#rota au

[goggles-mcgee]

Too Late: Epilogue

The last chapter of this story for @miner249er

First Story in Series

Beginning Chapter         

Last Chapter

Summary: Wu Fei came back from training only to hear news that changed her whole world, meanwhile Nooroo's mind wanders while he watched over Marinette. 

Wu Fei was someone who liked to believe that she grew from her mistakes. She had faith she had in fact done so, but she knew she had not accomplished it alone. She owed thanks to her French-Chinese friend, Marinette. Oh, she knew a lot of it was herself but the other teen helped her realize the difference between Revenge and Justice when she had still been lost and hurt. Losing her adoptive father, Wu Shifu, had been a hurt that she believed nothing could soothe, but she lived as though it hadn’t hurt as badly as it had. But losing someone who loved you, cared for you, raised you, CHOSE you, was something she never wished upon anyone. Not even an enemy. Her bàba was her family, whether they shared blood or not, he could have taken her somewhere else like the CWI or a hatch house but he didn’t. He took her in and adopted her and he told her it was the best thing he had ever done as he believed she was a blessing. Thinking of him still hurt but it was more bittersweet than the blinding pain it used to be. Memories of them together were held near and dear to her heart and now she strived to be the woman he taught her to be.

That was the reason she left to train. Fei had strayed from the path she had been taught and wanted to remedy that immediately after she had acquired the Prodigious. The powers she had gained were exhilarating but she did not doubt the weight of their responsibility thus another reason to train. It wasn’t easy. Nothing worth it ever is, but she was proud to say all the training paid off. Her only regret was not being in contact with Marinette for so long but Mei Shi was a strict mentor when it came to her training for the Prodigious and for becoming another Guardian of the Sacred Cave and forbid outside distractions. Though the being was rather fond of Marinette whenever Fei and her called or messaged one another, Mei Shi usually asked Fei to send his well wishes to the French-Chinese girl. Now that training was done, Fei couldn’t wait to get back to their talks whether they were deep or meaningless, she missed her friend, her only friend. 

That was why, as soon as training was done, she immediately sent a message to let her friend know she was finished and they should find a day that worked for both of them so they could video chat. She didn’t get a response the first day. That was okay, Marinette was a busy individual and when she was busy she tended to neglect her phone much the same way that Fei herself did when she herself was in a creative zone and deep into her training with Mei Shu. But the days kept passing and messages went with no responses, let alone read and Fei grew more worried. She even called Marinette’s parents bakery but either the line was busy or no longer in use. Her worry increased to the point she was in an anxious frenzy and had no idea what to do short of finding a way to Paris to make sure her friend was okay. Then she remembered Cheng Wang and his open invitation to visit him and his restaurant whenever she wanted. Whether she needed a meal or simply needed someone to talk to. It was an offer that Fei really appreciated but rarely took up. 

It was time to take up that offer to make sure her friend was okay because Fei had a bad feeling and usually her bad feeling’s were always something worth fretting over. She was scared. This feeling wasn’t something like the time she had a bad feeling and realized she was missing an ingredient from a potion that Mei Shu had been instructing her to make, an important ingredient. The result had been…less than ideal but nothing life threatening. No, this feeling made her heart pound, her lungs squeeze, her body tense and her stomach sick. It only came when she thought of Marinette and she was about ready to use her dragon form to take her to Paris but she couldn’t be impulsive. Impulsivity caused mistakes, mistakes caused consequences you might not be ready nor willing to face. Fei had to be smart, she had to be calm, she had to be rational and going to Cheng Wang was what her rational thoughts were screaming and she was not going to deny them as they were the only good ideas she was having. 

One short yet long-feeling trip had Fei standing in front of The Thousand Delights restaurant and to her surprise it had a closed sign taped to the door and windows. Fei’s heart dropped when she read it was for an undetermined amount of time but that it was not forever. The restaurant was closing for a family emergency and a little voice inside Fei whispered, Marinette. Desperately wanting to be wrong, Fei ran up the stairs to Master Cheng’s apartment that was located above the restaurant, much like his niece and her husband. The door was ajar and though she knew it was incredibly rude not to knock or saw something to announce her presence, Fei’s heart was racing, something was wrong and she needed to help so she just entered the home in a rush. There was no thought of her shoes on the floors, only to see if Master Cheng was okay, to see the problem, to fix the problem. Except there was no problem, well, not one she could see besides Master Cheng packing a suitcase. He was leaving? Why was he leaving? 

Master Cheng blinked at her in confusion, he didn’t even reprimand her about her shoes, he was usually a stickler for rules. “Fei?”

“Master Cheng…what…what’s going on?” Maybe it was too broad a question but Fei didn’t know a lot of things at the moment and Master Cheng was the only one who could give her answers. 

The heart-broken, desperate look he gave her did not make things better. “Oh Little One,” He had taken to calling her that and Marinette Littler One, “You do not know.”

“No. Know what? I…I’ve been training.”

“Come. Sit. I will…I will make us some tea.” Master Cheng said after a moment as he moved away from his suitcase to lead Fei more into his apartment and close the door. 

“What? But-”

“Believe me. You will need the tea.”

Fei didn’t argue but she did toe off her shoes and set them by the door before she made her way to sit on one of the couches to wait. She didn’t want to wait but she knew she had to be patient. But how could she be patient when she knew the news she was about to receive was bad enough to warrant tea? The urge to bite her nails was strong but Mei Shu had been working really hard with her to break that particular habit. Though the more seconds that passed the more they felt like hours and the more impatience began to consume Fei. Restlessness crawled up her legs and seized her heart and she was almost about to just get up and go help despite how rude it might come across. Master Cheng was a kind person but she had no doubt he would be upset if she busted into the kitchen and interrupted him so she bounced a leg to try and occupy her and burn some of her restless energy. 

“Sorry for the wait, I forgot I had packed my favorite tea to go with me on my trip.” Master Cheng announced softly as he walked into the room with his teapot and two cups on a tray. Fei even spotted some cookies. 

“No worries.” Fei replied even if the words tasted bitter like a lie. She watched as Master Cheng placed the tray gently on the little coffee table and arranged everything on the table for them to reach them comfortably. She watched as he poured them both a cup of his favorite Longjing Green Tea, it brought a small secretive smile to her face as she recalled its other name, Dragon Well. It was something so simple and yet it made her feel a little less frantic and stressed, that seemed to be the normal when it came to her visits with Master Cheng. He was such a calming presence to be around. “You, You mentioned a trip?” 

Master Cheng took a seat across from her and picked up his own cup of tea and blew at the steam and sighed. “Yes. I am taking a trip to Paris…You…You haven’t heard… anything?” 

The way he said it, much like before, like it was something that weighed on his mind, on his shoulders, on his very spirit. “I’m afraid not. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve been away training with a new mentor. He is…old fashioned and strict but kind, but while training he forbade outside distractions.”

“Ah, I had a great aunt like that. She had a thing about technology, I assume your mentor is much the same.”

“He is.”

Master Cheng nodded and stared off into his cup of tea for a moment before he brought it up to his lips and took a sip. “Much has happened back in Paris I’m afraid…”

Fei’s heart skipped a beat but she forced herself to shakily take a sip of her tea before she did anything rash. She swallowed the tea and then swallowed her lips before she asked, “Marinette? Is it…Does it have to do with Marinette?” 

The silence that followed was answer enough.

“What happened?” Fei asked after she had a sip of her tea and after the silence started to feel more than a little suffocating. 

Master Cheng took in a deep breath before he placed his cup on the saucer and back on the table between them. He stared down at his hands for a few seconds before he looked up at her. Eye contact had never felt so foreboding. “Marinette is…she is missing.”

Missing?

She couldn’t be.

Marinette couldn’t be missing, she just couldn’t. Please not Fei’s first friend. Not her best friend.

“It started with an akuma. I assume you are…familiar with them in the sense you have heard of them.”

All Fei could do was nod, her throat was too choked up. 

“The akuma was…She was…Marinette was the akuma.” Master Cheng admitted and when he did so it seemed like it tore a bit of himself away. He looked so pained by the admission that Fei knew without a doubt he had actually felt that odd flash of pain one felt squeeze their heart in times of true sadness and panic. 

And yet. She still wanted to doubt what he said despite her gut telling her he was being truthful. “No…Marinette would never…”

Master Cheng looked so bitterly resigned before he spoke again, “There is this American writer I am fond of. She has written many words, said probably many more but there is this one quote I can never forget. ‘The human capacity for burden is like bamboo – far more flexible than you’d ever believe at first sight.’ It is a thought provoking quote and an inspirational one, but like many things…bamboo can break with enough determination and the right tools.”

“Marinette…she’s the bamboo.”

“We all are, but in this case? Yes. I guess things were not going well in her class, quite the opposite in fact. It wasn’t one big thing that hit her, rather it was many things, some small, some not. It’s only human to break after that much pressure. The only thing is that Paris had a madman set out to use any strong negative emotion against everyone.” 

“Had. You…You said, ‘had’.” Fei pointed out.

It made Master Cheng chuckle, albeit weakly. “You are very smart, very intuitive. Marinette…as an akuma…this is rather hard to explain…”

It certainly seemed hard to explain. Fei couldn’t see how Marinette as an akuma connected to the past tense talk of Paris’ supervillain. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s no fault of yours.”

“Nor yours.”

“...True. It’s just…the circumstances make one feel like they could have done more. I could have done more,” Master Cheng insisted, his voice thick with tears and it was such a shock to Fei. She had never seen him cry. Never. “Marinette was not happy, I noticed this in our last call but she brushed aside my concern and thought it best to give her space. If I had done more, if I had pressed…maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe The Followers would have never happened.”

“Th-The Followers?”

“Even as an akuma, Marinette wanted to protect people, she called herself The Protector. Not much is known about what she did before but…the akuma because I know Marinette could never, the akuma supposedly beat Gabriel Agreste and his assistant to the point of immediate hospitalization. It’s not confirmed but it is heavily speculated that he and his assistant were in fact-”

“Hawkmoth and Mayura.” Fei gasped. It made sense. Too much sense and yet not enough at the same time. “She…she saved Paris…but how…how did she end up missing then?”

“No one knows. She saved everyone and then just disappeared. No heroes were seen that day. Marinette was never defeated as an akuma. Never-”

“Never purified!” Fei couldn’t help but finish, her mind was going a mile a minute. 

“Indeed. She disappeared as an akuma and…she left behind overzealous fans. Fans of her akuma form and those who believe she was Ladybug which it seems was the truth. These people became a group who basically became more of a cult, they, in her name, decided they too would ‘protect’ Paris. In doing so they have murdered a woman, maybe a man, they have put two young ladies in the hospital, one more injured than the other and they have taken it upon themselves to ‘protect’ the memory of their messiah.” Master Cheng explained with an obvious heavy heart.

“The Protector…”

Master Cheng nodded. “That’s why I am going to Paris. This cult has stolen many items that Marinette has made by hand for others. They have even gone as far as breaking into Sabine and Tom’s bakery and apartment. They have already taken objects but I’m going over to help pack the rest of Marinette’s things and bring them back here. We don’t want them getting their hands on anything else and I honestly don’t think Sabine would be able to handle anymore thefts.”

Fei felt an all too familiar feeling of loss hit her full force but she refused to buckle under its pressure like she had done before. Not when she knew there was still hope. Hope to find and see her friend again. “I’m coming with.”

_________________________

Nooroo did his best not to panic at the fact that Marinette was still unconscious but it was an old habit that was not so easy to break. Even if he could feel she was perfectly fine through their connection. A connection that comforted him yet confused him, it was like no connection he had ever made before. There was always some kind of connection between a Kwami and the Holder of their Miraculous, especially if they were a Harmony, a perfect match. Then there was the opposite of that which was a Dissonance, a very imperfect match one that could be destructive if a Holder still forced a transformation. If a Kwami was in a Dissonance for too long it would result in damage done to the Miraculous which is what happened to Duusuu unfortunately. The two souls would continue to clash within the transformation without the wearer being aware until they started being affected by it. The Holder would succumb to either the injuries or the illness they were cursed with and the Miraculous would break and infuse itself with that curse.

Emilie Agreste had unfortunately learned of this curse first hand despite Duusuu’s continued warnings. At some point Nooroo stopped caring what would happen to the woman, Duusuu had warned her and pleaded for her so many times, it had to be pure stupidity or desperation to ignore them and though Nooroo shared a fascination of humanity with Tikki, he felt irritated in the face of their stupidity. Duusuu though, poor Duusuu was a bleeding heart and had a soft spot for the blonde woman and did her best to save her. Even if Duusuu hadn’t tried, their fate had been sealed the moment Emilie fell into a coma and Gabriel Agreste showed some of the worst humanity had to offer. Duusuu was spared for a good amount of time while Nooroo had been chained to power-hungry Holder once more. It had happened before but not like this. 

