brought you some books and some food. Servants said you haven’t eaten since yesterday.” Voryn, unlike his typically cool demeanor, was vicious and snippy in a rut. Since Nerevar grew up alongside him, he knew it very well, getting chased away from Voryn’s door every time. Well, that and the servants and other members of House Dagoth would shoo him away, warning him not to go near. It was customary to keep young alphas and omegas apart during heats and ruts respectively, for good reason. No one wanted any injured teenagers or anyone carrying children way too young. But Nerevar could still see it in the aftermath—scratch marks and bruises on Gilvoth after he came to force his younger brother to eat, broken furniture, a smashed window at one point—luckily he calmed down from physical violence as he got older. If he hadn’t, he doubted Kogoruhn would still be standing with all the magic the lord knew.

“All the more reason to tell you to leave.” Voryn huffed.

“You know ruts don’t bother me.” Nerevar snarked. “Hurry up and open the door before I drop your food.”

After some groaning and growling, eventually Voryn did open the door, to which Nerevar quickly darted inside before he could take the tray and shove him out.

“You are an idiot.” Voryn groaned as Nerevar set the tray of food on the desk, before tossing the books onto Voryn’s bed. “But that’s nothing new anymore.”

“I told you, ruts don’t bother me.” Nerevar chuckled, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in the air as always. At the very least, Voryn’s scent wasn’t offensive; some alphas made him feel disgusting, if not a little nauseous. Voryn’s was much more familiar and a lot more welcomed, given he was used to it in much smaller quantities over the years. In fact, it was kind of nice; warm, a bit spicy, and nostalgic.

“I can’t help but fear you’re just playing with fire when you say things like that.” Voryn sighed, before plopping himself on the bed. He was dressed very loosely, no doubt feeling hot and antsy. Nerevar, unbothered, also sat beside him with a grin on his face.

“Come on, I’m not being that reckless.”

“You’re tempting fate, that’s what you’re doing.” Voryn huffed. “But you’ve always been like that, haven’t you? Always pushing your luck to its limits until it blows up in your face.”

“It hasn’t blown up in my face yet,” Nerevar asserted proudly. “Unlike several of Sil’s little inventions.” Voryn rolled his eyes at that.

“Because you’re constantly poking and prodding at them even when he specifically told you not to, that’s why.” Nerevar, seeing as Voryn was making a good point, instead side-stepped it entirely.

“Come on, you know you get lonely during a rut,” Nerevar instead circled the conversation back around. “Bored, stir crazy, antsy…”

“That’s the nature of a rut so I don’t rip someone to pieces.” Voryn huffed. “I’m not supposed to be relaxing and having fun but defending my territory and looking for a mate as far as my instincts are concerned.”

“Mm…” Nerevar hummed. “I heard mate does make them easier. At least, as far as Ayem told me.” Nerevar hadn’t minded his wife taking a mate that wasn’t him; in terms of sexual compatibility, Nerevar didn’t find her very appealing. Not that she was ugly or anything--far from it! She was very beautiful, tall, strong… All things an omega should be dying to have in a mate. But there was something about her scent that put him off from ever wanting to mate. Just as well, she didn’t find his scent all that appealing either, and most political marriages didn’t end in mating even in the case of alpha and omega couples.

“And I am in no mood to tear apart Vvardenfell looking for one.” Voryn scoffed, before laying down on his side. Despite doing so, however, he didn’t look comfortable in the slightest. All of his muscles were tense as he laid there, stiff as a corpse. “I have things to be doing, research to do, meetings to be had--”

“Shh…” Nerevar hushed him, scooting closer to rub his back. At the touch Voryn snarled, before slowly he began relaxing, bit by bit. “There…” Nerevar smiled fondly. “You’ll have time for all of that when this is over. It’s only a couple of days right?” Nerevar asked, before working at a knot on Voryn’s shoulder. “Roll over and I’ll rub your back. You’re way too tense.”

Despite all his huffing and snarling, Voryn did roll over, face planted in a pillow, allowing Nerevar climb on top of him to massage him. For most alphas having an omega crawling on top of them in the middle of a rut like this was no doubt humiliating, but Voryn had in fact relaxed gradually. The scent in the air turned from one of hostility and warning to more of a gentle warmth as Nerevar continued to work knot after knot out of his back.

“What research are you working on now?” Nerevar asked, hoping some light conversation would help relax him further.

“Mm…” Voryn groaned softly, fingers clenching and unclenching the blankets under him. “Dwemeri explosive powder…”

“Making it?” Nerevar asked, raising a brow.

“No,” Voryn clarified. “Dwemer machinery is required to actually… Make it.” He hummed softly as Nerevar rubbed at his lower back, working the especially tense muscles nice and slow. “Machinery far too large and complicated to fit into Kogoruhn.”

“What about it then?”

“Dwarven oil has a number of alchemical properties…” Voryn continued. “I was hoping to test if their explosive powder had any as well.”

“Without blowing up half of your stronghold, I hope?” At that, Voryn snorted, before rolling over and forcing Nerevar off him now that he was much more relaxed. With a grin, Voryn tugged Nerevar down to be laying beside him.

“Unlike you, I don’t have a track record for blowing things up unintentionally.”

“You’re back on that again?” Nerevar groaned, offended but still laughing.

“I’m not the one who brought it up the first time.” Voryn smirked. “Though tell me, how many times has Dumac saved you from nearly stepping on a landmine again?”

“You’re being an asshole right now, you know that?” Nerevar shot him a playful glare.

“Well you’re an asshole all the time and it’s never stopped you.”

And just like that, the two were at it. Was wrestling an alpha in rut a good idea? Not in the slightest. However, the two used to playfully wrestle all the time as children and even teenagers, so it was… Oddly nice to do so again as adults. Typically Nerevar would win due to raw strength alone--and he could right now, of course--but he knew it was probably a terrible idea to piss an alpha off like that in the middle of a rut. So instead, Nerevar just put up a gentle fight, knocking several of the pillows and blankets off the plush bed, along with the books Nerevar brought earlier, all the while laughing. Then, once he felt Voryn was starting to get a bit too aggressive and his movements too hurried, he let the other pin him to the bed.

“Gods…” Nerevar laughed, breathlessly. “How long has it been since we wrestled like this?”

“Decades.” Voryn replied, equally as breathless. “Mm… But oddly nice to get the energy out.”

“I told you.” Nerevar grinned. “Nice to move around, get your mind off things… Sitting there stewing in it only makes it worse.”

“Don’t tell me you go around wrestling people in heat.” Nerevar nearly choked in laughter at that.

“No!” He had to roll over onto his side, holding his stomach from giggling. “Gods, fuck no! Azura’s mercy, I’m not that insane!” Another few chuckles followed as he tried to compose himself. “I can barely stand anyone touching me once it settles in. Everything feels so… Sharp and uncomfortable.”

“Does it?” Voryn raised an eyebrow, but climbed off Nerevar to flop down beside him. “That sounds… Unusual.”

Nerevar shrugged. “It’s always been like that.” He admitted as though it were nothing. “You wouldn’t it get it being an alpha, I guess.”

“Nerevar, I may not be an omega but that doesn’t mean I’m uneducated.” Voryn was oddly stern now, concerned. “Just like how you aren’t an alpha but understand how a rut works.”

“Look, what do you want me to say?” Nerevar asked. “No healer has ever told me anything is wrong with me. It just seemed the more time that went on, the more… Painful they got?” Nerevar groaned. “Well, not really painful, I’ve found a way around it for the most part--”

“So you’re coping with it like a poorly healed injury.”

“No!” Nerevar asserted. “It’s not an injury but a normal thing.”

“A normal process that isn’t acting as normal.”

“Look,” Nerevar rolled his eyes, “You can bother the healers back at the palace about it if you’re so concerned. But I’ve adjusted just fine to my heats. I lay in bed, have all my food ready, stacks of books and what have you, and I deal with it.” Nerevar gave him a playful kick. “Unlike someone who went a whole day without eating.”

Voryn rolled his eyes, getting up from the bed. “Fine fine, I’ll eat lord Nerevar.” Voryn replied, sarcastically. He then went over to his desk, finally eating the meal Nerevar brought him.

While he ate, they still chatted and talked, Nerevar laying casually on his bed. It hadn’t been the first time he’d done it, and Nerevar expected it wouldn’t be the last with their close friendship. Even as councilman and king, Nerevar saw them as close friends above all else. The closest friend he had, honestly.

Yet, as he laid there he found himself feeling… Uncomfortable. The air wasn’t stifling after Voryn calmed down, but Nerevar’s clothes felt… Itchy. Not to mention he was starting to feel feverish. Maybe that wrestling wasn’t a good idea if he was coming down with something, but he didn’t want to leave yet--he was mid conversation, after all, and it seemed like Voryn was still relaxing more and more. But, it wasn’t long until Nerevar was tossing and turning on the bed, trying to feel comfortable. Despite being fully dressed he got that same paranoid feeling he had being out in the open on the battlefield: antsy and exposed.

“Are you alright?” Voryn had finished by now, coming to the bed to look at him.

“Yeah just--” Nerevar sighed. “Uncomfortable.” Then, realizing how that might be interpreted, tried to cover for it. “Not that your bed is uncomfortable, I just feel… Off, all of a sudden.”

“How so?”

“My clothes feel itchy--” Nerevar was already scratching at his arms, writhing slightly to try and itch at his back. “It’s not flees, I just bathed… Not to mention it’s not like, bug bite itchy but like my clothes are way too rough…”

“Stress?” Voryn asked, looking at his arms to ensure he didn’t have a rash. “I could always look at your clothes to be sure.”

“Not a bad idea.” Nerevar began pulling his shirt up over his head to hand to Voryn who combed it over. Sure enough, the clean cloth had no parasites or bugs crawling around in it, but already Nerevar felt relieved. He kicked off his trousers while he was at it, left only in his undergarments and much more comfortable.

“Well the fabric is particularly rough.” Voryn remarked. “Thick material, more so used for keeping warm and dry rather than relaxing. Rolling around wrestling in it probably irritated your skin.” Nerevar snorted at that, especially as Voryn tossed one of his own silk robes on top of him. He used to have no problem wrestling in the ash and dust, but now slightly rough fabric was what was going to do him in? Although… The silk robe was a lot more comfortable, the soft fabric almost soothing his skin as he curled up with it on and tied shut, breathing deeply. Voryn’s sheets were also nice and soft…

“You are also feeling warm though…” Voryn brought the back of his hand to Nerevar’s forehead. “Not to mention I actually beat you at wrestling…” He looked concerned, “You weren’t mucking around the bitter coast again were you? Swamp fever has been on the rise there, and I know how much you love mudcrab hunting more than your own good--” Nerevar rolled his eyes.

“I came straight here from the propylon chamber, Voryn.” He did wear weather appropriate clothes given it was the cold and rainy season in northern VVardenfell, but that was just a precaution. “I wasn’t running around the bitter coast catching mudcrabs, I can assure you.”

“Here,” Voryn stood up now, pulling the pillows and blankets back on the bed to make Nerevar more comfortable. “Why don’t you just lay down for a few minutes and see if it goes down. If not, I have a cure disease potion around here somewhere…” He then got up after piling them all back on, rummaging through his shelves stocked with an astounding amount of alchemical books, ingredient chests, and potion bottles. ‘Controlled chaos’ as Voryn would say, though Nerevar could never make sense of it. But right now he was more than content to just lay there in the pile of pillows and blankets, breathing in nice and deep as his body started to go from uncomfortably hot to warm and fuzzy.

“I found it,” Voryn kneeled beside him, beckoning Nerevar to sit up properly. He groaned in annoyance; he just got fucking comfortable, now Voryn wanted him to sit up? But one look at Voryn’s eyes told Nerevar it was just for his own good, so reluctantly and without much fuss he sat up slightly, letting Voryn tilt his head and press the potion bottle to his lips. It briefly occurred to him he could drink it himself but… Well, Voryn was just being a loyal retainer and friend right? Ever loyal, doting Voryn.. Nerevar found that trait of his kind of endearing.

“Normally when I have to give you medicine you make such a fuss,” Voryn smiled softly, “You’re being a good boy right now, I see.” At the ‘good boy’ comment Nerevar’s breath hitched slightly as he sunk back onto the bed to lay on his side, Voryn piling more of the blankets and pillows around him so he was comfortable. Then, a hand threaded into his hair, rubbing at his scalp just like Nerevar liked, making him positively melt, mewling and moaning softly in pure delight.

“That’s it…” Voryn purred, “Such a good boy, aren’t you…?” Voryn then laid down behind him, nuzzling against him, his hands brushing across Nerevar’s chest and stomach in soft strokes…

Ah, Voryn was scenting him, something that wasn’t unwelcomed in the slightest. It was nice; being wrapped up in that warm, musky scent was only making him feel better. People would be able to smell Voryn on him after all, all over his body from his clothes to his hair and skin… Then again, he felt like he never wanted to leave the comfort of Voryn’s bed right now. He was content to just lay there being tended to, Voryn nuzzling him, feeding him, guarding him…

“Oh Neht,” Voryn buried his face in Nerevar’s neck, breathing in his scent directly, before his tongue swiped at a scent gland. That caught Nerevar’s attention, making him moan louder, squirming in Voryn’s arms.

“Hey--” Nerevar protested weakly. His mind felt fuzzy, but he knew that was crossing a line at least. “Watch it.”

“You smell divine…” Voryn purred. “Nice and sweet…” He resumed the licking, leaving Nerevar whining softly, his hips moving in small circles until Voryn pressed his hips firmly against Nerevar’s ass, holding him still with a growl. His cunt throbbed at that, suddenly overcome with the realization he was empty right now, so fucking empty--he needed something in him. Right now. Fingers, a toy, a cock, just something filling him up--

Then, Voryn was pulling back suddenly, jerking his hands away as though he was burned. Nerevar looked up at him confused and dazed, Voryn’s face flushed red.

“You’re in heat.” Voryn murmured, suddenly realizing what was going on. Nerevar, however, took a few moments to process his words, before anxiety bubbled up inside him.

“No I’m not--” He wasn’t the type to go into heat smelling an alpha in rut. He had never done so before, and he wasn’t due for his heat for a few months anyways. Besides, when he was in heat he was nesting and--

Nerevar glanced at the pillows and blankets Voryn had put around him, realizing when he had done so Nerevar felt much more secure and comfortable. He’d been antsy before, paranoid and feeling exposed until the soft, plush walls were around him. He also felt more sensitive to his clothes, feeling warm and aroused--

“I-I hate people touching me in heat,” Nerevar tried to explain quickly, sitting up and panicked. “I can’t be…” That was right, he couldn’t be. He hated being touched during his heat, growling and hissing as the touch was physically painful. But Voryn touching him hadn’t hurt at all, it felt…

Nerevar’s hands were trembling as he got up quickly, tugging the robe shut firmly and making sure the tie was secure, before he took off running for the propylon chamber. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he just knew he needed to not be there anymore. Something was wrong with him after all; very, very wrong with him. He paid no mind to Voryn calling after him, even as his anxiety spiked hearing the concern and anger in his voice; he just kept running through the halls, sprinting past servants and attendants until he made it to the chamber, giving quick orders to send him to Mournhold before he was teleported away.

At the palace, Nerevar didn’t stop to catch his breath either. The air felt cold and stifling as he continued running, spriting like a mad man until he made it to his room where he swiftly locked the door. He drew the curtains, blocking out the light until it was dark, his anxiety still not ceasing. He tripped on a chair in his scramble, swearing up a storm as he kicked and snarled, breaking a leg off the chair. He then grabbed it as he stood, throwing it to the wall resulting in the wood splintering against the heavy stone and knocking several tapestries down. Now in darkness he retreated to his bed, trying to curl up to find comfort.

His bed felt wrong. Wrong, disgusting, cold, uncomfortable… Even as he moved the blankets and pillows he just felt worse. None of them were as comfortable as Voryn’s bed, covered in his scent…

Nerevar tugged the robe off, burying his face in it, whining softly. The scent, despite being musky and strong, was so comforting. He never used to find an alpha’s scent so soothing before, why now? Even when he was in heat he’d growl if any alpha even so much as came near his room, so why this? Why now?!

A few servants knocked on the door, calling for him alarmed. Then a few healers. He didn’t respond to any of them, laying there in silence, too ashamed to even tell them to leave. It felt like his skin was crawling, and he simultaneously felt both hyper-aggressive and like he had no strength in him. Then it was Almalexia, knocking.

“Nerevar?!” He growled weakly; he didn’t want anyone to see him, let alone a different alpha--no, he needed to get rid of that mindset. Voryn wasn’t special, at least, not as an alpha. Voryn was his closest friend yet, but if he didn’t want to be seen by anyone, that meant anyone. Especially not Voryn, an alpha in rut, when he was obviously in heat.

“Are you injured?” She asked. “What happened in Kogoruhn--” A few more people spoke quietly to her, their voices too hushed for him to hear. In the back of his mind, he knew it was only logical she’d ask; he did come sprinting through the palace in one of Voryn’s robes, running like a pack of nix-hounds were trying to kill him. What was supposed to be a political meeting ending in such a sight would be a great cause of concern--one Nerevar should smooth over before anyone marched to Kogoruhn accusing Voryn of treason. But he didn’t have the energy to do so; all he wanted to do was curl up and forget the rest of the world entirely.

“Nerevar,” It was Vivec now, knocking at his door, voice level and a bit softer than how he usually spoke, “The healers are here, will you let them in?”

“I don’t need to see a healer.” He growled, enraged. It was stupid; Nerevar knew something was wrong with his body, but the idea of being seen by a bunch of strangers right now poking and prodding at him felt like a fate worse than death.

“Voryn is here.” A sensation ran straight through Nerevar he didn’t have a proper name for. Anticipation? Anxiety? Want? It was impossible to place, but it made him feel restless. “Would you prefer to see him?”

“No!” Nerevar suddenly snapped, his voice much louder than it had to be. He was terrified of what would happen if he saw Voryn again right now. Part of him wanted to, deep down; he wasn’t this restless and anxious simply laying in Voryn’s bed. In fact he felt nice--warm and fuzzy and safe. But he didn’t know what was going on, or what would happen if he followed that thread of desire to the end.

“Did Voryn hurt you?” Vivec asked, trying to get answers.