The sad part was that Gabriel could have been a good enough Holder for him, not a Harmony but close but his actions and the change he went through caused the connection between them to go askew, closer to a Dissonance but never reaching that level. The only reason it never did was because Gabriel at least had the brain to feed him, even if it wasn’t as often as it should have been and he let him rest though he never went out of his way to make sure Nooroo was okay or comfy. A good bond with a Kwami was essential to the growth of a connection thus the growth of power a Miraculous had. Being free of Gabriel was like plunging into cool waters after being in intense heat for an extended period of time, all the shackles of the commands he was given were broken and it was like he could finally feel.

Marinette had freed him, though not entirely herself. She possessed the power of a Champion, those who fought for the Butterfly Miraculous though Gabriel had twisted the magic so much that they couldn’t even be called Champions when he made them, much like past Holders who used the Butterfly Miraculous in such a way, the man gave the creatures he created new names. He dubbed them Akumas. From what Nooroo could recall of his time in Japan so many years ago, he recalled the different meanings: demon, devil, fire spirit, group of undefined beings that brought pain and suffering. It fit in a poetic way. Marinette was no Akuma, but to call her a Champion didn’t feel right either. She became something entirely different when she accepted the butterfly in the height of her hurt and anger, when she accepted all of them, when she felt for them, when she sympathized with them. 

Nooroo was as much Marinette’s as she was his and he knew he would be safe as long as he was with her. He would protect her too, as much as he could. “Don’t worry Little Caterpillar, we’ll get through this and out of it, you will blossom and transform.” He muttered softly as he ran a little hub through her hair. 

“Oh. Hello there! It’s not very often I see my kind here. Actually not often at all.” A voice startled Nooroo enough to nearly make him fall into Marinette’s hair. He flew up and turned every direction he could until his eyes focused on what was definitely a Kwami. One he did not recognize. 

“You…You are a Kwami, but not one I know…” 

The Kwami laughed, though not unkindly. “That’s not surprising. I was one of the younger ones and not many knew of me before my Miraculous went missing from the Box I was part of.”

That somewhat answered Nooroo’s question and yet didn’t and left him with more. “I am Nooroo. Kwami of Transmission and Hope.”

“Oooo formal greeting! Okay.” The Kwami cleared its throat before it introduced itself. “I am Frenze. Kwami of Strength and Friendship! It’s nice to meet you Nooroo, why did you come to this island? Was it with that human? Why is that human asleep? Where’s your boat? Did you even come on boat? Oh my goodness! Are you guys shipwrecked? Did you fall overboard?”

Yep. Definitely a Kwami of friendship.

CWI - Children's Welfare Institute is an orphanage located in Shanghai, China

hatch house or also known as a baby hatch - A baby hatch is a small home where parents drop off children, where they hopefully will be taken to an orphanage. The Ministry of Civil Affairs began the baby hatch program as a response to the increasing number of abandoned infants. Currently, there are 32 baby hatches across China, and each hatch only accepts children from within the same city.

[miracles-and-butterflies]

What is cold sisters relationship in Alas Rotas?

Non-existent and/or shit.

Isabela and Luisa don’t get along great. You’d kinda expect it if someone was constantly praised and put on a pedestal for doing nothing, while you overworked yourself for every single chore in town and rarely get to have a lunch break, never mind a “thank you”.

Mirabel doesn’t get the chance to interact with either of her sisters, so has no real relationship with them.

[meggsssart]

My precious blorbo Elden

Typical good boy paladin who is this close to being done with his party's lawless bullshit

[caruliaa]

starship au thts the same except the planet its set on is pnf404 and bug is a pikmin. the characters r the same characters theyre just like pikmin creatures and the starship rangers r like hocotations or koppaites and also maybe the rescue corp instead of the starship rangers but maybe not bc the rescue corp randomly going to a planet makes no sense actually makes a lot more sense for it to be hocotaite frieght or like. the koppaites going to pnf404 for fruit maybe but honestly they can still just be the starship rangers but pikmin version. the point is it wld be so slay . whos with me .

[fandom-trash-xl]

Just putting the hypothetical out there, but I think, out of the U6 Saiyan pack, the one that'd be the best fit to go Majin would be Cabba

We know that Caulifla is the one with the hot head who'd have the power cravings, but Cabba having this opportunity presents more of shock, having the most rational and well-composed suddenly snap like a twig from the emotional burden he carries on his back. Plus, after all, Cabba is intended as Vegeta's Universe 6 parallel in a sense, just as Caulifla is to Goku and Kale is to Broly/Gohan.

The manipulation that forces him to succumb? Being convinced that this power will be key to achieving justice. Of course there's the consequence of absolute power corrupting absolutely.

In this hypothetical, when Frost comes to trial for the truth he reveals during the Tournament, the truth is somehow retwisted in his favor, Cabba is prevented from stepping forth as the key witness to his confession, and the lizard manages to get away scot-free. Cabba feels absolutely betrayed, infuriated that his voice has no power against the lizard who manipulated him for so long. He wants to be heard, be taken seriously.... so he is given a chance to put justice into his own hands, to take down Frost himself. The corruption of power ultimately twists Cabba into a sort of Light Yagami type.

But you may ask, where would the Majin powerup come from? Who's the equivalent Babidi to pull strings in this universe? Well, he's been lying in plain sight as the supposed weak link of the Tournament of Power...

...Dr. Rota.

Cabba ends up crossing paths with the witch doctor, a peddler of spell cards and talismans. When the Saiyan vents out his tale, it intrigues the boar, telling him to follow him to the back. Rota believes he has quite the special spell for such a case as Cabba's.

[breadedsinner]

You've heard of Flower Shop/Tattoo Parlor AU now get ready for ... Wooden Dice Maker/Metal Dice Maker AU.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Advent Calendar: Day 28 @whosxafraid​

“O’RIAN! Report to the Captain’s office immediately.” The Voice of God crackles across the sickening heat. “Oh, shit, dude,” House says from his perfect position of hiding in plain sight, standing beside the other SEAL. “You forgot to polish the dolphins. I even reminded you.” Luka mutters something about House’s mother mating with dolphins behind a dumpster and straightens. His shirt sticks to his back with sweat and his face is soured by the too-bright sun causing him to squint, the too-dry air clinging to him like saran-wrap made of dust. He grabs his shovel and slings it across his shoulders, then quick-jogs over to the Qwonset that acts as administration. Salutes the man once he’s crossed over into the Captain’s office. His mind races over every conceivable scenario he can think of, enumerating in his mind what possible sin he’s committed. “At ease. We just received TDY orders for you. You’ve got fifteen minutes to shower, shit, and shave before you and your seabag are sitting on the bird that just landed.” “...Sir?” “I know you didn’t just ask me questions, son. Get going.” Hurry up and wait is a game Luka knows well and the wait takes the shape of a lift from Camp to NAMRU-3, then a longer flight to NAVSTA Rota. It isn’t until he’s herded off a chauffeured civilian car that it all comes across as a conspiracy, a second small travel bag added to his seabag, and a manilla envelope gets shoved in his hands, the details of his TDY. One that grants him 48 hours of leave from his post. Signed by the Rear-Admiral, and a note on white unlined paper. The heavy scrawl already familiar if the greeting didn’t give it away. ~ UF, you’re my gift. Make the best of it but I swear to Christ if she isn’t happy when she goes home, I’m sending you back to yours in a box. Seriously though, I had to ask for a favour, something I never do. Just make sure the package in the included bag gets under her tree or by her coffee cup, and play it stupid if she asks about Santa. Don’t think that’ll be hard.

And Merry Christmas, frognuts. R.~ It’s an entire villa that was rented out, decorated beautifully and tastefully in a style that isn’t the happy chaos of his childhood, or the much more manic style he’s seen back in New York. But when he walks in and sets his bag down? She’s standing there, staring at the pool, or the cliff beyond where the ocean is kissing the shore with white capped waves. She jumps out of her skin, clearly not expecting anyone, before she turns. The way she holds her wine glass, it might as well have been a knife. A second ticks by, followed too closely by another as she fixes him with those wide Disney princess eyes. “Lulu?!” A single word drawn out in a throaty gasp. She sets the glass down carefully, its sherry or wine completely forgotten, and before he can even answer, she’s running. Launching herself at him. “LULU!” Arms all but choke him. Legs coil around his hips with the intention of blocking blood flow, and her lips press against his neck. Maybe Christmas is made for miracles, but Riley’s still a dick.

[sp4ceboo]

Maniac: OT8!Stray Kids x Reader

genre: a/b/o au, omegaverse, medieval au, ot8 x reader, pack dynamics, afab!reader, smut and angst and fluff

summary: you're your pack's only omega - when your alphas are taken from you, you refuse to rest until you're reunited with them

A/N: i loved writing this so come get your food i hope u guys like it <33

tw: 18+, a lot of smut (p in v, bath sex, knots and all that a/b/o shit, mentions of breeding ofc, 1 accidental pass out, oral - m&f recieving, face fucking, so much cum oh god, crying during sex, bit of mxm at points, somno but not much, lots of praise, one instance of finger sucking, manhandling, overstimulation, a spank, no mentioned protection because sorry it's medieval times, back scratching and biting, creampie, reader basically gets run a train on, a few 3some type things, dw there is also soft smut, guys please pee after sex), gore, blood, death, fighting, evil creepy dude, mention of past trauma, swearing, mistreatment of omegas, half assed editing, porn plot 50-50 split i reckon

wc: 12.98k

The moment the heavy wooden door of the smithy splinters and gives way, you bolt upright. Minho is already out of bed, the sheets still warm from where he was lying beside you, and you catch the glint of steel in his hand as he stands by the window, peering out at the street below; Seungmin is gone, his side of the mattress cold. Your heart stutters, and you stiffen at the all too familiar musky scent that permeates the air, rising up from between the rickety floorboards.

‘Goemul?’ You ask.

Minho nods grimly. ‘Who else?’

‘Fuck. He won’t leave me alone, will he?’

‘We won’t let him anywhere near you,’ he replies, voice low and full of anger.

You squeeze your eyes shut when Minho tucks an arm around your waist and presses you to him, pushing your nose into his neck; breathing in his scent - rain and sweet vanilla - you allow yourself a moment of comfort in his strong embrace before breaking away. A crash sounds below, and you grab your staff.

Jisung bursts in. You smell the fight on him before you see the bruising blooming across his face; there’s adrenaline spiking his scent and blood splattered across his front - not his, you note with relief. There’s a wild look in his eyes, the same look you saw the first time Goemul came for you.

‘He’s back, and with more troops,’ he gasps. ‘Chan says - ’

A chilling battle cry rings out, cutting him off.

Ice skitters down your spine. None of your pack are arrogant enough to have a signature war cry - there’s only one person that could be. Minho visibly bristles, his fingers flexing on the hilt of his sword before he shoulders open the bedroom door and you hear his footsteps pound down the stairs. You move to follow, but Jisung grabs your wrist.

‘Chan says you have to go. You need to run.’

You scoff. ‘Absolutely not. This is my pack.’

An edge enters Jisung’s voice. ‘And you’re our omega.’

You give him a look and he can see there’s no way he can convince you - you sprint down the stairs, him hot on your heels. Immediately, the smell of the fight overwhelms you as your feet hit the floor: at least twenty other alphas versus your eight, and a few betas fighting amongst the enemy too. Face twisted fiercely and teeth bared, Hyunjin barrels by, slashing at a stocky, snarling alpha with a rusted sword. It’s one of the ones Felix had scavenged for melting down, and you can see the wooden hilt is rotting.

Without hesitation, you raise your hand, and the attack runes painted there for an occasion just like this glow azure blue, so bright they’re almost white, and the alpha collapses, his heart ruptured in his chest. Panting, Hyunjin glances up and gives you a nod before diving back into battle, aiding Jeongin with the two betas tag teaming him.

You thrust yourself into the melee, fighting with both a sword you snatch off a fallen knight and your runes and staff. Energy begins to flow from you, leaking from your soul each time you use your runes - you’re careful to rotate your usage of the different ones inscribed on your skin, making sure you don’t tire a specific one, yet still you feel the itch of their overuse, and the knights pouring in aren’t thinning.

You catch sight of Goemul through the grappling bodies, and a flash of pure fear rivets you to the spot despite yourself. He’s locked in combat with Chan, but the spike in your scent catches both their attention, Goemul’s roar piercing through the sound of clashing blades. Chan hands seamlessly over to Changbin, and you feel his gaze pinpoint on you as he cuts through any attackers that try to stop him as he approaches.