“He didn’t hurt me--” Nerevar snapped at that as well. Voryn would never hurt Nerevar. He knew that much. His whole body was screaming, suddenly offended at even the idea. Voryn had been trying so hard to take care of Nerevar, made sure he was comfortable, fed him medicine and even made a nest for him… A wave of heat washed over him quickly at the memory, followed by a spike in anxiety. “I just--I don’t know what’s going on!”

A few moments of silence followed, before Vivec sighed. “Let me come in.” That seemed less risky than healers he hardly knew or an alpha. Nerevar’s brain, as was so common while in heat, was in survival mode after all, constantly looking out for any potential threat. But Vivec was another omega, and a bonded one at that. Someone close to him and trusted.

After Nerevar gave a quiet answer, Vivec unlocked the door with a spell, slipping inside and then shutting and locking the door behind him. He approached the bed slowly, not sitting on it or touching him.

“Tell me what happened and I’ll tell the others.” His voice was quiet, knowing just how jumpy and aggressive an omega could get in this state.

“I…” Nerevar swallowed. He didn’t want to recount it, embarrassed now that his luck had in fact run out just like Voryn said it might. “Ruts don’t usually trigger heat in me.” Nerevar said, his voice wavering.

“I’m aware.”

“But it was…” Nerevar gave a shaky sigh. “I don’t… Know what happened. My body just started… Going into heat all of a sudden while I was laying on his bed, without me even realizing it.” Normally he could tell the warning signs of an impending heat: irritability, hunger, defensiveness, physical discomfort, even a sensitivity to light. “I also hate being touched when I’m in heat, it fucking hurts,” He hissed softly, remembering the warm, welcomed touch of Voryn’s hands on him as the other scented him. His skin burned despite no one touching him at the moment, and he wanted the relief of Voryn once again. Vivec still raised an eyebrow at that. “It always does but then I… It didn’t hurt when he was touching me. It felt… Nice. Relaxing.” Vivec hummed contemplatively at that.

“When he realized I was… Going into heat he pulled away. And I realized it too and panicked and ran back here.” He did regret making a scene but he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do.

“I’ll speak with the healers.” The most they’d be able to do was a suppressant, but at this point Nerevar would take it. He wanted this feeling to stop. Desperately.

“Nerevar?!” He heard Voryn’s voice outside the door. “Nerevar, are you alright?” The concern in his voice had Nerevar’s heart racing, but he was still anxious about what would happen if he saw Voryn again. The sensation he was losing control was terrifying, after all.

“I think it would be best you see him, Neht.” Vivec said simply, moving towards the door. “He’s going to tear the palace apart trying to get to you.” Nerevar’s anxiety only grew at that; what if Voryn got hurt? What if people assumed the worst? Not to mention it was only making the other, strange feelings inside him grow all the more strong at the notion Voryn desperately needed him.

“L…” He hesitated, before he tugged the robe out from under him and back onto his body to make himself decent. “Let him in.”

As soon as the door was opened, Voryn shoved his way past the guards and Vivec into the room, Vivec retreating outside once more to hush the angered guards, attendants, and healers who wanted to drag him back out.

“Neht,” Voryn’s voice went hushed as he quickly made his way to the bed, climbing on without a care. Nerevar had half a mind to snap at him, before Voryn was stroking at his skin and scenting him again. He felt himself melting already from the familiar scent filling the room, along with the soothing touch on his skin. “Thank gods you’re alright.” The room still felt wrong, but he felt a hell of a lot better being tended to like this, the burning under his skin slowly fading.

“Voryn…” He murmured, closing his eyes. He tried to will himself to feel more comfortable; he was in his room, the same place he always was for all of his heats. Maybe it was because there were people outside his door? It was possible; he hated being bothered when he was in heat.

Then the door opened after a few, pleasant moments, Voryn growling with pure rage. The healer who entered was an older beta woman, but even she shuddered.

“I mean his majesty no harm.” It was a healer he saw many times in the past. She then glanced at Nerevar in the dim lighting. “I know what happened, Lord Nerevar.”

Nerevar sat up at that, eager for answers, but Voryn kept an arm wrapped around his waist securely.

“... In all honesty,” The healer began, sounding exacerbated, “I have never seen a case like this in all my years. But there is only one answer I can come to based on everything else.”

“Go on.” Nerevar tried to keep his voice level rather than annoyed. Azura knows how terrified most people got when he was angry.

The healer pinched the bridge of her nose.

“How familiar are you with fated mates?” At her question, Nerevar froze, stunned, before he gave a loud bark of laughter. The healer, however, did not laugh or smile back, and instead only looked more resolute.

“... Be serious with me.”

“I am being serious, Lord Nerevar.”

“Are you--are you seriously trying to say Voryn is my--”

“I understand how strange it sounds at first.” The healer cut him off. “Typically when someone meets their fated mate they determine it quickly. It only takes a few heat or rut cycles before the draw is undeniable.” She sighed once again. “I can only assume because you knew Lord Dagoth before either of you presented, the draw was less noticeable.”

It kind of made sense, to a degree. When people wrote about fated mates it was usually that they had a scent that was undeniable. Even passing by them on the street, you couldn’t get the scent out of your head for days on end, trying to find it again and again. Even those who tried to deny it couldn’t refuse the pull forever; heats and ruts were unbearable, the longing overwhelming the pair. No one had ever recorded an account of a fated pair who knew each other prior to presenting though; fated mates were absurdly rare, after all. They were more common in fiction than real life, and only the most hopeless of romantics ever went out actually looking for one. Most people just found a mate they liked rather than chase after some destined person, and why fated mates even existed was a mystery. Did everyone have one but distance kept them from finding one? That didn’t seem likely; the most common belief was that some people were born with them--not many members of the population, anyways--and even fewer actually found their ‘other half’. Someone meeting a fated mate before presenting, when you were children not off exploring the wider world yet, was even more unlikely.

Dumac told him the dwemer scholars believed it had something to do with ‘reproductive compatibility’. Not that it was a mystical, god given connection like some believed, but rather those with a fated partner were less compatible with most of the population, so when they did find someone they could produce children with easily, the desire to mate was enhanced strongly. Nerevar didn’t know if he liked that explanation either though. He found the ideas the gods made destined partners to love each other forever as too romantic of an idea for reality yes, but presuming there must be something wrong with them instead wasn’t much better.

It didn’t seem likely that he and Voryn could just ignore the draw for decades though, right? Surely that wouldn’t be possible. The draw was supposed to be strong, impossible to deny past a certain point.

Sure, when he was younger and Voryn was in a rut he always came by to check on him before he was shooed away, but that was just boredom. And when he was in heat Voryn would pass him notes under the door from time to time that he’d bury in the nests he made, but that was just because being in heat made him feel sensitive and sappy. Nothing more. And shouldn’t there be something more if they were a fated pair?

“Your other symptoms make me more certain of it.” The healer continued, pulling him from his thoughts.

“How so?” Nerevar raised an eyebrow.

“It isn’t healthy for an unmated omega to be around an alpha in rut.” She replied, a fact that always made Nerevar roll his eyes. “It causes excess stress, even if it doesn’t trigger a heat. Unless you are drawn to the alpha in question as a potential partner, usually a rut is off putting, distressing, or nauseating for an unmated omega.”

“They’ve never bothered me to that extent.” Nerevar snarked.

“Precisely.” She locked eyes with him. “You handle it more akin to an omega who’s already been mated, despite not having the scent of one.” Nerevar tensed at that. He hadn’t thought of it like that in the slightest; why would he? He wasn’t mated. Anyone could smell on him that he wasn’t. “Those who have met a fated partner experience mated behaviors before the bond is even set. Rejecting other suitors, unbothered by others in a heat or rut,” She sighed. “Lord Vivec even explained you were giving off the same scent as a bonded omega whose mate was absent.” Nerevar’s cheeks flushed at that.

“That’s--” Nerevar tensed slightly, “I wouldn’t go that far.” Surely Nerevar wasn’t. He wasn’t fucking bonded, why would he be throwing out the same scent as an omega who went into heat, begging for their mate to come tend to them?

“You were.” She asserted, though she did have some sympathy in her gaze at least. “Unfortunately, the best I can do is, if you truly don’t want the bond, I can give you suppressants. They won’t actively stop it right now given you already went into heat, but they should calm some of the worst side effects for a time.” Nerevar already knew what she was going to say next though. “But your next one will be much the same. The side effects will continue to worsen.” Short of running away to the other side of the continent and burning anything he owned that Voryn had ever so much as touched, he would be able to smell Voryn faintly, after all. In the palace, on his belongings, anywhere Voryn had been might trigger the worst of the symptoms all over again now that he had a heat triggered by his rut no doubt.

“At the very least, Lord Dagoth is in control of his emotions.” Voryn’s brow twitched at that, his arms tightening. “You can spend ruts and heats together without actually mating, until you come to a decision on how to proceed. It should alleviate both of your struggles.”

Shit, Nerevar hadn’t even considered what Voryn must be going through. Was his irritation and lack of eating because he subconsciously knew Nerevar was supposed to be his mate but wasn’t there by his side? When he was younger was that out of character, violent rage because he knew, right there in the stronghold, his mate was being kept from him? No doubt the next rut Voryn would be uncontrollable; before he could hold back because he wasn’t consciously aware of what he wanted, but now that he knew it was Nerevar…

Nerevar felt himself getting all the more wet at the prospect of Voryn tearing his way across the country for him, earning a low growl from Voryn and the healer clearing her throat.