You try to ignore his insistent stare, instead whacking one of the intruders over the head with your staff and forcefully bringing your knee up into his stomach. Chan is sweaty, his shoulders heaving from the fight, and guilt stings your chest - if it wasn’t for you, Goemul and his pack wouldn’t be here.

‘I thought I told Jisung to tell you to run.’

His voice is rough, raspy no doubt from shouting orders to the boys, and nearly drowned out from the din of the fight, yet you hear him clearly, attuned to the sound of your pack leader’s voice.

‘I wanted to stay and fight. It’s my fault, anyway.’

‘This is not your fault,’ Chan snaps. ‘We all knew Goemul would come after you.’

‘And yet you took me in anyway,’ you mutter.

He gives you a sharp look. ‘You need to run. We’re not going to last much longer. We’re tired, and we weren’t expecting it. We need you to break us out when they take us prisoner.’

You don’t think about the other option, the option that doesn’t include taking prisoners and includes death, instead breathing out an anxious: ‘What if I can’t?’

‘I know you can. I trust you, omega.’

Even in the midst of a fight, Chan knows what to say to put you at ease. He knows what is needed to look after his pack, and you know that he knows this, without doubt. You can see that your alphas are tiring, can see that this attack came as a surprise - Changbin is fighting with a hammer used for shaping swords, for fuck’s sake.

You swallow thickly. ‘I love you, Channie. Keep them safe, please. Keep yourself safe.’

Curtly, he nods. No promises. You turn on your heel and run.

You’ve been told all your life that omegas don’t fight, that omegas aren’t fierce. Omegas don’t retaliate, and they take whatever they’re given by their alphas without complaint.

Too bad that’s all been proven official bullshit.

The night is hostile. Clouds scuttle across the sky, polluting the moon’s pure silver light, and the soggy leaves beneath your feet muffle your footsteps - it’s cold, dark, damp, but you’re kept warm by the hot fury that you’ve been nursing since that night, knotted in a ball nestled right beside your heart.

Leaves are flattened beneath your boots. Wind weaves its way thinly through the tree trunks, singing lowly to itself. The stars are blotted from the sky, the moon a thin, faltering sliver. You walk onwards, staff sturdy against your palm.

Tonight is a perfect night for revenge.

Tonight you’re going to make sure Goemul leaves your pack alone for good, and tonight you’re going to make sure that you’re reunited with your alphas. It doesn’t matter that you’re an omega - you will fight. You can fight.

Your staff is testament to that. So are the attack runes painted in practised calligraphy on both your hands, the black ink winding up your forearms - you’ve added more since your alphas were taken from you, enough to extinguish the possibility of exhausting all of them. There are runes to boil a man’s brain in his skull, runes to explode his lungs even as he draws breath, runes made so you can protect your pack.

You are also half feral with the beginnings of your heat.

Blood rushes through your body, your heart pumping so hard in your chest you think it may punch through your ribs; your pupils are fully dilated, anticipating the fight. There’s a roaring in your ears, and intertwined in the thunderous, earsplitting noise of it is an insistent whisper: protect, protect, protect.

There’s no preventing this timing. Every second you spend without your pack, they could be hurting, bleeding, worse. All the preheat does is give you a vicious edge - the desperation of a cornered animal, the strength of one who has nothing else to lose.

You think this is what your ancestors must have felt, back when there were no cities, no castles made of rock, no swords or books, just the primal urge to hunt and fight and protect. You wonder if they smile down on you. You wonder if they slip silently across the narrow path before you, guiding you with ghostly hands, spurring you forward, closer to your pack, closer to the keep.

Closer to Goemul.

Once, he owned you. Owned you, because he does not believe omegas can belong - they can only be owned. You would spend nights curled on the stone floor, trying to rid yourself of his awful scent, nights where you would stare up at the pitiless rafters - even they smelt like him, wishing you were anywhere but where you were.

And then came Seungmin, carrying with him the scent of warm embers and freedom.

Somehow, here you are again, back on Goemul’s territory. You knew he wouldn’t let you go easily; you are proof to those he crushes beneath his boot heels that there is an escape.

There are two knights posted outside the keep’s wide wooden doors - thankfully ones that won’t recognise you. Faintly, you can hear the sounds of a feast within, yellow light spilling out into the night. Overhead, the clouds coalesce, and something in the air sharpens - the first patter of rain hits the tree canopy, muting your footsteps as you step forward.

‘Halt,’ one of the guards commands. ‘State your purpose.’

‘I’m just a blacksmith, sir,’ you reply meekly. ‘Looking to sell my wares to the lord and his men.’

The other guard grunts, sending a nod to the one who spoke, and swings open a hatch set in the big doors, the hinges groaning in protest. Ducking your head, you step into the great hall: it’s a huge, cavernous room made of rough, dark granite with flaming sconces fixed to the walls and violent tapestries hung between them; it’s where Goemul receives his guests.

Just the sight of the place makes your stomach turn, but it’s the heavy stench of musk that forces you to hide the shaking of your hands in the folds of your cloak. The musk in Goemul’s scent is heavy and suffocating, like a dirty, soaked blanket dumped discourteously over one’s head - nothing like Chan’s.

You glance around the hall. There are about three alphas to every omega in the room; the latter are interspersed throughout the former, either chained or collared - something that you remember all too well. Two lounge on the podium beneath Goemul’s chair, which is really more of a throne with its gaudy ornate carvings, their hands on him, their eyes brimming with fear.

You remember that, too.

And there, in the corner, you see them. Your nails dig into your palms. Your pack. Your pack. Crammed in a tiny cage, chained to a ring set in the wall, curled against each other. Nothing can hide the anger that rises in your scent when you see that Chan has pushed his way to the front, protecting his boys, bruises flowering across his face and neck and arms, dried blood smeared on his tattered shirt.

You know Goemul. You know that the cage is purpose built to hold prisoners used for entertainment.

Unmistakable now, fury soars on you, permeating the smell of the feast, permeating Goemul’s pungent musk.

Slowly, heads begin to turn. They don’t recognise you - you’ve masked your scent with runes scrawled down your collarbones and ringing your wrists, written over twice to hide the smell of your preheat. Still, they stare, with a sort of reluctant curiosity.

‘A blacksmith, my lord,’ one of the guards announces from behind you.

Goemul narrows his eyes, trying to see your face from the shadows of your hood. ‘What for?’

‘Looking to sell her wares, she said.’

He guffaws, and the sound of laughter ripples through those sitting at the banqueting table even though they don’t know what’s amusing him. Slowly, he gets to his feet, the two omegas scrambling to give him space - you see the glint of a chain pulling tight, fixed to the base of the podium. The guard beside you shuffles his feet nervously. Somewhere within the darkened cage, you swear you see someone stir.

‘What wares, guard?’

Gleefully, Goemul inhales like he’s feasting upon the guard’s fear as he realises you carry nothing, just the staff in your hand. You hear his muttered curse, the whoosh of air when he takes in a hurried breath, preparing to spill out apologies, not knowing how this has raised his lord’s wrath so intensely but knowing that he needs to beg and scrape if he wants to live.

‘Leave.’

Goemul’s voice hasn’t even finished ringing through the hall before the guard is tripping over himself to slam the hatch behind him, not waiting to see if his lord will withdraw his mercy. Slowly, Goemul settles back down on his throne, the omegas assuming their previous positions, their hands running over his legs as if to appease his anger.

You let your cowl fall back, revealing your features.

A murmur ripples through Goemul’s men.

He waits until they’re quiet. Around the room, the omegas watch you with wide eyes - you know they recognise you, you know they’re wondering why you would ever choose to return to this cursed place. Nearest to you, one jerks his head a little, as if to tell you to run.

‘I knew you’d come crawling back, my omega,’ he grins, smiling with too many teeth. ‘Although, I guess I do have something of yours, don’t I?’

‘I am not yours, Goemul,’ you hiss.

Lightning flares outside, followed by a strident clap of thunder.

‘Your pack is, though,’ he chuckles. ‘We had so much fun together, little omega. Channie and I are well acquainted now, since we had our nice pack leader to pack leader conversation.’

‘You keep his name out your mouth,’ you snap.

‘He bled a lot, though,’ Goemul muses, faking thoughtfulness. ‘I can’t seem to understand why.’

His dark eyes bore into yours, waiting to see your response. You can tell that he knows his goading is getting to you - he’s smiling that infernal smile, the one that makes you want to peel his skin from his bones and force it down his throat with a dagger.

Outside, thunder growls, low and furious.

You raise your staff. ‘You leave me no choice.’

Eyes locked on his, you bring it down. The oakwood hits the stone floor with a sound far louder than it should be, as if the very rock beneath your feet has split, rended apart down to the Earth’s very core. A muffled whoompf follows, and one by one, the torches in the sconces are snuffed out by an unseen force. Darkness descends.

All around, you sense scents spiking - they may be Goemul’s men, but they still feel fear; you doubt any of them have met someone who wields sorcery, let alone an omega. A hush falls over the hall, loaded with the anticipation before a fight.

‘A little bit of shadow won’t scare us, omega,’ Goemul calls.

You don’t reply. You’re busy stalking silently across the room, a key in your hand. It doesn’t matter that it’s not the one from the ring on Goemul’s belt - it’s covered all over with unlocking runes moulded right into the metal, something you forged yourself.

There’s a tinge of wild anger in Goemul’s voice when he speaks again. ‘Omega?’

When you reach through the bars of the cage, a warm, calloused hand is already waiting. Now that you’re close, you can smell their individual scents, the hurt and the exhaustion on them. Your eyes have adjusted to the gloom just enough that you can see Felix curled against Changbin, and although they’re both smiling proudly at you, eyes fierce, you can see the pain in their faces too. It sets bitter anger roiling within you, as deep and wrathful as the storm outside.

You know Goemul is listening. You hope he is, as the sound of a key in a lock and the clatter of chains rings out through the room. You hope he feels the control slipping through his desperate, clawing fingers as nervous whispers riffle through the great hall, as alphas reach for their swords, disbelieving that Goemul failed to make a single, lone omega submit to him.

And then, low and menacing and crystal clear, Chan growls.

You feel everyone in the hall freeze at the sound. There are no words to the deep rumble vibrating in his chest, just the white hot, primal fury of a leader whose pack has been hurt. Simply the tone of it roots half the men in the hall to the spot, the hairs on the backs of their necks rising, their palms slick with sweat as they stare wide eyed into the darkness.

‘Goemul,’ Chan snarls, stepping from the cage. ‘I swear I will not rest until you are dead.’

The last part comes out as a roar, and with it, chaos descends.

Before the echo of Chan’s voice has even died down, air whooshes past you - what must be Changbin and Minho shooting out of the cage. A strangled cry sounds as they finish off the closest two alphas, wrenching their swords from their belts to fight with. Someone’s hand brushes your waist as the rest of your pack members swiftly exit the cage: Felix, by the gentle scent of violets that washes over you, and yet on it you can almost taste the yearning to fight.

Your alphas are not vengeful. Protective, however, is a different story, and as each of their unique scents spread out across the room, meeting Goemul’s alphas that slash out blindly with their swords blow for blow, you know each of them are thinking of what all of you have gone through under Goemul’s orders.

Above it all, Goemul’s battle cry rings out, but you don’t flinch, don’t bat an eyelash - you’re ready for him this time, fresh runes all over your skin. Your alphas may be injured, but they’ve been cooped up in a too small cage for almost a week and they’re sure as hell fucking angry.

A feverish, clammy hand grabs your wrist. Hot air laced with the stink of ale puffs against your cheek. ‘Witch.’

You take a step forward, stabbing out with the butt of your staff and catching your attacker in the stomach. A throng of them have formed around you, angry and growling and still reeling that one omega has caused this much havoc, their movements uncoordinated and laced with more fear than any of them would ever admit.

Under the low illumination of the lightning strikes, you can just about see they’ve made a ring around you. Maybe they think that their numbers will prevail over your sorcery and they’ve got a quick kill, because some of them are smiling as if the fight’s already over. You almost feel sorry for them.

Almost.

As you strike out with your staff, you think of Chan, welcoming you into his pack, back when all you could do around alphas was flinch - patient, soft spoken Channie, bloodied by Goemul and his men from shielding the boys with his body, half conscious from the violence.

You think of Minho as you break a man’s nose, Minho who said little to begin with but would always be silently checking on you, making sure you were comfortable, leaving you an extra blanket in winter before he eventually slept by your side, his body warm against yours, currently with a split lip and cracked ribs.