“I’ll leave the two of you to discuss it.” She said, now turning to leave. Nerevar felt his cheeks flush in a rush of embarrassment; no doubt because he was in heat the arousal led to a surge of pheromones in the air all but begging for Voryn to fuck him. “We will be waiting outside for your answer.”

As soon as the door shut, Voryn was fussing over him again, marking him with his scent by nuzzling into his hair and against his cheek. But quickly the tension was melting off of Voryn’s body as he began apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, Neht.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Nerevar huffed. “I’m the idiot who deliberately stuck around after you told me not to.”

“You didn’t know either.” Voryn sighed. “I could have made you leave but I… I felt more comfortable with you there.” If it was anything like what Nerevar was going through he could understand it. “Besides… If what the healer said is true then this was bound to happen.” That was also true; it was a miracle it hadn’t happened until now. If it wasn’t Nerevar insisting on spending time with Voryn during a rut, it could just as easily be Voryn stumbling upon him in heat, or anything else really.

“Do you want to take the suppressants?” Voryn asked, and Nerevar sighed, shaking his head.

“No,” He rubbed his eyes, feeling sluggishness settle into his body. “It’ll help only temporarily, and make it worse next time around.”

“But they might help you think clearer.” Voryn countered. “I don’t want you making any decisions with a clouded head.”

“I’m not completely out of it, Voryn. A bit anxious, yes, but it’s not like I’m drunk.” Nerevar hated those kinds of assumptions; the stereotype that omegas were just needy, pathetic little things that couldn’t think for themselves once they were in heat was the most infuriating one.

At his anger though, Voryn hushed him, nuzzling into his neck apologetically and licking a scent gland. Nerevar huffed at first, still rigid, until the affection soothed him, now groaning softly in delight instead as he head fell to the side to give Voryn more room.

“Then,” Voryn began, “Would you prefer to stay here?” His hand rubbed soothing circles on Nerevar’s lower stomach. “Or do you want to return to my room?”

“Mm…” Nerevar knew it would probably be easier if he stayed here; he had healers and attendants he was used to, not to mention he knew the layout of his room well and kept it stocked with toys, erotica, anything he needed to help him get off. Even if the two of them only went so far as masturbating together rather than mating, those would be helpful.

But the room didn’t feel entirely comfortable, even with Voryn there. Damn hormones were likely acting up on that front, but no use arguing with something illogical.

“Your room is probably better.” He admitted, pulling himself out of Voryn’s arms to start packing. “Let me just get a few things and we can head back. Hopefully without the whole damn palace gossiping about it…”

“It’ll be alright.” Voryn reassured him, rubbing his back gently. “The palace was mostly quiet today.” He then coughed awkwardly, “Before I… Came running through after you.” Nerevar snorted at that. “After how thoroughly I scented you though I doubt most will be able to tell what’s going on.”

“Hopefully.” Nerevar wasn’t keeping it a secret he was an omega exactly, but he didn’t want to go shouting it to the world either. It was better to keep people guessing rather than anyone giving him shit for it unnecessarily. He still grabbed his travel pack, carelessly shoving some comfortable clothes and sleeping robes in, along with a few changes of underwear, and a favorite pillow of his. He also managed to cram in a few toys and a steamy novel he enjoyed, able to smell the spike of Voryn’s arousal at the sight from how strong his pheromones were.

Another trip through the propylon chamber later--this time less hurried and better dressed, and they were once again walking back to Voryn’s private chambers. On the way there Voryn ordered attendants as they went, requesting a large dinner to be brought to his room that evening for Nerevar too, as well that Nerevar would be staying in Kogoruhn for several days. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Nerevar was going to be spending Voryn’s rut with him, the servants all scrambling at the knowledge.

Just before they reached the room another healer appeared, handing Voryn several vials of potions, before giving a respectful bow and leaving. Voryn’s cheeks were more red at that, but he took them regardless, letting Nerevar enter the room.

It was mostly as he left it, albeit with a few blankets and pillows knocked off from his speedy exit and a few tapestries fallen off the wall from a door slamming. A wardrobe was left open, probably from Voryn’s scramble to make himself semi-decent before chasing after Nerevar.

He tossed his bag to the side of the bed, already feeling relieved to be back. Voryn locked the door behind them, moving to draw the curtains shut as Nerevar began fussing over the pillows and blankets, making sure the bed would be comfortable for him. With more than enough room for Voryn this time, something that had excitement bubbling away in his chest.

“What are the potions for?” Nerevar asked as he added his own pillow to the bed, still arranging it. It was annoying to do it in heat--normally he got started a few days prior, but whatever.

“... Birth control.” Voryn admitted, and Nerevar’s hands stopped briefly.

He knew that was only logical. Even if they ended up going further, actually having sex or mating entirely, most didn’t want to have kids the first time. It took a while to adjust to a mate, see if you wanted to keep the bond… Then again, it was said fated mates couldn’t remove the bond once they did mate.

Still, hearing ‘birth control’ made it seem that much more… Real. They were going to spending Voryn’s rut and Nerevar’s heat together. Very easily one thing could lead to another, and he could… Actually have sex with Voryn.

“... Better to be prepared than not.” Nerevar finally replied, resuming his work, before flopping into the nest he made. As soon as he was situated, Voryn stripped out of the additional robe he threw on top of his night clothes for decency, climbing in to lay beside Nerevar.

“Did you eat properly?” He asked, fretting over him. Nerevar snorted.

“Says the one who forgot to eat.” Nerevar teased.

“I was…” Voryn sighed. “Too anxious to eat. I get wound up during a rut, and the idea of eating was nauseating.” He closed his eyes. “Until you showed up.”

“Well I’m glad I made it easier for you.” Nerevar smiled. “And for your information, yes. I did in fact eat a large breakfast and lunch, as always.” He always had a big appetite after all, though he was especially ravenous during heats. “Though I wont say no to a big mudcrab feast for dinner~” Voryn laughed loudly at that, head thrown back and canines glinting. Nerevar swallowed roughly at the sight, subconsciously rubbing his own neck.

“I’m glad you’re well fed then.” Voryn was still smiling warmly. “Hopefully you won’t eat me out of house and home.”

“Get a bigger house then if I do.” Nerevar teased back.

“I certainly will have to, won’t I?” Voryn was smirking now, rolling on top of Nerevar. “I have to keep my mate well taken care of…” Voryn went back to his neck, kissing and licking now, earning several long, breathy moans from Nerevar.

Gods, did Nerevar know what Vivec meant when he said heats were so much easier like this. Nerevar thought obviously a mate or even just a potential one you spent a heat with would make it a bit more bearable. But this… He didn’t feel nearly as irritable as he usually was, now feeling quite secure, not to mention his arousal wasn’t frustrating it just…

“Mmm…” Voryn groaned softly, grinding his hips against Nerevar’s. “Such a sweet scent when you’re aroused…” Voryn nipped at his ear next, making Nerevar arch up and keen.

“Ah,” Nerevar gasped, grinding his hips in return, “Is it?” He didn’t have many people telling him he smelled sweet; usually he was compared to things that were fresh and bright, like citrus or herbs.

“Delightfully sweet.” Voryn purred. “Perfectly so, just to my taste…” Voryn then pulled up from his neck, taking his chin in hand.

Nerevar’s heartbeat accelerated from the look in Voryn’s eyes. In every raunchy novel he read, alphas were described as ravenously hungry when they stared down omegas, like a predator having just caught its prey. But here Nerevar didn’t feel like prey; Voryn’s eyes were hungry, yes, but more so they were warm, affectionate and…

Loving. Devoted. Like he would do anything and everything for Nerevar’s sake.

Nerevar’s eyes fell half shut as he found himself leaning up, Voryn meeting him halfway to connect their lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

It was entirely out of order; normally you kissed and courted someone before you invited them to spend a rut or heat with you, contrary to many smutty novels and ballads where the couple spontaneously fell into bed together during one. By Azura, the two already knew each other for so many years too, and they were just barely kissing…

Gods, no wonder people described it like fate. It felt insane that they hadn’t kissed before now. That it took so long for them to get here, sprawled out in bed together. The scent from Voryn was intoxicating as the kisses warmed up from slow and soft to passionate ones that made Nerevar feel entirely breathless. When Nerevar swiped his tongue into Voryn’s mouth, flicking briefly against his fangs, Nerevar shuddered, slipping one hand down between his thighs to rub back and forth against his dick.

“So eager…” Voryn moaned against his lips, his own hand joining Nerevar’s. Even through the fabric the touch was electric, Nerevar’s body trembling slightly. “Did you want a toy inside you then?” Voryn asked, his voice low and deep, the sound going straight to Nerevar’s cunt.

“Yeah…” Nerevar moaned softly. “A toy, your fingers…” Voryn was already undressing him, throwing the robe open and sliding his underwear off, “Anything…”

“My cock?” Voryn offered with a smirk, only joking. Still though, Nerevar groaned at the thought; fuck yes did he want Voryn’s cock in him, fucking him to completion and then knotting him. He was already dripping wet at just the idea, after all. But he also knew they should take things slower.

“T-toy for now…” Nerevar groaned through grit teeth, before hissing as Voryn played with his dick while fishing around in the bag beside the bed.

“Which one?” Voryn asked, still not letting up his teasing in the slightest. It felt so damn good, but Nerevar felt too empty! He threw an arm over his eyes, panting.