You knock a man’s sword from his hand, catching it in your own, and think of Changbin, always there to make you smile and feel safe with his big arms and tight hugs, always acting tough but in truth all soft and gooey on the inside, his knuckles now bloodied and face twisted in pain.

While you cut down another alpha that runs at you, you think of Hyunjin, who calls you his muse, who crafts the most beautiful ornate daggers back at the smithy, and who gave you his favourite one with a sweet kiss on your forehead and a promise to never leave you, painted with bruises that spread wide over his back.

Your stolen blade clashes against an attacker’s as you think of Jisung, your Jisung who never fails to make you laugh, never fails to wrap his arms around you from behind when you need it most, beaten until he blacked out, his eyes almost swollen shut from the bruising.

The runes painted on your palms glow bright while you think of Felix, who baked you sweet treats and wiped your tears every day that they fell, who healed your soul with his sunshine smile, nose bloody and near broken from repeated blows.

Fatigue makes your arm tremble as you swing your sword, but you fight on, thinking of Seungmin, who was the first to find you, the first to plant the seed of hope, always the one who dispels your doubts with the sureness of his words, his head now bowed and teeth gritted to fight to keep down the cry that builds within him from the pain.

Your blade gets stuck between an alpha’s ribs, so you whirl your staff in your hands and think of Jeongin, sweet, sweet Jeongin who would hold your hand after the nightmares, whispering reassurances and holding you until you could fall asleep again, his big hands carding through your hair, bloodied and beaten for nothing but sport.

You fight, and as you do, you think of your alphas. You let the insistent whisper from before rise to become a roar, rise to drown out the sounds of the battle: protect, protect, protect. It burns like liquor as it rushes through your veins, and you find it strengthens you, even as the energy spills from you through the usage of your runes; it guides your blade, guides your staff, ensuring your strikes hit home.

And then, all of a sudden, no one’s attacking you any more.

No one is running at you with swords, derisive words on their lips, no one is throwing punches at you or trying to sweep your legs out from under you so they can kick you when you’re down. You sway a little, half expecting someone to appear out of nowhere, but all the remaining alphas subservient to Goemul are fighting elsewhere or have fled - they weren’t prepared, instead lulled into a false sense of safety within their own keep. There’s a ring of bodies slumped on the floor around you.

Something wrenches in your gut, twisting. A warning: your heat will be upon you soon - the longest you have left is a few hours. Sweat suddenly pricks at your body. You need to finish this, and quickly.

Chan blurs by, exchanging hurled punches and vicious kicks with Goemul. You’re leaning against your staff for support, catching your breath, but as three alphas dive into the melee, clawing at Chan’s back and hauling him off Goemul, and as you spot the two omegas, still chained to the podium and cowering under a half collapsed table, unable to escape, you find you aren’t really that tired after all.

You’re on Goemul within seconds.

He grins. ‘Hello again, my little omega - ’

You punch him across the face. Hard. His head snaps to the side, and you grab his shirt, slamming him once, twice against the hard, unforgiving floor of his great hall, savage red fog hazing your vision, not letting up even when you feel the crunch of his nose beneath your knuckles.

‘You’re stupid, Goemul,’ - you spit the name he’s created for himself - ‘for underestimating omegas. You think you’re destined to lord over us all, when all you are is a fucking scared little pup clinging to control and power you don’t deserve.’

Despite it all, he laughs, and blood glistens on his teeth. ‘You’re driving yourself crazy, little omega. I can smell the heat on you - you can’t kill me if your body needs my knot. All you need to do is to ask for it, sweet thing, and I’ll give it to you.’

Your grip on him falters, and he flips you, pinning you to the floor beneath him. Struggling against his grip, you thrash, your careful runes long forgotten, crimson rolling in like mist over the hills, and something wide and primal yawns open within you - your lips pull back, and you bare your teeth at him, pupils dilating as you lurch your head forward, snapping at his throat.

Goemul dodges just in time, holding you at arms length even as you claw at his face and neck. All you can hear is protect, protect, protect and the hidden voice beneath it saying kill him and end it, make him pay, do it for the pack, for your alphas.

His eyes widen. ‘You’re a maniac.’

You look up, over his shoulder, past him, your laugh chilling. ‘Yes.’

Impossibly, his eyes open further, bulging, and a low, strained gurgle sounds from deep in his throat. Trembling, one of his hands comes up to his chest, and he looks down, surprise and fear contorting his features as his finger gets sliced open on the tip of the blade protruding from between his collarbones.

Goemul’s eyes roll back, and his body slumps over you, deadweight. Dazed, you gaze up at Jeongin, admiring his handsome features, albeit splattered with gore from the fight and covered with a look of disgust as he places a foot on Goemul’s back and wrenches his sword out. It makes a wet, sucking sound as it goes, and your alpha dumps the sword on the floor in favour of heaving the cooling body off you and pulling you into his arms.

Mint and lavender, clean and fresh and soothing, rush at your senses as you take a deep breath in. You’re clinging onto Jeongin so hard that it must be hurting him, but he doesn’t seem to mind, holding you just as tightly to him, burying his face in your neck, his nose right against your scent gland as he just inhales.

Eventually, you jostle him, your senses coming back to you. You need to grab your staff; you can still fight, even though the ink of more than half of the writing on your hands and wrists has flaked off, the exhausted runes leaving light burns in their wake.

‘Where’s my staff?’ You mumble, wriggling in his grip. ‘I can still - ’

A hand smooths over your hair, someone coming up behind Jeongin so they can look you in the eyes from where you’re peeking over his shoulder, searching for the familiar oakwood. You blink. It’s Minho, his eyes soft, hair a mess.

‘It’s over, jagiya,’ he murmurs. ‘You don’t have to fight any more. We’re safe now.’

Eventually, his words echo in your head, beginning to register - over, safe now - and you go limp in Jeongin’s arms, burying your face in his shoulder and letting out a damp, shaky breath, hands fisting in his shirt. Your impending heat burns at your core, pulling you this way and that, but the nearness of your alphas grounds you, keeps you tethered to them.

You have just the presence to reach out to Minho, fingers brushing over his side as the healing runes written around the tops of your forearms flare to life, their glow different from the ones intended for attack - they’re the orangey pink of a rising dawn, like tiny suns pulsating beneath your skin. They begin to burn, uncomfortably hot as you heal Minho’s cracked ribs, then Felix’s nose and Han’s swollen black eyes, followed by all the injuries of your alphas that you can with the energy you have spare.

You’re panting by the end of it, drained. You’ve still neglected some of the less serious flesh wounds, but the well inside of you that was full to the brim with potency when you first entered the keep has run dry. If it weren’t for your heat fast approaching, you might have more energy, but you don’t, so that’s what you’re forced to settle with as you close your eyes and try to stop yourself from wriggling too much in Jeongin’s grip.

‘I’ll take her,’ someone says, and you’re being transferred into another’s arms.

Clean linen and cinnamon, crisp and familiar, crashes over you, and you nestle into Jisung’s arms, trying to absorb his body  heat as he kisses your face - the urge to nest is beginning to grow stronger, now that the adrenaline from the fight is leaving your system, and he’s so warm.

Somewhere far away, you can hear Felix’s low, comforting voice as he talks to Goemul’s omegas, and Chan’s too, instructing them and pointing them towards the east wing of the keep - you know at some point, they’ll want to talk to you, but for now you rest your chin on Jisung’s shoulder, closing your eyes and leaning your weight against him. Some of them remain in the hall, putting the bodies in neat piles up against the wall to be buried later or tending to anyone with injuries.

‘We’re going to find somewhere for you to nest now, baby,’ Jisung says into your hair. ‘Hyunjinnie is going to take you while we look.’

Another set of arms wraps around you, lean and wiry and smelling like roses and grapefruit but mainly roses, achingly close, strong enough to make you want to cry. He nuzzles at your neck, his long hair tickling your face and collarbones. Part of you is singing, happy only now that you’re surrounded by your alphas, happy that -

Hyunjin’s tongue flicks over your scent gland.

You know he doesn’t mean to set off anything - he does it a lot, just to calm you or show affection, but you’re teetering on the brink, hanging in the balance, and this is what tips you over. Just like that, your first wave of slick comes, and all of a sudden there’s an insistent ache between your legs. You stiffen in his arms.

‘Alpha,’ you whine, voice small.

Around you, you hear rather than see the boys pause. No doubt their instincts are kicking in, already perked up at the heady spike in your scent, telling them to look after their omega and knot and  breed and give you pups. There are the other omegas in the room, too, but even they freeze, affected by the possessive twang rolling off each of your alpha’s scents.

Hyunjin shifts just a little against you, and you feel his hardening cock heavy against your hip. A gasp escapes you, and it’s like the sound of it jolts your alphas back up to the present, because they’re moving again, hurrying, in a slight frenzy as they continue to help move the bodies and organise the rest of the omegas.

The fog of your heat is descending, and the rational part of you hates this timing - you need to look after your alphas, tend to their wounds that you couldn’t heal, but the animal part of you clamours over it, making you squirm uncomfortably, pushing Hyunjin away as you spin around, searching for a place to nest. You breath comes out in gasps: you can’t have your heat without a nest, but you don’t know if there are rooms free, if -

A firm hand sweeps up your back, landing on the nape of your neck and holding it, not quite scruffing you but breaking through your rising panic, making you listen. The scent of cocoa and gentle musk overcomes you, and when you look up at Chan, his dark, authority filled eyes pinning you down, another round of slick gushes out of you, and he smiles a little at your response to him.

‘Pack leader,’ you yip, ducking your head. ‘L - leader, alpha - ’

‘You’re going to be okay,’ Chan soothes. ‘Your alphas are here, okay? We’re going to get you to the bed Changbin and Jisung have found for you so you can nest. Just hang in there, omega.’

‘What about the other omegas?’ You ask, struggling to meet his eyes.

‘They’re in the other wing,’ he replies, then preempts your next words. ‘We’ll find new packs for them; we’re not going to replace you, sweetheart. Just let your alphas take care of you, yeah?’

Gently, he takes your hand in his and rubs his thumb along the scent gland at your wrist. A quiet, needy noise tears itself from your throat, and suddenly your legs are buckling - Chan catches you and scoops you up, one hand cradling the back of your head as he carries you through the passages leading from the hall and into the guest wing.

You’re lowered onto the softest mattress you’ve ever felt. It’s funny how all your time trapped in this keep, you never slept on anything but the cold stone floor - but now, your alphas are here, either still in the great hall, here with you or in what you understand is the bathroom next door, and Goemul’s dead, and you’re safe.

Chan kisses your crown and leaves you be for now as you hurriedly arrange the blankets. The bed is huge, wider than you are tall, yet you still crave your nest at home, items of clothing hoarded from your alphas tucked neatly amongst the bedding you’d padded it with - the sheets here are clean, but devoid of smell. It doesn’t compare.

You sit back on your heels. ‘The nest, it’s nowhere near good enough.’

Seungmin appears by your side, rubbing his thumb over the scent gland in your neck, his lips in your hair. ‘No, omega, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.’

The praise relaxes you, calms you, and you melt into his touch, leaning against him and pushing your face into his side, resting your cheek on his bare skin - like the others, he’d surrendered his shirt for your nest without complaint. His touch is feather light as he strokes your hair, and your eyelids droop a little.

Seungmin pecks your lips. ‘You need to sleep now, before your heat fully hits. We’ll all be here when you wake up.’

He watches you lay down, perching on the mattress so you have an alpha close to you while you fall asleep. Yawning, you curl up close to him. This will be the last proper rest you get until the end of your heat.

You close your eyes, the scent of warm embers washing over you.

You wake up sweating.

The ache between your legs has spread upwards and outwards, and you curl into a ball from the pain of it, eyes blurry as you blindly reach your hands out, searching for an alpha. You can hear yourself babbling, begging for a knot, begging to be filled up, because they’re all right there, curled up on the mattress, surrounding you, but they’re all asleep, all eight of them leaving you here in heat on your own, without a knot, and you can’t think beyond the need; you’re going to implode if someone doesn’t -

Sure hands unfurl you, flipping you so you’re spread flat on the mattress. The weight of one of your alphas traps you in place, and you moan, back arching when a hot tongue slides along the column of your throat, halting at your scent gland and sucking the sensitive skin there.

Sweet vanilla rolls over your senses. His teeth bite and suck at your collarbone, and you groan, head all jumbled with need, your body still locked up from the cramps as you fumble with his boxers, urgency rendering you clumsy.