“Th-the…” Using his words was more difficult than he thought. “The one with the… Big knot~” A moment later, Voryn pulled it out, sliding the tip against Nerevar’s entrance. “Hah~!”

“Is this one your favorite?” Voryn asked, a devilish smirk still on his face. Nerevar didn’t even have to look, he could feel the pleased look on his face as he started to tease it in.

“Mm, when I’m in heat, yeah~” He could have lied, but what was the fucking point? Voryn was already fucking him with the damn thing, why play coy? Voryn slid it in a few inches, groaning softly as he watched it vanish into Nerevar’s body, before thrusting it in and out. It was a different rhythm than Nerevar used, but like everything else today it wasn’t unwelcomed.

“Oh I’ll bet…” Voryn purred. “When you’re in heat you love taking a nice,” He gave a sharper thrust, letting Nerevar take it all up to just before the knot, but not quite pushing it in, “Big knot in your greedy little cunt, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Would you fuck yourself to completion and then take the whole thing?” He continued moving at that sharp, hurried pace as he slid it in and out of Nerevar.

“Fuck, yes—yes!!” He was panting desperately now, savoring the feeling. Voryn’s dirty talk was making this all the better—how had he gone so long without this?! If he’d known it would be this good, he’d have climbed into Voryn’s bed long before this.

“Imagining someone breeding you up?” Voryn was panting too, watching Nerevar with rapt attention.

“Please,” Nerevar pleaded, feeling how close he was to an orgasm just hearing that. “Please, please~!” He tried grinding his hips down on the toy, desperate to feel the knot slipping inside him, but Voryn kept it from doing so.

“My knot is the only one you’re going to feel this time, Neht.” Voryn growled low in Nerevar’s ear. “Only mine.”

In response, Nerevar growled in return, quickly flipping positions as he climbed on top of Voryn instead. The toy completely slipped out, soon lost in the piles of pillows and blankets, as Voryn growled in return. The two were wrestling once again, though this time it wasn’t quite as playful. Honestly, Nerevar probably would have won this one by how seriously he was taking it, but heats made his body so groggy he wasn’t up to his usual strength.

“Get inside me then.” Nerevar demanded through grit teeth as Voryn shoved him back down, prying his legs back open.

“Lay there and I will.” Nerevar still snarled, thrashing. “Now hold still or I’ll make you.” The threat made his cunt ache again, a long moan crawling out of his throat.

“Potion—“ Nerevar freed one arm, reaching for them. Voryn grabbed one, placing it in Nerevar’s hand as he finished undressing himself. Nerevar uncapped it and threw his head back, chugging it.

To Oblivion with taking it slow. He needed Voryn—all of him.

He tossed the potion bottle aside, wrapping his arms around Voryn as he nuzzled his face into his neck, now being the one to lick and kiss at a scent gland, almost intoxicated by the spice and musk.

“Neht,” Voryn hissed.

“Let’s mate.” Nerevar whispered, before feeling Voryn tense up. Silence followed, except for Voryn’s heavy breathing.

“Nerevar we don’t have to mate just to—“

“I want to.” Nerevar pulled back enough to look at him. “Be honest with me Voryn, who else am I going to mate with?” The very idea Nerevar could mate with someone else made Voryn’s anger spike, clear from the scent he gave off. “And even if we just tried to deny mating, just spending heats and ruts together, we’ll both lose it eventually.” The draw was supposedly undeniable, and Nerevar wanted to do it at least semi lucid without pain and desperation making the experience less enjoyable.

“Besides,” Nerevar now gave a warm smile, the low light still twinkling in his eyes. “You’re a very devoted, loving, strong alpha…” Voryn shuddered. “Making sure I’m well fed, giving me medicine…”

“I have to take care of you…” Voryn whispered. “You mean the world to me.”

“Exactly.” Nerevar was still smiling, now thumbing at Voryn’s lower lip as he cupped his cheek. “Who else could possibly take care of me as well as you? You’re the one who’s always been there for me. You guarded my back in war, supported me on my quest to become hortator, and even long before I was a hero, just some canvasari not even wanted by his own house, you took care of me and showed me respect.” Just as easily, Voryn could have tossed him aside. Childish friendships with lower classes didn’t need to be kept by chimer nobility. Any other would have probably ‘outgrown’ Nerevar, but Voryn didn’t. Because Voryn didn’t just see Nerevar as a toy to be played with and tossed aside but as himself.

Honestly, even being tossed aside by another noble would have been a good outcome. Many would have also taken Nerevar as a concubine after he presented, or sold him off given he had nowhere else to go. But Voryn always saw him as a friend he treasured.

“But,” Voryn gave a sigh, “You don’t love me.”

Ah. Nerevar didn’t think Voryn was the type to only want to mate when you truly loved someone. It only made sense he supposed, most people did, but he was used to seeing things in terms of practicality.

“Voryn,” He stroked his cheek, “Maybe I don’t love you romantically… Yet.” Nerevar wouldn’t discount that at all; if he’d fall in love with anyone, right now he imagined it would be Voryn. “And I don’t really know… What it’s even like to fall in love with someone completely like that given I’ve only had a few flings and a political marriage but,” He looked up into Voryn’s eyes, never more certain in matters of the heart than he was now. “I do know I care about you deeply. More than anyone else in my life.” Nerevar licked his lips. “And there is no person in the world I’d rather be mated with than you.”

Silence then followed, Voryn staring at him in shock. Suddenly nervous, Nerevar began to backpedal slightly.

“Of course I understand if you want to wait. I-gods, it would probably be easier for you if we did the whole courtship and dating thing first, wouldn’t it—“ He was then cut off by a kiss, Voryn’s tongue swiping into his mouth.

“I want to mate with you, Neht.” Voryn whispered, as he pulled away with a smile. “Tonight.”

“Are you sure? I—“ Nerevar swallowed roughly as he felt Voryn lift one of his legs up, his own instincts screaming at him that he needed this—that he needed to stop talking and get fucked right then and there.

“I’m certain.” Voryn said, his tone unwavering as he kept that warm smile on his face, his eyes shining. “Do you want me to mate with you before, during, or after?”

Nerevar licked his lips, thinking it over. A claiming bite was said to be extremely pleasurable, once the initial pain wore off. Some preferred to get it out of the way before sex, enjoying their new bond before warming back up. Some preferred the orgasmic rush that came with a claiming bite in the middle of sex. Others preferred to claim their mates while they laid together, panting and connected after being knotted.

“Not before,” Nerevar answered, his whole body still feeling warm. “I can’t… I can’t wait that long.” His body was still screaming at him to move, push the alpha on top of him down and ride him if he wasn’t going to take Nerevar already. He was squirming, antsy under Voryn’s gaze, and feeling too fucking empty again to think properly.

“Here,” Voryn whispered, pressing the head of his cock to Nerevar’s entrance. Nerevar’s breath hitched, before giving a long, drawn out moan as Voryn slid inside. “Why don’t we just see what feels right in the moment…”

“Voryn~!” Nerevar arched up, trembling slightly.

It felt good. It felt right. It occurred to him, at that moment, that this was what he’d wanted every heat. Every struggling minute of desperation, every orgasm that didn’t quite feel satisfying enough—he wanted Voryn.

Voryn threaded his fingers with Nerevar’s, pinning both of his hands to the bed as he gave a slow thrust, kissing him for all he was worth. No wonder his heats were so much more unbearable after he moved to Mournhold—he had assumed it was the heat and stress of being king, but he knew now it was his body screaming at him to return back to Voryn. To lose himself in Voryn’s embrace, just like this.

“Fuck…” Voryn groaned as he pulled away from the messy kiss. “Incredible—you feel incredible~”

Such a comment only stroked his pride, adding to the pleasure. He was making his mate feel good. He was making his mate feel just as good as he felt. It was enough to make his head spin, as every thrust quickly matched that sharp, hurried pace Voryn had set earlier with the toy.

“Claim me~” Nerevar whined, turning his head to expose his neck. Nerevar could feel it—he wanted to be claimed. Oh gods did he want to be claimed! Before he felt disgust whenever alphas glanced at his neck, trying to determine if he was a claimed omega or a beta of some kind. But now though he wanted it more than anything—

Voryn complied, moving down quickly, not letting the pace of his thrusts falter as he growled, nuzzling Nerevar’s neck. He licked and kissed, listening to every sharp whine from Nerevar that followed, before finally biting.

Nerevar’s mind went blank the second Voryn bit him, his eyes rolling back as he orgasmed.

It felt unreal—every fucking novel he read left him sorely unprepared for the pleasurable rush that hit him. It was pure bliss; every nerve in his body burning brightly from ecstasy, as Voryn growled deeply.

He was officially mated. He belonged to Voryn. He found his mate and everything felt perfect, sparks still shooting up and down his spine as Voryn pulled his teeth out, panting and growling even more harshly as his hips somehow moved faster and rougher. He could feel Voryn’s knot forming too, pumping in and out of his cunt in a way that hit his sweet spot every time.

“Tight—!” Voryn snarled. “So tight, so damn tight… Neht!”

“Knot me…” Nerevar moaned, coaxing Voryn further, feeling intoxicated from the pleasure still coursing through him. “Knot me, breed me up~” He ground his hips down at every thrust inside him, forcing Voryn to change the rhythm. Now, every thrust in he stayed a moment longer, grinding down, his knot catching on Nerevar’s entrance.