Mercifully, one of your alphas has stripped you down to your underwear while you were sleeping, and you find you don’t even have the time to take them off, instead hooking your leg around Minho’s hip and grinding your throbbing core down on his hardening cock. Lightning pulses through your cunt at the way his lids half close in pleasure, filling you with the need to please your alpha, to be of use to him.

He tears your underwear off with a flick of his wrist. Your pussy is only getting wetter.

Dipping his head, Minho claims your lips, and the brush of his tongue against yours makes your head spin faster than it already is, your hands coming up to tangle with his hair as his hips roll to meet yours.

‘F - fuck,’ you choke out, jolting when Minho sinks two fingers inside you and scissors them.

His lips travel lower to trace down your sternum. ‘Gotta stretch you out for the boys, jagiya.’

You find yourself squirming a little; his fingers are curling, pumping in and out of you at exactly the pace you normally like, but your body is working itself up to the wild throes at the peak of your heat and you need more, so much more. You tell him so, and he chuckles, kissing you again like it’s going to distract you from the way he’s lining himself up at the entrance of your cunt.

Barely the tip of him is in before you’re clenching hard, painfully hard, scrabbling at the bedsheets and crying his name so loud it’s a wonder the boys don’t stir. He licks and sucks at your scent gland, relaxing you until your muscles ease up and he can move - despite all your slick, you still feel the burn of his cock. He’s stretching you out, just like he said he would.

Agonisingly, he pulls out, just to slam back in again, balls deep, punching the air out of your lungs. Minho fucks you roughly, like you need at the start of your heat, his cock reaching so deep inside you you think he might be in your guts - he’s not fast, just so intense that tears are forming on your lash line and you’re panting, fighting for breath.

Then, he’s forcing your legs up onto his shoulders, and the new angle makes you wail, because he’s destroying your cunt in a way that has your thighs shaking and your chest heaving, pleas for more spilling out of you uncontrollably.

Minho has a way of wringing pleasure from you, fucking you so good that you can’t do anything but repeat his name over and over; you feel yourself suspended on the edge, fire licking up your sides, so close, so close, so close -

Mid-thrust, he pauses.

‘Alpha,’ you scream, voice breaking pitifully. ‘Alpha, please - ’

There’s something half sadistic in his eyes when he looks down at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, teasing as he enjoys the way you struggle, bucking against him desperately, begging like it’s the only thing you know how to do.

‘Sungie’s woken up from all your noise, omega,’ Minho remarks impassively. ‘Maybe you should give him a hand.’

No sooner has he finished speaking than an achingly hard cock makes its way into your palm, and you cast your teary eyes upward, only half there as you witness Jisung’s head fall back in pleasure when you begin to jerk him, because thank all that is good, Minho’s moving again, tearing you apart and putting you back together with those powerful thrusts of his hips.

He’s hitting that spot inside you, and each time he does, paralysing bolts of pleasure shoot down your spine. Your orgasm crushes you with its magnitude, whiting out your vision, and through it, you blindly beg for his knot, beg him to fill you, beg him to stuff you with load after load.

‘That’s right, omega,’ he grits out. ‘Let it all out for me.’

Tears finally spill over, trickling down your face, the pleasure leaving you rapt, brows drawn together and mouth hanging open, and still he fucks into you; you can feel the slight burn as his knot begins to engorge, and you know he’s so close, so almost filling you up.

Your thoughts grow indistinct the moment Minho spills hot inside you, his knot popping into place and locking you together. Jisung comes not a moment later, letting go with a short cry all over your chest, and if you were not full and happy with Minho’s knot, you’d be fretting about the waste. Instead, you close your eyes and murmur a pleased ‘alpha’, fingers brushing lightly over a bandage on Minho’s arm as the two of them begin to lick the come off you.

You must drift off, because when you resurface, Jisung, Minho and his knot are gone, most likely to the bathroom, and instead you can feel Seungmin’s long fingers working lazily between your legs, just enough to take the edge off the bite of your cramps. He’s got your back propped up against his chest, and you wiggle, bucking your hips up into his touch, inhaling the smell of warm embers.

‘What do you think you’re doing, omega?’

You freeze at the dominance in his tone. Remaining silent, you gaze up at him, wide eyed and head full of cotton as he pins you beneath him, the ravenous look on his face making your neck and cheeks flush. You can feel his cock against your thigh, but he doesn’t allow you to move, doesn’t move himself, just stares down at you, waiting.

Slowly, you tilt your head back, exposing the vulnerable expanse of your throat - a display of utter submission. A low whine escapes you when his breath caresses your skin, his nose brushing against your jugular as he inhales your scent.

‘Good omega,’ Seungmin murmurs. ‘Our omega.’

‘Yours,’ you echo, and this time, he lets you buck against him.

Another hot rush of slick leaves you at the friction of his clothed cock against you, and you gasp his name, rubbing your cheek all over his neck and chest, trying to cover him in your scent. He allows it, letting you press yourself against him, desperation soaking your scent, your hands roaming his body urgently, trying to tell him that you need his knot because all your mouth can seem to do right now is say ‘alpha’, again and again and again.

In one smooth sweep, Seungmin gathers your wrists above your head and pins them there. A sound leaves you, so eager and pathetic that your cheeks flush and you struggle half heartedly against him, but he’s yanking off his boxers and running his fingers through your folds to transfer your arousal and make sure his dick will be wet enough. If you stay still, you think you might die.

Yet another round of slick is pouring from you. He chuckles, seeing your cunt clench as he spits in his hand and wraps his fingers around his cock - you know he’s doing it to taunt you. Whoever goes first always makes sure you’re prepped.

‘Ready for my knot, omega?’ Seungmin coos. ‘Think you can take it?’

‘Yes,’ you whine. ‘Yes, alpha, yes, give it to me, I can, I can - ’

Your mouth snaps shut when he thrusts into you, your eyes widening and back arching as thrill after thrill races up your spine, making your cunt bear down on him, squeezing him tight and  greedily sucking him in further. The moment he starts moving, you know he’s not going to go easy on you.

Seungmin is going to make you earn it.

He releases your hands, letting you grab onto him as he fucks into you, fast, unrelenting. Almost sly, his fingers drag down your stomach so he can rub them over your clit in tight circles - your pussy flutters in response, clamping down on him. A muttered curse escapes him; you can feel every muscle of his back taut under your grip, the vein in his neck beginning to strain, yet all he does is go harder.

Something within you buckles. Not a second later, you come, clenching around his cock, squeezing him so tight he’s forced to grind into you further, your cunt refusing to let him pull out. You expect him to ease up, give you a moment to rest but he continues the moment he can, unforgiving.

Overstimulation sears at you, cutting through the cloudiness fogging your brain, and you yawp, scrabbling at Seungmin’s back, thighs jumping with every drag of his cock against your walls as you rake your nails against his skin in a way that must be hurting his battered, not quite healed body, but he doesn’t shake you off, doesn’t seem to mind.

‘Stop thrashing if you want your alpha’s knot,’ he snarls.

‘W - want it,’ you babble, trying to stay still for him. ‘Need it so bad, alpha.’

‘Then take it.’

He punctuates his words with deep rolls of his hips, and this time you can’t not move, because the pads of his fingers are back on your clit, torturous, creating friction so impossibly blissful that it hurts, and he’s hammering his dick into you, so quick that you can’t form words any more, and then - and then -

Once again, you come, and he slams his knot inside you.

Your back bows, your fingers twisting into the sheets until someone grabs your hand and squeezes it as tightly you are squeezing theirs. It’s not Seungmin’s, you realise - his are too busy propping him up, holding him above you. Turning your head to the side, you smile: it’s Minho, half asleep with his eyes almost closed and a silly little grin on his face.

Huffing, his breath ruffling your hair, Seungmin pokes at your face, bringing your attention back to him. You tip your head up and fit your lips to his, a warm, happy buzz engulfing you now that you’re full, and he lowers himself on top of you so you can lie there together, joined by his knot nestled inside your sated cunt as sleep tugs you both under.

You wake up to cacao and musk, lips closed over your scent gland, gently sucking. Whatever Seungmin’s knot and the orgasms he plucked from you did to appease your heat have worn off, and fast, because you’re sweating all over, hips moving against the firmness below you and you don’t know where you are, just that there are hands on your body and a mouth on your neck keeping back the flames.

‘Leader,’ you mewl, half crazy on his scent. ‘Alpha, need your knot,’

‘I’ve got you,’ Chan croons. ‘Alpha’s got you.’

It begins to dawn on you that you’re straddling his lap, grinding down frantically on his thigh, his hands cool where they coast over your burning skin, smoothing circles over your back. Taking your chin in his fingers, he tilts your face up until you’re looking at him. The moment you meet his eyes, you still, hips hovering over his.

‘You going to behave for me, omega?’

You nod so hard it hurts your neck. ‘Yes, alpha, so good, so good for you. Promise.’

‘Sweet girl,’ he coos. ‘My omega.’

Leaving trails of goosebumps behind, Chan’s hands slide down your torso, down to caress the curves of your hips, down to right where you need him. There’s a moment where he just holds your cunt, fingers pressing between your folds until you break and rock against the heel of his palm, chasing away the building pressure between your legs in favour of momentary relief, wobbly voiced pleas rushing from you as your slick soaks him to the wrist.

Nosing at your throat, he laves his tongue over your scent gland, one hand coming round to grip your ass as he positions you closer to him. When he looks up at you, you see the same haze that blankets your mind clouding his eyes - you must be nearing the peak of your heat for your scent to affect him so. He’s barely holding himself back.

‘Okay?’ He verifies. ‘Can take it?’

‘Y - yes, yes,’ you reply, grinding your hips down despite his steady grip on you, searching for his cock.

That’s all it takes for him to lurch upwards, sheathing himself in your heat like it was made for him. The remainder of the sentence on your tongue dissolves into a keening moan, your lips falling open, eyes unfocused and rolled back; he gives you barely a second to adjust to his thickness before he’s pounding into you, holding you in place above him with his nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

You grab at his broad shoulders, needing something to anchor you with the way he’s jerking your whole body up and down with every punishing thrust. Chan’s fucking up into you like he wants you to forget your own name, like he wants you to forget everything but the surge of his cock through your spasming walls; he’s got you dumb, mouth agape, the sounds that leave you wordless but pleading.

It’s as if your senses have narrowed to the giddying scent of your alpha and the promise of his knot in the snap of his hips against yours - you can’t think of anything else.

Dimly, you realise he’s speaking between the sloppy kisses he adorns your neck and chest with, groaning and mumbling against your skin as his teeth nip at your scent gland, stimulating you in a way that brings century old instincts to the surface - it has you shuddering, nails buried into the meat of his biceps as you twist your head back to bare your throat to your alpha.

‘Good omega,’ he’s gasping, words slurred, reaching so deep inside you all you can do is take it. ‘Made for me, omega - fuck, fuck, squeezing me so well - gonna give you my knot, sweetheart, give you my pups, gotta breed you, gonna - ’

Chan moans so loud it’s almost a howl, slamming you down on his cock to the hilt one last time, fingers furiously working your clit. The hot spill of his seed yanks you unceremoniously over the edge, and you feel your pussy constrict around his knot - he hisses at the feel of it, his chest, mottled with bruises, heaving as he comes down from the high, eyes beginning to focus on you.

Fuck, he looks good, all sweaty and panting and still a bit dazed, his curls ruffled and a dumb little blissed out smile plastered on his face. Tugging you close, he lets his forehead fall against your collarbones, pushing his face between your tits - you giggle as he sighs happily into their plushness, tucking your arms around him and holding him close, sated and so incredibly, wonderfully full.

‘So good for me, sweetheart,’ he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin.

You preen at his words, and his hands move up from where they were splayed out on your back to stroke your hair, smoothing it down and untangling some of the knots with his fingers. Curling up as much as you can in this position, you lean your head on Chan’s shoulder, basking in the reassuring presence of your alpha.

Something warm presses against your leg, and you look down to see Jeongin, balled up facing Seungmin with his back pushed up against the length of your thigh, his angular face softened in sleep. Grinning, you brush a hand over his cheek, and he stirs, humming drowsily before settling again.

A hand rubs at the small of your back, and you turn to see that Felix has woken up. Despite the fact that his blonde hair is mussed and he’s squinting against the light of the torches in the sconces on the walls, he’s smiling sweetly at you, gaze bright and soft.

‘Felix, please could you grab that for me?’ Chan’s gesturing to a small platter on the bedside table.

Clambering over a slumbering Minho and Jisung and almost tripping up on Changbin’s outstretched leg, he retrieves it and hands it to Chan, who supports you with a hand on your waist so you can sit back and tuck into the slices of bread and cheese on the plate. You hadn’t realised how hungry you were until now - your stomach rumbles at just the smell of the food.

Through a mouthful, you beam. ‘Thanks, Lix.’

He leans over Changbin to kiss you sweetly, filling your nose with the scent of violets and sunshine. ‘Once Chan’s knot goes down I’ll take you to the bath, okay?’

‘Yes, please,’ you reply. ‘I’m all sticky.’

‘My bad,’ Chan chuckles, rubbing his hands up and down your sides and making your brain all fuzzy.

By the time you’ve finished the food, Chan’s knot has come down enough to slip out of you - both of you groan when he pulls out, his come rolling down your thighs. You glance over at Felix and see him watching, and when you look down you can see he’s semi hard and sending you a sheepish grin.

A great yawn splits your face in half, and you stretch your cramped legs as you shuffle awkwardly off the bed, pausing to give Chan a kiss before he scoots down and tugs the blanket over him, nuzzling close to Jeongin. Lifting you up, Felix carries you to the bathroom - Hyunjin looks up from where he’s perched on a rickety wooden stool in the corner, holding something delicately in his hands and smirking.

‘That cavewoman omega in you really likes it when Chan fucks you like that, huh?’

You roll your eyes. ‘Go on and pretend you weren’t hard.’

‘Why are you holed up in here, anyway?’ Felix asks as he helps you into the wooden tub.

‘Changbin was rolling around in his sleep,’ he shrugs. ‘Didn’t want to stab him.’

Proudly, Hyunjin holds up the piece of wood he’s been whittling - it’s a lovely piece of limewood, light and creamy in colour, and it must be a maquette for a sword hilt he’s planning on making, because it’s carved with whorls and flowing arches, as if the wood itself is malleable clay in his skilled hands.

‘I like it,’ Felix says as he helps soap your back. ‘It’s pretty.’

Hyunjin gives him a look. ‘Of course.’

You chuckle. ‘Yeah, Felix, when did he ever make something that wasn’t pretty?’

‘Hey, what about that time when - ’

‘No, it was pretty, you just - ’

Closing your eyes, you listen to the two of them bicker playfully, relishing the warmth of the water and the way it eases your sore muscles - you want to enjoy the momentary lucidity. You’re still somewhere in the highest intensity of your heat, and soon your body is going to want a knot again, even after having Chan’s so recently.

Right on queue, as if just thinking about it sets it off, your scent spikes, and you feel a wave of slick spill from you - it goes straight into the water, but both Hyunjin and Felix fall silent anyway, sensing your need from a mile away.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Hyunjin drags his stool closer to the tub.

Without further delay, Felix shucks off his boxers and climbs in. The water swills but doesn’t spill over, and he takes your chin and kisses you softly, careful not to lean too much of his weight on you; the moment he pulls back, Hyunjin is there, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth, and you moan around him when you feel the nudge of Felix’s cock head at your entrance.

All three of you groan when he slides in, and you turn your head to the side, unsurprised to see Hyunjin’s slender fingers curling around his cock, his carving abandoned to the side - your eyes glide upwards, locking on his as you suck on his thumb, still resting against your lips, and he visibly picks up his pace, face twisting in pleasure.

Hiding his face into your damp neck, Felix groans, low and deep, thrusting his hips forward until they kiss yours, so close that his pubic bone grinds over your clit. He fucks into you slowly and tenderly, and as he does, Hyunjin hooks his thumb under your chin and crams three of his fingers into your mouth up to the knuckle, grunting when your tongue swirls over them.

You’re still sensitive from Chan, maybe even from the two orgasms Seungmin coaxed from you, and the way Felix’s cock drags through you is driving you insane - almost as much as the praise they’re both showering upon you and the pump of Hyunjin’s fingers in and out of your mouth. Water is sloshing over the sides of the tub with each movement, and it’s as if you’re floating aimlessly, muscles lax and surrounded all over by this warmth.

Hyunjin comes first.

It’s Felix that sets him off: kissing you over the fingers buried in your mouth, his tongue sliding over them before he licks at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, and suddenly Hyunjin’s coming with a gasp, wrenching Felix off your front by his shoulder so he can spill over the part of your chest that’s above the water.

That’s what makes you come.

The sight of Hyunjin bent double over you and Felix, jerking himself until he’s spent and then some to overstimulate himself, the hand that had been in your mouth gripping the side of the tub so hard his knuckles run white - it’s too much. Your pussy convulses around Felix, and only then do you find your words, gasping that you need a knot, begging for his come.

It’s all too easy for him to give you what you want - more water splashes out of the tub and straight onto the bathroom floor as he seats his knot inside you, plugging his seed in so not a drop is wasted. He flops over you, panting.

‘I didn’t expect it to come back so fast,’ you remark as the three of you catch your breath.

‘So much for the bath,’ Felix laughs. ‘Maybe we should draw another one.’

The next time you open your eyes, it hits you full force. The ache in your core is so intense that all you can do is flail, thrashing and writhing and crying, all tangled up in the blankets which are soaked with your sweat and twisted around your legs, all tangled up in the consuming flames of your heat. There are warm bodies all around you; you can hear their breathing, but none of them are responding, and fuck it hurts -

This can’t be happening again -

You squeak in alarm as someone manhandles you onto your front so quickly that your head spins, holding your arms down so you can barely move - you’re grinding desperately down on the mattress, and you can feel the sheets beneath you grow wet with your slick.

‘Stay still, omega,’ a voice growls. ‘You’re going to push someone off the bed if you don’t.’

‘Alpha?’ You whimper, rubbing your thighs together. ‘It’s not enough, please - ’

‘Binnie’s here,’ he soothes, tone gentler now. ‘Binnie’s going to take care of you, okay? Hands and knees for me, omega.’

Tears of relief trickle down your face and seep into the cloth beneath you - Jeongin’s shirt. You scramble to obey your alpha’s command, only halting when Changbin pulls you in for a quick kiss that leaves you dizzy, as if he sucked the air from your lungs and replaced it with pure, unadulterated need. Squeezing your ass, he fucking bullies you into position, manoeuvring you until you’re face down, ass up.

You fist the sheets in your hands, trying to stay still but he’s taking his damn time. Arching your back, you push back on him, feverish, reduced to the urges of your idiot omega brain that you can’t ignore for the life of you. Your thighs are trembling as he lines himself up, your breath coming out in harsh pants.

With a harsh stab of his hips, he ploughs into you.

You wait for him to move, wait for him to fucking destroy you, but he doesn’t; he just holds himself there, infuriating, playing with you, and you’re wailing and trying to push back onto him more but he’s got you in his iron grip and then he’s cracking a hand down on your ass and you howl and finally -

Finally he’s moving.

Changbin is railing into you, unrelenting. You’re clenching so hard around him, desperate for his knot that your vision keeps blanking out, your voice breaking as you call his name, and surely it’s waking up the boys, but you don’t really care because you need him, need -

‘Need it, alpha,’ you sob, ‘Need it.’

‘I know, omega,’ he grits out. ‘Let your alpha take care of you.’

And then he gives you all you ask. He gives it to you, alright. He gives it to you so that the slick is running out of you and down your twitching thighs, he gives it to you so you’re hoarse from screaming his name - he gives it to you until you feel all limp and boneless beneath him, and still he draws you out, drilling into you like he was born to do it.

Just when you think he might be satisfied, Changbin hooks a hand under your arm and pulls you upright, pinning you against his chest and hitting a new, cataclysmic angle inside you; roughly, he bites down on the spot where you shoulder and neck meet, and his hands come up to cup your tits, pinching your nipples and sending jolts of pleasure through you. He’s fucking up into you endlessly and you can’t even remember if you came already because he’s got you drowning in ecstasy, losing yourself in it.

And then his fingers are on your clit.

You can feel his knot, pressing against your core, so close, so close.

Inside your stomach, something pulls up tight, and you come so hard everything goes black.

You come to about half a minute later, cradled against Changbin’s chest, his knot safely within your cunt, satisfying you, and he’s hugging you to him, kissing every inch of your sweat coated skin that he can reach. He shifts against you when he senses you waking, nuzzling against your scent gland as he kisses a hickey on your neck - most likely from Minho.

‘Are you okay?’ Changbin asks. ‘Did I go too hard?’

‘No,’ you reply drowsily. ‘Was good. So good.’

Your hand meets his, and you smile a little as you twine your fingers together. The scent of roses and grapefruit fills your nose, and you close your eyes at the feel of Hyunjin nestling closer to you, sandwiching you between him and Changbin, your breathing slowing as you drift off.

You’re woken by a puff of air against your clit. Hyunjin chuckles when the muscles in your thigh jitter at the feel of it, looking up at you from where he sprawls between your legs, grinning like he wants to devour you. Whatever you’re lying on rocks to the side, and you bleat in alarm and narrowly catch yourself, glancing over your shoulder to find that your head was  resting on Jeongin’s chest, who is now smirking at you, eyes glittering mischievously.

The feeling of two alphas looking like they might eat you does something to your cunt that has Hyunjin transfixed. He licks his lips and you get the distinct sense that he might accidentally pop a knot too soon if he isn’t careful.

‘You two look like you’re plotting something,’ you mumble, trying to ignore the attention your pussy is demanding.

‘Yeah,’ Jeongin confirms casually. ‘Hyunjin’s going to go down on you and I’m going to fuck your mouth.’

‘Oh,’ you say, and this time you can’t ignore the way you clench around nothing.

Hyunjin groans, and you feel the mattress dip a little as he grinds into it. He buries a finger into your fluttering heat, cursing under his breath, and your eyes widen as Jeongin props your head up with a pillow and straddles your chest, his flushed cock nudging your lips. Your tongue darts out, flicking against his head, and he adjusts himself so he’s kneeling over you.

Opening your mouth, you take him as far as you can, and almost like he’s rewarding you for it, Hyunjin’s lips close around your clit. Surprised, you yelp around Jeongin’s length, hips bucking into Hyunjin’s face of their own accord; in response, another finger is eased into your core and you suck in a sharp breath of air.

That’s the moment Jeongin chooses to thrust shallowly into your mouth. You gag and get embarrassingly close to coming - Hyunjin lifts his head, feeling your weeping pussy seize his fingers.

‘She liked that,’ he remarks.

You don’t even get to reply because there’s an alpha cock fucking itself down your throat, surrounding you with the scent of mint and lavender. You’re not sure when you moved your hands but now they’re curled under the backs of his thighs, your nails sinking into his skin as he uses your mouth, and he’s got your hair fisted in his fingers for better leverage - even through the haze of your heat you can see his knuckles are still swollen and cut up from the fight.

He must have been pretty wound up because you can feel him tensing under your palms, curses flowing from his lips as he wrenches himself out of your mouth and basically shoves Hyunjin out of the way. There’s a moment where you’re painfully empty, bereft of Hyunjin’s nimble fingers, and then Jeongin slams his cock inside you, rutting into you once, twice, before he comes, his knot swelling within you and filling you up.

‘So good for us, omega,’ Hyunjin coos, appearing at your side.

Cupping your chin, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on him as he licks into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours. Jeongin pushes him to the side, grumbling and barging him with his shoulder so he can press his lips to your scent gland, sucking a love bite just below it, his teeth grazing over your skin. You giggle at the look on Hyunjin’s face, cute and pouty despite the fact that you can feel his cock, stiff and leaking precum all over your thigh.

While you wait for Jeongin’s knot to go down, the two of them take turns kissing you, Hyunjin sometimes sneaking kisses to Jeongin too. It’s like you’re in heaven: stuffed full and content, with two alphas paying their utmost attention to you.

Finally, Jeongin eases out, and you feel the hot spill of his come - and maybe some of Changbin’s too - ooze from your stretched out pussy. He scoops up as much of it as he can and pushes it right back in, licking his fingers after: your body is wracked by a shiver at the sight, cunt aching to be filled again.

‘Need another load?’ Hyunjin teases, seeing the hungry look in your eyes.

‘Get on with it already, alpha,’ you snark back.

Eagerly, Hyunjin slots himself between your legs, gliding his cock head through your folds a few times before he plunges in. It shuts you up, fast. Throwing his head back, he groans, just a little louder than the wet, sucking sounds your pussy makes as he begins to move; there’s come slopping out of you with each thrust, smearing over the tops of your thighs and his, and he fucks it right back into you until you’re keening, bucking into him.

‘Shit,’ he moans. ‘Keep on fucking doing that, sweet omega.’

Breathless, you obey, rolling your hips to meet his so fervently that your muscles begin to burn, but it’s the good kind, the type of sensation that comes before your legs lock up, trembling uncontrollably as pleasure hits you so hard you go limp.