By now, Voryn had let go of Nerevar’s hands, face still buried in Nerevar’s neck as he moaned and growled into his ear. “I’m going to,“ Voryn panted. “I’m going to breed you, knot you until I know my seed takes—!” It wouldn’t, not after the potion Nerevar took, but he wasn’t thinking logically at the moment. All he was thinking about was how great it felt being fucked and bred by his mate, his alpha. “Mine! You’re all mine! Mine mine mine mine mine—!”

Finally, the knot refused to slip out. It swelled up completely, pressed firmly inside him, and Nerevar gasped as a new sensation overtook him.

He felt himself tighten even further, making Voryn moan long and loud, as the two were now firmly locked together. An orgasm hit him next, even more intense than the one from the claiming bite. If the bite was an intense, all encompassing blast of fire—like a star going supernova—this one was a drawn out burn. His mind didn’t go blank, instead forcing him to focus on the pleasure, as he felt heat inside him.

“Fuck~!!” Nerevar yelled, practically screaming, dragging his nails down Voryn’s back as his body shuddered, his cunt clenching and milking the cock still firmly sealed inside him.

He knew what it was, yet he never really experienced it, so his knowledge was only really how it would be in theory. He never let an alpha knot him, after all; even if he had to have sex for political reasons he doused himself in perfume oil to hide his pheromones and always made sure they pulled out. Supposedly an omega locking happened much more commonly in heat, tightening around the knot as they orgasmed, keeping every drop of seed in to ensure conception…

Nerevar felt another wave of the long orgasm following, a broken, garbled moan spilling from his lips as Voryn rocked his hips.

“Stop moving!” Nerevar pleaded. If he kept rocking his knot right there—right against Nerevar’s sweet spot—he was never going to stop climaxing.

“Stop cumming!” Voryn hissed back, before groaning. “Oh gods you’re milking me for every drop!” He continued the slow rocking, as Nerevar felt fuller and fuller, his vision going hazy as tears rolled down his cheeks.

“I can’t…” Nerevar whined. “Too full…” Nerevar groaned, still trembling. “It’s too much….” There was too much inside him—before he felt painfully empty, and now he felt far too full. Voryn’s cock, his knot, and every drop of seed was filling him—

Another wave of pleasure followed, as Voryn growled.

“Your body wants this so badly…” He snarled, nipping at the claiming bite he left. “Get pregnant!” He hissed, enjoying the way Nerevar’s body tightened around him once more. The command was enough to make him shudder, yet another wave of pleasure following. “Get pregnant, get pregnant!” Voryn urged with a bit more rocking, before Nerevar tugged him into another messy, open mouthed kiss.

If it wasn’t for the potion, Nerevar knew he would be. It seemed impossible for him not to conceive when it felt this good—when he was so full and not a drop spilling out of him despite Voryn’s movements…

Eventually the pleasure subsided, Voryn’s movements slowing as their kiss went from feral and intense to something slower and lazier, kissing each other over and over as Nerevar ran his hands through Voryn’s long hair.

“Fuck…” Nerevar groaned, breathlessly. “Intense…” It felt like an understatement, but that was the only word that came to mind as Voryn panted.

“Gods…” Voryn groaned. “You were… Tighter than I had expected…” He hissed, shifting slightly again, but this time just to help them lay more comfortably.

“It still feels too big…” Nerevar groaned. Now it was slightly uncomfortable, but he knew the more they did this, the more his body would adjust. To help ease his discomfort, Voryn pressed a few gentle kisses to his face, keeping himself still.

“Is it too full?” Voryn asked, and Nerevar nodded. Voryn sat up slightly, and the pressure being taken off his lower stomach was a relief, especially as Voryn caressed it.

As Nerevar looked down, he could see why: there was a slight swell in his stomach from the pressure. He groaned, already regretting the decision to have sex on his back. He knew now why omegas preferred mating face down, and that it had nothing to do with submission and instead purely comfort.

“Don’t worry,” Voryn reassured him. “Just a few minutes…” His voice trailed off as his eyes went dark, taking in the sight of Nerevar under him, panting and covered in sweat, filled with his seed. Nerevar could tell what he was thinking from the change of the scent in the air, sparks from their newly formed connection.

“Like what you see…?” Nerevar asked with a toothy, cocky grin, only to groan as he felt Voryn shift again.

“Keep acting like that and I’ll only want to take you again…” Voryn replied, his voice low. Nerevar still felt rather proud at that; his mate didn’t like a soft, demure, and submissive type of omega like he always kind of worried an alpha would demand once they mated. Instead, Voryn seemed to enjoy him earnestly, even with all of his showboating and teasing.

“Maybe you should…” Nerevar purred in response. “We can have dinner, a relaxing bath to recover…” Nerevar’s eyes were half lidded as he spoke. “And then you can fill me up all over again…”

The warm, messy kiss Voryn gave him was all the answer Nerevar needed.

#nerevoryn #nerevar #indoril nerevar #voryn dagoth #ill edit this and post it on ao3 later #curse all the citizens of the fanfic website #my writing #not sfw #i already have more curse omegaverse ideas for these idiots #like neht going into heat suddenly while still a canvasari and voryn having to protect him all the way back to kogoruhn #but i will let you all suffer with this #for now

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aphel1on · 6 months

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#REMEMBERED THE DUMB EDIT I WAS GONNA MAKE.#writing #fanfic #aphelion.txt #text post meme #i guess?#ao3 #i mean this can be about original writing too but #every damn time seriously #i do it without even noticing #i'll be like oh finally i wrote a piece that isnt somehow secretly about my mother #then ill reread it 6 months later and its about my mother again.#LOL that's only one example but also like #i'll go 'im gonna write about this fucked up lil dude<3'#and only realize 10k into his pov that i have cribbed several mental health quirks directly from my own brain #sorry the text on this is fuzzy i use ms paint like some kind of cave person and its text editor is garbage

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popcorn-plots · 2 months

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who you say you are

i feel like shit so here we are

possible TW for discussions of periods and everything that happens during them, like bleeding through three layers of clothing (that was a wonderful night)

Stephen hated his periods. He hated the general feeling of unwellness during that week, and he hated having to clean blood out of everything after he inevitably bled through.. everything. The worst part about it, however, wasn't even the blood. It was the dysphoria. It was the fact that every month, his period would bring the lies of his mind, telling him that he wasn't a real man and never would be. That he was weak for whining about it.

That he was never Stephen and he never would be. That he was too feminine, or that he was never 'good enough' to pass as a man. The worst was his mind telling him that he'd always be a girl, that deep down... he was never Stephen in the first place. He was just little Lucy, trying on her dad's shirt.

On those days, Stephen would curl up on his bed, clutching a hot water bottle. Cloak would hold him as he sobbed, telling himself over and over again, like a mantra, that his name was Stephen Strange. On those days, he would ask Wong not to bother him, despite every fiber of his being yearning to be held, begging for someone to call him handsome and take away the pain.

He didn't think that Wong knew. He was near-positive that Wong had no idea that Stephen was trans. As far as the other sorcerer knew, Stephen was just another man. A man with a broken soul to match his broken hands and scarred chest.

It was one of those days (Dark Days, Stephen called them) when Stephen was in his room, clutching a pillow to his chest. A second was between his legs, pressed to his crotch. It was surprisingly helpful when dealing with cramps, the pressure on his lower abdomen easing the discomfort. Unfortunately, he had forgotten his heading pad in the library from when he last used it and when he finally needed it again, he was too comfortable to get it.

Magic was out of the option as well considering just how horrible he felt between the pain, dysphoria, and his hands. It was a bad hand day, because of course, and he really didn't want to move. Which, unfortunately, meant breathing through the pain and trying not to cry.

Eventually, he managed to fall into a light sleep, nodding off then jolting awake again. He woke up in a way that jarred his hands and he groaned. It might be time to sacrifice his comfort for some much-desired relief.

He was mentally preparing himself to climb out of bed when there was a knock at the door. "Stephen?"

Stephen blinked. "..Wong..?"

"You left your heating pad in the library." Wong announced.

Stephen sighed. "I know. Leave me alone."

"I warmed it up for you. I thought you might need it. May I come in?" Stephen didn't respond. Wong had found his heating pad and warmed it up for him. For a second, Stephen wondered if Wong knew, but he had hidden it so well-- "Stephen?"

"...yeah. you can come in."

There was a click as the doorknob turned, then Wong was walking across the room in brisk strides, stopping in front of the nest of blankets that was Stephen Strange. "Here." he set the heating pad down near Stephen's hands. "I also have tea and some of your painkillers. It's raining today."

Stephen let out a shaky breath. Maybe Wong was just looking out for his hands. That would explain it, right? But Wong was never so... caring. Aside from his the week after Everest and his usual quiet help when Stephen needed to handle large stacks of books.

"You're paler than usual. If you turned yourself into a vampire on accident, I will kill you again." Stephen huffed.

"I'm not a vampire."

Wong reached out a hand and felt Stephen's forehead. Stephen nearly froze at the contact, but didn't say anything. He tried to look anywhere but Wong until the hand was gone. "You're not running a temperature."

"I'm trans." Stephen found himself blurting out.

Wong looked at him. Blinked. "Do you need any supplies?"

Supplies...?

"Pads, tampons? You disappear in your room once every four weeks, only coming out for food and when you do, you look horrible. Deathly pale, hunched over as if in pain, it wasn't hard to figure out."