Pinching and rubbing at your clit in a way that is glorious, Hyunjin dips his head, giving you another kiss that tastes like you, and suddenly, at the touch of his lips to yours, you’re coming, shaking so hard that you’re shaking him. He groans your name, hands tangling in your hair to hold your face to his, and he travels a little lower to mouth at the hollow of your throat.

‘Taking me so well,’ he rasps. ‘Fitting around me just right, omega.’

A little jolt of lightning shoots through you as he lurches a little further into your cunt, coming, and there’s already so much seed inside you that a little bit seeps out around his knot, fat drops slipping down your skin. Sighing contentedly, you stretch your arms above your head as Hyunjin rests his head on your chest. You can feel the dull pain of your heat receding, giving way to a hint of lucidity, and now that the adrenaline is leaving your system, you start to feel aches flaring up all over your body.

Lifting your head, you keep a hand on the back of Hyunjin’s head so he doesn’t slide off you as you search for the familiar scent of clean linen and cinnamon, craning your neck as you twist to check he’s not among the boys dozing on the mattress around you. Just before you call out his name, the door to the room opens, and he walks in, cheeks full with some food he must have raided from the keep’s storeroom.

Jisung sees your face and immediately strides over. ‘Feeling okay, omega?’

You nod. ‘I think it’s almost passed.’

A stab of guilt punches through you. Jisung’s waited his turn, and there’s a chance that if you fall asleep now, you’ll wake up and find your heat has broken. He must smell the worry on your scent, because he leans forward and tucks some of your tangled hair behind your ear.

‘It’s okay, jagi,’ he reassures. ‘This is about you. Rest now.’

You’re already dreaming by the time he finishes his sentence.

‘Are you sure?’ Jisung clarifies again, even though you’re certain he can still smell the lingering honey of your heat on your scent.

‘Yes, alpha,’ you huff, unable to hide the petulance in your voice.

He raises an eyebrow.

‘Please,’ you whine. ‘Need your knot, Ji, please, alpha.’

‘Okay, but you tell me if you’re too sensitive, alright?’

You nod, already bucking your hips which succeeds to do nothing but drag his cock head through your folds. You’d woken up surrounded by Jisung’s crisp linen and cinnamon scent, the low burning need for a knot clawing at your insides, subdued at least by the seven other knots you’ve taken but still insistent enough that you needed Jisung inside you.

A wretched cry leaves you as he seats his cock inside you - he pauses, throwing his head back, biting his lips to stifle a moan - and you feel him twitch from within your squeezing walls. You’re not surprised; he’s been stuck in a keep with his omega’s scent rubbed all over him, the mattress and his pack mates, driving him crazy.

‘Fucking hell, omega,’ he mumbles, nuzzling at your face before he kisses you. ‘Don’t know how long I’m gonna last.’

Jisung begins to move, slowly but deep, a little smile pulling at his lips as he looks you right in the eyes, lacing his fingers with yours where they rest on the pillows beneath your head. He’s gentle, aware that you’re sore, pressing feather light kisses to the hickeys decorating your skin - some of which you don’t even remember exactly who gave to you, your memories clouded by your heat - and slowing his pace if your face screws up or your fingers tighten too hard on his.

Wrapping your legs around his trimmed waist, you pull him closer, crossing your ankles at the small of his back. His hand trails down and begins to rub steadily at your clit, and you feel the stirrings of heaven beginning to rouse within you: your toes curl, and a drawn out whine escapes from your throat, urging him onwards.

Jisung’s fingers speed up on your clit. ‘Come for me, omega.’

You keen as shockwaves run through you, leaving you spent, out of breath, pussy raw. Fractionally, Jisung slows the pace he’s thrusting into you, whispering sweet nothings onto your lips like prayers - your fingers sweep through his soft hair, the rest of your body limp against the mattress as you gaze up at him, eyes glazed.

‘Alpha,’ you whimper - it’s all you have the energy for.

‘Shit, omega - ’

Jisung cums with a gasp, knot locking into place as he trembles above you, trying to control the way he rocks his hips , grinding himself impossibly deeper into you. A tear slips down your cheek and he licks it off, the tender look in his eyes leaving you all melty in his arms.

Your pussy flutters around him, constricting around his knot as he carefully rolls the two of you over for you to lie on his chest, legs curled up either side of him so you can soak up the feel of his skin against yours. His arms wrap around you, and another hand, calloused from hours working in the smithy, brushes over your back before lips press against your shoulder blade.

‘How’s she doing?’ Chan whispers.

‘Good,’ you hum, answering for Jisung and cracking your eyes open a millimetre. ‘Really good. Really tired, too.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m not surprised, sweetheart.’

Minho speaks up, saying something that makes Jisung’s wide chest vibrate beneath your ear with a quiet laugh, but you don’t really hear it at all - your brain feels like it’s made out of cotton, and your limbs feel light and airy, Jisung’s skin so soft it’s as if you’re floating on a cloud.

‘Love you, alpha,’ you murmur.

You don’t clarify, and they don’t ask, but they know you mean each and every one of them.

When you next rouse yourself, you’re fully lucid, and Changbin’s shouting at someone from inside the bathroom. Groaning, you rub your eyes, and a low, tired throb emanates from between your legs - solid proof that your alphas took care of you through your heat, like they always do. You remember it: most of it vividly, some of it in flashes.

Flopping your arms out, you’re met with unpleasantly cold sheets. A frown furrows your brow and you lift your head - now that you’re shaking off the last dregs of your heat and the long sleep that has left a small bit of drool on the pillow beneath your head, you can faintly hear your pack’s voices. From what it sounds, most of them are in the corridor or the great hall, and you can just about pick up other voices too: the omegas you rescued.

You can also hear Changbin, clear as day, muttering grumpily to himself. Snickering, you listen closer, catching something about Seungmin, that little shit and damn towel. You open your mouth, ready to call out to him -

‘Seungmin!’ He yells, so loud you jump. ‘I know you can hear me! Where’s my towel?’

With a groan, you heave yourself upright and pull on the first shirt available: immediately, Jisung’s scent wraps tight around you. Choking on a laugh that you fail to stifle, you shuffle to the edge of the bed and climb off, taking pity on Changbin, while - rolling his eyes so hard it looks like there’s someone behind them pulling them with strings - Seungmin bursts through the bedroom door.

Just in time to see your legs buckle.

He darts across the room and manages to break your fall as you crumple to the floor, muscles protesting. Unfortunately, you manage to take him down with you and he laughs, loud enough for Changbin to hear it and think he’s the one getting made fun of, but with a mischievous spark dancing in his eyes that you know is aimed at you.

‘You’re acting as if you didn’t contribute to this,’ you retort, attempting to pull yourself up.

There’s a steady burning in your thighs, and once you’re upright, you’re wobbling like a newborn calf. Seungmin snorts, knocking you backwards onto the bed and kissing you, fending off your hands as you attempt to punch him in the ribs. Eventually, he lets up, mostly because Changbin has started screeching threats from inside the bathroom that can be heard over your giggled protests.

He sorts out his mussed hair. ‘I don’t regret contributing whatsoever. In fact, I enjoyed it.’

‘You’re always so smug after knotting me, huh?’ You send him a rude gesture.

‘As if you didn’t - ’

‘Seungmin, I swear - ’

Both of you giggle, and Changbin splutters, hearing your laughter. Still chuckling, Seungmin scoops you up in his arms and retrieves a towel that’s been stowed behind one of the pillows, taking his time to open the bathroom door and hand it back to him. Seeing Changbin, his damp hair hanging over his eyes as he grumbles at the two of you, unable to fulfil his threats with Seungmin using you as a human shield, sets the two of you off again.

The sound of your laughter attracts your other alphas. They file into the room, and Chan smiles fondly as he sees you Seungmin’s arms. Jeongin walks over and nuzzles his face into your hair, kissing your earlobe and pausing there.

‘Legs out of commission after being fucked too good, huh?’

‘Jeongin,’ you hiss, slapping his arm. Seungmin has the audacity to high five him.

Chan attempts to hide a laugh. ‘I’m going to ignore that.’

‘Well, you better not ignore Seungmin stealing and hiding my towel,’ Changbin mutters.

Seungmin laughs again, and you get passed to Jeongin while he wards off Changbin, who is still clad in just a towel. Warmth fills you - it’s good to have your boys happy and playful after seeing them taken and hurt by Goemul. You’re whole again now that you’ve got them back.

Eventually, the two of them calm down, and Chan smiles at you in a way that makes your heart swell and overflow in your chest.

‘Ready to go home, omega?’

taglist: @0bticeo @hyunjinsjeans @sleepyleeji @milkslovehotel

fyi: goemul = monster in korean

[clawblr]

MÁS INFO QUE NADIE ME PIDIÓ!! 👍✨️

SINK Y DOLLY [AU'S]

En este fanart 👇 los tres Sink's tienen 15/16 años. Les daré un poco de información de cada AU según mi idea.

LOVEDTALE: Sink es amigo de Dolly (de eso ya hable).

LOVEDFELL: Sink tiene un crush con Dolly.

¿Por qué?, bueno, un día los hermanos estaban "jugando" juntos, pero durante el juego FranFell lastimo (un poco) y asusto al pequeño SinkFell. Él aterrado huye al bosque aún sabiendo que en ese lugar vive un "demonio echo de tela". Se pierde en el bosque y en un momento de desesperación comienza a llorar y es encontrado por DollyFell. Ella se acerca a él para ayudarlo, pensando que ya la conoce, pero él no tiene ni idea de quien es y recuerda al "demonio de tela" del que le hablo su hermano Franfell, entonces llora más, pero DollyFell le asegura que no va a lastimarlo, y cuando esté se calma lo ayuda a salir del bosque. Desde ese día SinkFell le comienza a tener cariño a DollyFell y con el tiempo se va enamorando de ella.

Lo que NO le agarda NADA a FranFell. Y SinkFell hará lo posible para proteger la.

LOVEDSWAP: Sink se quiere casar con Dolly xD.

¿Por qué?, ¿porqué no?. Naa, ya enserio, para mi aquí en LOVEDSWAP DollySwap nunca fue odiada ni nada parecido, de hecho, ella trabaja para los hermanos Papytton y Mettpy, y graciasa ellos FranSwap conoce a la muñeca. Aquí DollySwap y FranSwap se conocen asta que ambos tienen 15 años de edad, ninguno de los dos siente algo por el otro, solo son buenos amigos. Rato después FranSwap presenta a DollySwap con sus hermanos, y para sorpresa de todos, para SinkSwap, DollySwap es muy bella, fue algo asi como "amor a primera vista", así que no pierde tiempo y, le pide su mano aún siendo él un niño de 5 años. DollySwap claro que no acepta, pero tampoco le dice que no porque no quiere lastimar los sentimientos del pobre niño, solo le dice: "dejame pensarlo", pero lo malo para la muñeca, es que para él eso fue un si, así que para él ya es su prometida xd.

Las tres Dolly's piensan que sus Sink's son un amor con ellas, para DollyTale, su Sink es su nuevo mejor amigo, apesar del pasado este le dio una oportunidad para ser su amigo.

Para DollyFell, su Sink es como su familia, ella hace todo lo posible por cuidar de él y ayudarlo, aunque eso signifique que podría salir rota después.

Para DollySwap, su Sink es un pequeño amigo, se incomoda cada vez que este la llama "mi prometida", pero lo deja pasar porque sabe que con él tiempo el olvidara esa idea.

UNA FLOR 🌼:

AU'S DE: @alanitaperez

Una vez más, me disculpo con AlanitaPerez por si te disgusta esto, y también con uno que otro fan por mis ideas extrañas, pero bueno, cada quien 🤷.

Y si, todo esto ya lo habia echo desde hace tiempo, no son ideas recientes. Como dije, sólo subiré lo que e hecho, ya después, solo subiré dibujitos que haga de Dolly, nada más oh de Sink SEPARADOS, nada más.