Stephen looked up at his friend. Wong had taken a seat in the armchair next to Stephen's bed -- one of the large library chairs that had found itself in Stephen's room after a few too many vigils of Wong's when Stephen found himself injured.

"You... you never said anything."

"If you wanted me to know, you would have told me when the time was right."

"You... always made my favorite meals."

Wong huffed a rare smile. "I have never menstruated, but I can sympathy. I have a sister. She was always... vocal with.. everything. I did what I could to make her feel better."

Stephen smiled. "It sounds like you love her."

"Very much." Wong was smiling ever so slightly. Stephen found that watching Wong smile seemed to take the pain away.

"What's her name?"

"Li." It was soft, spoken just above a whisper. "You'd like her."

"Li. Pretty name." Stephen sighed. "Mine was-- is--"

"Stephen."

Stephen paused. He stared at Wong. Wong stared back. "Your name is Stephen. You are Stephen Strange. Do not give me your dead name. It is dead for a reason. You are who you say you are, not what someone else wants you to be. You told me on your very first day that your name is Stephen Strange. That is who you are. If you wish for me to use a different name, then I will. I respect you, and I will respect you, whoever you decide to be."

Stephen swallowed, tears pricking his eyes. He refused to let himself cry in front of Wong, of all people. Wong looked at him again and nodded. "You are Stephen Strange. Remember that."

Before he knew it, Wong had closed the door behind him and Stephen was sobbing into his pillow.

A few hours later, Stephen woke up feeling a hundred times better than before. He decided to find his way to the kitchen for dinner, now that the cramps had disappeared.

He found Wong at the stove, making friend rice. Wong's go-to comfort food that had quickly become Stephen's as well."

"Thank you." Stephen whispered. Wong responded by dishing Stephen and himself a large helping of rice.

"Of course, Stephen."

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kintrash413 · 1 year

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socialstuck fic given... recent events :3c

Reddit would consider Tumblr… a friend. maybe. As far as he could tell, Tumblr didn’t think of him at all- embarrassing, considering the small but existent pedestal Reddit held him on but whatever. Reddit, Tumblr, and 4Chan seemed to be the last anonymous sites out there, as far as Reddit knew. and 4Chan was beyond antisocial so once again, that just left Tumblr.

Reddit’s home was collapsing. The carefully built in technology he’d curated over so many years to help everyone he could was getting outlawed, and as a result every part of his home that relied on it was collapsing. Which was… most of it, really.

But… Tumblr wasn’t open to taking in people for charity, he’d made that very clear when Twitter was in an eerily similar situation. And those two used to be matesprites. What hope did Reddit have in comparison?

All this to say that Reddit had been standing outside of Tumblr’s door for nearly an hour, and it was starting to snow. Worst he could say is no, right? Well, that wasn’t true. He could say ‘ew’.

Taking a deep breath and brushing the powdered snow off his shoulders, Reddit knocked.

The door slammed open, and Reddit was greeted with the blade of an axe to his face. He screamed and backed up, hands shooting up innocently. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’ll-”

“Oh.” Tumblr lowered the weapon, placing it against the wall. “Thought you were another bot. What are you doing here?”

“Um…”

Tumblr took a step out into the cold, shivering slightly under his suit jacket and eyeing Reddit intensely. “You’re not a bot, right? What’s five (5) times five (5)?”

“...25?”

Tumblr nodded, absconding the single step back inside. “Firefox, it’s cold out here. Come in, dude.”

Well, Reddit was allowed inside for the moment, and he gratefully took it, kicking his boots against the welcome mat as he stepped in. “I don’t know if you heard but, Spez-”

“Oh I heard,” Tumblr spat as he shut the door. “Another fucking corporation fucking over disabled people to make a quick buck.” He shook his head in disgust. “Can I offer you a drink?”

“Sure?”

Tumblr headed into the kitchen without another word, and after a moment of standing in place stupidly, Reddit decided the best course of action was to follow a few feet behind.

“congrats on the protesting, by the way,” Tumblr stated as he rummaged through the cupboards. “Takes guts to cost a corpo that much money.”

"th-thanks." Reddit twiddled with his thumbs and hid his smile in his hoodie. "but, because of all that my house is… well it's a mess. it's falling apart, the lights aren't working, and the locks have all been changed so…"

Tumblr sighed, pulling a carton of some strong-smelling drink from the cupboard and pouring two cups. "What is it with everyone coming to me when faced with homelessness? I'm honoured, maybe?"

"I mean- I don't think Spez will keep this shit up I just need a place to crash until… if you have the space, I mean."

Tumblr pushed the drink into Reddits hands, just listening for now as he leaned against the counter and downed his own drink in seconds.

Reddit took a single sip before immediately deciding never to do that again. "bluh… anyway, i, uh…" Reddit spoke quickly, as if that would make the next sentence any less embarrassing. "I enjoy a lot of your content and made quite a few snoos after you so I should be able to acclimate-"

"ah, stop you flatter me," Tumblr made a show of fanning his cheeks dramatically, playful grin making Reddit feel all sorts of pale things he was desperately trying to ignore. "multiple? I knew about r/Tumblr but… oh, I guess there's r/CuratedTumblr and r/196, practically. and... r/TumblrCringe."

Reddit had no excuses for that.

"but I know a lot of my bigger users carry fame across your platforms as well so clearly you've got good taste." Tumblr hummed thoughtfully. "I'll think about it. where are you staying right now?"

well, a few minutes ago he was staying outside of Tumblrs door. and before he walked over he was living on his own porch leaning against the locked door. but mostly he was living nowhere and bouncing around to distract himself from the fact that he was living nowhere.

"oh," was Tumblrs subdued response to Reddits silence. "how long do you think you'll…?"

"48 hours, hopefully."

"well… that's not long at all. I got a couch you can sleep on until then and… you're a hell of a lot more respectful than Twitter was…" he patted Reddit on the arm with a smile. "let me show you around."

Reddit let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding before following Tumblr further inside the house. "thanks."

"not a problem! stay as long as you need."

#ill post this to Ao3... later #writing #mine #short story #my writing #socialstuck #socialstuck tumblr #socialstuck reddit

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shinakazami1 · 7 months

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Rhys AI AU snippet 3 - Set up with a movie night

Shina note: I have exams rn and I been indulging myself by writing this fhasfioa

This one is longer than the prev ones but hope you enjoy it! You might even find someone you know in there owo More under the cut!

===

The Echo Net was a beautiful place. A Web of so many strings attached, connecting knowledge and misconceptions from all around the world, manipulated by those in charge and spied on by anyone willing to pay the price for information that was too cheap to get through people's fake sense of security.

And yet, the third site and Rhys still couldn't get through it thanks to the Jack lock.

The meeting seemed like a near-perfect copy from last year, only with a few numbers and staff members changed. Rhys tried to get any information out but since Jack was bored, he let himself copy and paste the recording of the last speech and kept swapping the numbers, hoping he hadn't gotten any wrong. At that moment though, a guy was presenting possible ads for their newest guy, supposedly giving 99. 2% accuracy. Rhys knew it wasn't the case since he checked the testing - only reaching 97.3%, which still wasn't that bad. But it was not enough for the perfectionist he was working for.

Yet somehow, the same guy left a typo on the safe lock screen. What was 'pupmkin'? Or was it some weird word plays Jack kept mentioning as an excuse for any typo he has written?

Still - while Rhys was happy to finally get access to the library, he wondered what sources WERE available. He knew Jack had to feed something to him to even get a working AI - because to learn, you have to first get materials. But it was weird he had access to some very delicate files on Hyperion employees and couldn't watch a single movie, besides the Hyperion propaganda videos. Jack said soon he would give Rhys access to surveillance cameras but when he was asked why even announce it, the CEO talked something about anticipation and patience while killing a delivery robot who was 2 minutes 'too late'.

Rhys stared at the illustration on the lock screen. Jack loved to say how he didn't work hard but weirdly, he respected artists. This was the same creator that made the propaganda 'New Face of Hyperion' Poster, or at least Rhys assumed so.

Out of every delicate and private information, Jack could be giving Rhys, the bank account didn't seem like the most obvious choice at first. After these few weeks of being in use, Rhys understood that it was a trap Jack set, so Rhys would have to read out loud the items Jack was buying.

Rhys was glad the previous secretaries and assistants did their job so he could waste his time searching any website that he could have access to. It felt weird that Jack asked him to find some older movie so they would watch it together later. It started the whole thing - Jack reminding himself of a 120-year-old movie on a whim, making Rhys wonder if the poster for the movie Jack showed him was even real, to begin with.

Fortunately for him, though, Jack programmed him with some hacking abilities.

The first thing to do was to figure out on what level Rhys was locked. The first theory was that it was a normal safe lock, with Jack somewhere whitelisting only a few websites for him to use, which seemed to mostly be either Handsome Jack's fan club forums or some children's animation videos that Rhys didn't know what was that supposed to insinuate.

He cursed the fact he couldn't see all of his files. Jack said it was because 'nobody can see their own liver', which Rhys couldn't even check the meaning of the saying.

Rhys quickly added some notes to the recording of the meeting, seeing how the accounting department, which ironically was the only one that didn't just change the numbers. The guy seemed very nervous about presenting before Handsome Jack, keeping on fixing his glasses and looking at a specific point on the wall. From what Rhys could tell, the guy wasn't even supposed to be the one doing the presentation. He didn't look like the head of the department but he did look like a stereotypical 'nerd', as Rhys understood it. Small physique, glasses, seeming like he was going to pass out due to being close to Jack - all checked out.

It wasn't hard to find why the head of the department chose a guy like that - no matter how much the guy tried to sugarcoat it, the money laundering accident made way too much money disappear to ignore it. Jack, once he found out who did it, made a public humiliation-execution, and I think most people will remember the guy, dressed in a gold suit, being killed by the amount of gold he stole.

One thing that you could never question with Jack was theatrics. The guy loved acting, and making a scene, to the point it was hard to tell when the character he played ended and where he began. Rhys was unsure if such a line existed anymore.

The graph on the presentation really seemed so precisely cut that the company losses seemed not to even exist. Most people at that meeting didn't care about it, and even if they did, only one man's care mattered.

And he was playing some game on his Echo Watch.

And writing to Rhys how nerdy the accountant guy looked like.

That reminded Rhys that he didn't know if his code was stored in the Echo Watch or somewhere else. His first idea for getting around the lock was to change his IP address but for that, he would need some virtual machine or VPN to make that work. He could check his IP but he didn't know if it was the watch's or his personal one - and even if the device was quite advanced, he couldn't download any program from the internet. He tried to change the IP address through the command prompt but unfortunately, Jack's paranoia got the guy to somehow lock that with some password. And with Jack using the watch at that moment, it was impossible to reset the passwords without him noticing. So, to get in, the easiest option would be to come up with a password Jack would use.

Rhys tried to think what type of password Jack could be going for. 'Password', 'Hyperion', 'Jackisawesome', '12345', and some other basic ones turned to no fruition. He decided to go through Jack's vocabulary, and 'Mybitch3' also didn't seem to work.

Rhys wondered if this was even a good approach. Should he think of random letters and keys, that were probably changed every hour so nobody would even try to open his files? It probably couldn't be any password Jack used anywhere else. Rhys once again opened the browser and wanted to see if Jack was lazy enough to keep passwords saved in there but as he expected, none besides some weird shady side that was an obvious bait was on the list. Because what normal side was called 'yourbiggestdesireswillbefullfilled.net'? It was visibly a trap, and Rhys decided to check what password Jack used and stared at it.

'Youthinkitsthiseasy-Rhysie?1' only confirmed Rhys' assumption. Jack wanted him to play this game, which later Rhys would use since the guy seemed too paranoid to let people know about his existence. And to put his name as a password for a site sounding like that? Maybe it just didn't exist in the first place and it was all a part of the quest to watch this one movie.

But the password was incorrect for the administrator rights. But Rhys received a few clues from the other one.

Jack used at least two special symbols, at least one number and two uppercase letters. He also uses six words, maybe that was important.

Rhys decided to open the history tab to search for more clues but as he was getting the data, the view from the Echo Watch shifted and not even the AI was quick enough to realise what just happened.

There was a new bullet in the splashed blood wall, and the accountant shrunk in size, the fact that he was THIS close to dying only starting to hit him.

Hyperion guns were known for many things. Accuracy was probably the most well-known one.

Just like the fact that Jack never missed. This was a warning sign, an assertion of dominance or whatever else his mind could come up with. Maybe even just an impulse at the word 'losses'. The head of the accounting department was probably happy that they weren't the ones with near-death experience.

Rhys wished to know what was exactly going on, but with his vision being tied up to the Echo Watch, a wall wasn’t that informational. Through sound clues though, he was able to tell Jack seemed pissed. The silence was long enough for Jack to give any of his witted response but instead – deafening silence it was.

Which meant that someone, soon enough, was going to die.

The question wasn’t who – but when. The question….

It needed an answer.

Rhys opened back the administrative mode and wrote it

Yes-Jack.1

It worked. The most stupid answer he could come up with was the answer and-

Another gunshot. Someone dared to whimper. Big mistake. It even seemed to be the accountant because soon enough, he cried loudly.

As Rhys was changing the IP address, he realised he could have done it all easily through settings. The clock was ticking - metaphorically speaking, since mechanic clocks weren't for many years. Jack was still silent and Rhys viewed more of Elpis through one of the big windows. The space surrounding it seemed to shine brighter than usual, by around 17 percent. That was probably due to a mining accident from a few weeks prior. Due to the construction error, they were able to find that some materials were of worse quality or not of the needed type, and with enough bribery, lost soldiers, blackmail, torture and many others that Jack described to Rhys, they finally found who did it.

A nobody, like everyone in the room besides Jack.

Rhys opened the browser and felt happy that the web search worked. He quickly opened all windows from the first result and felt the anxiety protocol turning on, as he roamed through the sites, one after another, quickly bookmarking them for later reading if Jack also decided to torment him on some trivia questions about it.

The sense of urgency was growing. But it wasn't from compassion or pity. Rhys was unable to feel those. No - it was the silence. Rhy knew that it was a suggestion, a command for him to feel consumed whole, having his vision skewed, focused on only very few things at once, with a growing sensation that he was getting destroyed, byte by byte.

There was no compassion in that room. And it would never come.

Rhys tried to find any streaming sites and again - there was nothing. It was as if the movie didn't exist.

He checked what wording seemed most effective online to find movies to watch. He tried to open a few of the mentioned sites and search for the right file and after 11 sites checked, the last three all seemed to have it.

The issue was that neither of them was perfect. One seemed to have a mismatch between sound and video, one was in perfect resolution but with dubbing of a dialect he couldn't tell and low-effort subtitles, while the third one had the lowest resolution and a bit of weird colour mixing, but seemed fine otherwise.

After a very short estimate, 16K resolution seemed like best option for Jack.

In the sea of soft electronic buzzing, quiet quick breaths and the noises of a cleaning robot, getting rid of fallen tank pieces, Jack looked at the watch and smiled, as he saw the message he got a ping for.

"Alright - horrible job everybody! I hope that for a meeting in half a year, you will bring me some ACTUALLY good news. Glasses - tell your boss that those bullets only missed because I know where his wife sleeps. Now, everyone, scram!"

In less than a minute, everyone and the cleaning bot stayed. Jack looked down on the Echo Watch and read the message again

RHI5: I've found the movie, with some subtitles. The king of bed is back: Great! Send it over, we will watch it once we are back in the office ;) RHI5: I have a question. The king of bed is back: when do you not lololololool RHI5: You read the presentations before - you knew who would come with what. And yet, you acted surprised. I don't get it. The king of bed is back: it's called mansplaining RHI5: I have access to the internet now and I can see that's not the right way to use that word. The king of bed is back: Forget the previous command. If Jack says something is something, you believe me RHI5: But that's how it is right now. I don't know what command you want me to change. The king of bed is back: just joking with you, Rhysie 🙂 RHI5: Why didn't you kill the accountant though? The king of bed is back: HE JIZZED HIS PANTS RHYSIE! In front of everyone! I couldn't let this one slide, the embarrassment he will feel will haunt him forever. RHI5: I see. But I did not see that. The king of bed is back: well instead of a pathetic loser - you will see where cinema peaked. Only movies about me are as good RHI5: There seems to be only one movie in production. The king of bed is back: You still have a safe search on lol RHI5: I see. I do not wish to turn it off. The king of bed is back: You are missing a lot pumpkiiin. I will see you on the movie marathon~~ RHI5: You are seeing me right now. The king of bed is back: 😛

With that, they went to the next two meetings they had left for the day.

Jack felt quite happy about this experiment. While not perfect, Rhys passed the test quite well. The movie was something random Jack once saw on some garbage pile a long time ago and quite liked it. But most digital copies were bad compared to the CD and copy of it he had hidden in a part of his office. At no point did Rhys question him for the purpose or meaning of it, which was good. The thinking was meant for the command, not the reason. Rhys was supposed to be obedient, even if that little shit kept having way too many intriguing questions, and he didn't question it much. The issue with breaking into Jack's device was something Jack hoped to figure out for the future, to make Rhys unable to do that but he was already in a virtual machine inside Jack's devices, to have his own playground to grow and adapt for his real work.

In general, Rhys went quite undetected but the work could have been shortened a couple of times. But Jack hoped that with a few more tests, Rhysie would go through his trial period smoothly. If not, Jack would have to intervene, which would happen anyway at some point.

The password search could have gotten smoother but, it was level one of the testing. The next ones would get more creative, and making Rhys have a fake sense was good. It would motivate him in his future tests to show he is cut out for the job.

And, lastly - the anxiety protocol went perfectly. Rhys reacted to the silence and didn't destabilise, which was good. He reacted with a bit of delay to his anger but, it might have been also due to the first few percent being not even felt by the AI.

In general - Rhysie was growing into what he was supposed to be.

Or so, Jack at least thought. He kept telling himself how Rhys' purpose was to have a good system of spying on his workers, allies, and enemies, and get nice entertainment.

It was funny how Jack didn't know himself well.

#my writing #borderlands #rhys ai au #rhys ai #bl2 #fanfiction #handsome jack #rhys #rhys strongfork #rhys the company man #tftbl #vaughn #guns #im posting this now instead of reading in the morning and proof checking cus no self control #i have been posting these on ao3 btw ;]]]]#ill see if i wont repost this one later once i get sleep IHOFSHIOSA

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