Chao ✨️

[hismourningflower]

「 sugar cookies | fanfiction 」 wriothesley x gn!reader | fluff, modern!au | valentines fanfiction. ↳ additional tags. established relationship, potentially ooc wrio, a tiny bit suggestive? baking, not proofread as of right now !! ↳ happy valentines, loves !! ♡

data has been uploaded! @soleillunne, @dumbificat, @lovingluxury, @starryshinyskies, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @ainescribe

the jade's guidelines | genshin masterlist | send an ask to join the jade's taglist! specify genshin, honkai or both

with the temperatures now starting to pick up in fontaine, WRIOTHESLEY is fully aware of what holiday is to come. how could he not be? the pink and red merchandise plastered in every shop window, cute cartoon hearts decorating usually ordinary packaging and of course the sweet - but suffocating - scent of roses the moment he enters a supermarket.

winter beginning to fade out only meant one thing... valentines day. as someone who works fairly remotely and only converses with prisoners on the daily of the city's local prison, wriothesley never had a reason to celebrate valentines day. in fact, he would sometimes be caught sneering at the obnoxious colour scheme every time february wrapped around. he'd even go as far as turning his head away, wishing for anything but the twenty-four hours to pass over.

that was until just under a year ago. under the peer pressure of a few friends - namely clorinde and navia, out of the goodness of their hearts, - he'd decided that maybe blind dating wasn't so bad. his tiring routine he'd burned into his mind was beginning to make his body and mind both ache equally as much and all he was starting to think about was a change in his life.

wriothesley was perfectly locked into his habit of waking up early, working at the prison, commuting home and going straight back to sleep but... where's the fun in that? and as navia had quite teasingly stated, he was starting to waste his life away as a workaholic.

that's where he met you, after all. someone who turned a blind eye to the awful schedule of his work rota and that growing collection of different teas he stashed in his kitchen cupboards. in turn, the growing collection was now tucked neatly in your shared kitchen cupboards instead.

now he had a reason to stare at the brightly coloured gifts and cheesy slogans, taking every single factor about you into consideration when it came to the smallest things about valentines; including the card, yes. it took wriothesley an hour and navia's quiet begging for him to choose a card for you, his first valentine. at least, the first one he'd ever cared to delve this far into valentines gifts for.

"you're hopeless," navia whines under her breath as the two exit the store, opening the iced coffee she'd purchased from the chilled section (and i quote, how else was she going to put up with him?), "i didn't think i'd ever see you take valentines this seriously."

her comment perks his attention from his phone, where'd he been texting none other than you whilst you was on your break at work. he makes a noise before chuckling, deep and hearty as he adjusts his tie awkwardly. there's a heat creeping his neck as he clears his throat, eyes darting anywhere but the fashionable blonde as she sips her aforementioned iced coffee with a smug smirk.

"yeah, well - i don't care," he retorts boldly and navia almost spits her coffee out, giggling behind her hand as she covers her lipgloss coated lips for some form of dignity, "sometimes i wonder why i'm still friends with you?"

"rude. anyways, i'm the reason your social circle is so big now. i'm glad i don't have to watch you work yourself to death anymore." navia sighs, shaking her head as the conversation takes a vulnerable turn for the both of them. wriothesley can't deny that despite how much they bicker from siblings, she's always cared for him with good intentions. there's a moment of him debating how clorinde bagged such a kind-hearted girl before he almost makes himself chuckle at the thought.

large calloused hands rummage in the reusable bag you'd shoved into his chest before you hurried out of the door for work this morning, mindlessly checking over all the gifts and ingredients he'd acquired with a slight break in his bank account. your boss had called you in for the morning, already throwing a spanner in the works of your valentines day preparations however they promised you'd be free before lunch - which meant the baking you'd been so excited for could still go ahead, according to plan.

later that day, in the midst of wriothesley fumbling around in the kitchen cupboards as if he was lost in his house, you arrived home. that shift had been less than ideal, adding onto your frustration of being called into work in the first place. yet the grin that etches onto your partner's stubbled face draws you from that frustration; it calms you, eases you into the comfort of his burly arms when you rest your head against his chest and forget your worries.

"work was that bad?" wriothesley's voice murmurs in your ear and you can barely stifle a nod, nuzzling against the warmth radiating through his clothes as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head.

"that bad," you mumble in response, sighing as you force yourself to pull away from your boyfriend's hypnotising hold before you fall asleep standing up, "time to bake out my anger - what recipe did you end choosing?"

"sugar cookies," wriothesley seems quite proud of his choice, a calloused hand gesturing towards the numerous multicoloured sprinkles he'd prepared on the kitchen counter - knowing him, that could be very well the only ingredients he brought, "you know, with that heart cookie cutter you begged for the other week?"

a playful scoff leaves your lips, a gentle hit of your hand against his shoulder as you brush past him, rolling your sleeves up to your elbows so that you can start the tedious process you'd signed yourself up for on this fateful valentines day. the soft hum of wriothesley reverberates around the kitchen of your shared home, sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window and basking in the potted plants you'd decorated the windowsill with.

your friends had been dubious about you moving in so soon with wriothesley but you knew only a few months in that you would trust this man with your life. despite his gruff, solemn demeanour, wriothesley was in your eyes perhaps more akin to a deflated puppy from all his years working in the prison, lacking social experience outside of the prisoners and co-workers he'd dip into conversation with daily.

strong arms wrap around your waist whilst you're busy measuring out ingredients, your eyes narrowed in focus as your gaze darts between the electronic weighing scales and the flour in your unsteady hands as wriothesley takes to wrapping himself like a koala around your body; he's inseparable from you, unable to stay away for mere moments as if you'll disappear if he doesn't have his rough hands somewhere on your soft body.

"i'm trying to focus..." you huff under your breath, biting your tongue as wriothesley rests his chin on your shoulder, watching your precision intently as the warmth of his breath tickles against your neck. it makes your hairs stand on end but not as much as the gentle kiss he presses to your exposed shoulder. you almost elbow him in the ribs for the minor distraction.

"i can see that," he chides with a grin, brushing his stubble against your skin and you really can't say no when a trail of kisses litters your skin from your shoulder to your collarbone and neck, "happy valentines day, darling."

"happy valentines day," you sigh softly, giving up on your endeavour to measure ingredients successfully under these circumstances. you place the opened bag of flour down, leaning back onto his chest in defeat, "i hope you choke on these sugar cookies later."

wriothesley chuckles, his thumbs rubbing rhythmic patterns on your hips where his hands are positioned, holding onto you tightly to stop some manic villain possibly ever stealing you; hey, it's possible! the man lets out a content exhale, appreciative of the warm comfort you give him outside of the gruelling job he'd thrown himself into for a living, "i love you, i really do."

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Bad For Business: Level Four

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.2K] An enemies to lovers au. Arcade coworkers, who love to hate each other, get too competitive about Dig Dug and share a mutal annoyance for the kids that like to pester them. Choose your own adventure by picking an option at the end of the chapter.

There was a boy at the desk asking for you. 

He was tall and a little wild looking, unruly dark curls and tattoos peeking out from under the leather and denim he wore, all ripped off sleeves and silver rings. He was smirking at Steve like he knew something he didn’t, like was in on some sort of secret. 

Steve didn’t like him. 

“She’s on her break,” Steve told him, eyes narrowed like he couldn’t help himself. “Went to the store or something.”

Steve expected that to be the end of it, but the boy with all the rings just grinned, dimples on show before he hoisted himself onto the desk. “I’ll wait,” he said, too cheery. “I’m Eddie, by the way. Munson.”

Steve nodded, keeping his distance as he pretended to tidy away loose rota sheets, used up ticket stubs and a piece of paper Robin and Argyle had been drawing progressively larger dicks on. One had wings and a halo. 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve frowned. He was still suspicious. Why was the local drug dealer coming in and asking for you? The arcade was quiet enough that Steve didn’t have an excuse to leave, and honestly, he wanted to stick around and see. “Just didn’t realise you guys… knew each other.”

Eddie looked smug in an awful way, still acting like he was clued into something Steve didn’t have any idea about. Like he was trying not to laugh at him. The longer haired boy tilted his head to the side, all charm and bravado, still smiling. “Oh yeah.” He nodded, enthusiastic. “We know each other real well. Super close.”

You hadn’t mentioned Eddie before. Not in front of Steve. Fuck, you’d never mentioned any sort of boyfriend at all. But then Steve remembered nights that it rained, when he’d jog to his car only to see you run past him, jacket over your head and clambering into an old van, the windows dark enough that you could never see the driver. 

Maybe he’d been kidding himself all those times when he assumed it was your dad. 

“Oh,” fuck, is that all he could say? “Cool.” 

There was a beat of silence between them, smothered in arcade game jingles and alarm bells that announced a new winner, but the air was heavy enough to be felt, thick with a tension Steve wasn’t used to. 

Was this what being threatened felt like? 

No. No. Steve didn't have anything to feel threatened about. So why was he still talking?

“I guess - I mean - well, I just never knew she had a boyfriend.” Steve cleared his throat, all awkward and he found himself standing a little straighter, chest puffed out, chin held high.  

Thank fuck Robin wasn’t on shift, ‘cause Eddie was laughing and suddenly Steve felt about three feet shorter. What the fuck was this guys problem?

“I didn’t know you gossiped about your love lives, Harrington,” Eddie shot back. His smile was wolfish and it looked like a challenge, it felt like a dare. “You interested in who she’s hangin’ out with outside of work?”

“What?” It was jarring, the way Steve’s stomach dropped. A new kind of nervousness twisting around his guts, a heat that crawled from his stomach to his chest. His cheeks felt too warm. “What? No. Jesus, no, I just— we’re not even friends.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it still tasted like one. Bitter and acidic, like swallowing a too big pill without water. It got stuck in his throat, made him wince. 

Eddie tutted, leaning back in his hands, taking up the majority of space on the counter top. His legs were swinging, rips across his knees in his black jeans, a chain hanging from his belt looks, glinting in the neon lights. He looked like he was having far too much fun. 

“That’s a shame,” Eddie twisted his lips, big eyes looking all sad, acting up like he was on stage or something. “She’s real sweet, isn’t she?”

Steve scoffed, a choked out laugh that made Eddie’s lips twitch up. Steve busied himself with more loose papers, bundling together things that weren’t supposed to be filed with each other, name badges and empty chocolate wrappers stuck between faxes. 

“Uh, sure, maybe,” Steve wrinkled his nose, squinting at the other boy. “I don’t know. She’s never, uh, all that sweet to me.”

And then Eddie was laughing, a full, bright cackle of a laugh and Steve was once again left feeling like he didn’t know the full joke. But he didn’t get to ask what he’d missed, what was so funny, ‘cause a kid who could hardly see over the desk approached him, a sticky hand full of equally sticky tickets that he wanted to swap for some knock off Star Wars toy. Disgruntled, Steve fussed with the glass cabinet where they kept all the ‘prizes’, his gaze flickering between Eddie and the door.  

Surely you’d be back soon. Right? To see your boyfriend.  

When the kid was gone, happily clutching his ‘nightsaber’ (even Steve knew that was wrong), Eddie was watching him again. 

“She’s pretty, right?” 

Steve froze. “What?” Was this some kind of trick? Who the fuck goes ‘round asking other dudes if they think their girlfriend is pretty? “I don’t— I’ve never—”

Eddie was grinning. Again. That Cheshire Cat smile, white teeth flashing somewhat threateningly. Steve didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Was this about last week? The powercut? Did you go home and tell your boyfriend how close Steve got to you, how he held your hand and for once in his goddamn life, Steve Harrington didn’t wanna argue with you?

“You don’t think she’s cute?”

Nothing had happened. Nothing ever would’ve. It couldn’t. You hated him, and Steve hated you. Right? Right. 

“Look, dude, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m not trying to hit on your girl, alright?” Someone got a new high score on the pinball machine across from the desk and an alarm rang, tickets flying out of the dispenser, lights flashing red and green. It felt like a warning. “She— we— we don’t talk, alright? Not like that, god, we’re not friends, okay?”

Eddie didn’t really seem to believe him, but Steve was more than relieved when the boy shrugged and slid off of the counter, dimples on show, beaming at him. He dusted his hands off like he’d completed whatever task he’d come to do before dropping a set of keys in front of Steve. 

“Tell uh, my girl, that it was a radiator leak. No biggie. Car’s out front,” another flash of a smile, too charming now. Steve’s head was spinning. “Catch you later lover boy.”

What the fuck?

Eddie made his way past a crowd of kids, neon signs lighting up his skin in shades of lime green and fuschia. He spun before he got to the door, clapping his hands together and pointing back at the other boy, like he’d just remembered something important. 

Is this where Eddie threatened him? Told him to stop looking at his girlfriend and keep his hands to himself? It was a fucking powercut, it was pitch black, what was he supposed to do? Let her hurt herself? The argument was already playing out in Steve’s head, his defence at the ready. 

Besides, he could take Eddie Munson, right? Sure he was pretty much the same height but Steve was broader, stronger, surely. But maybe Eddie had that trailer park kid scrappiness, that feral sort of energy Dustin said Max exuded when she got ramped up—

“And, uh, Harrington?”

Steve felt his fist tighten around the countertop. 

“You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.” Eddie saluted, a massive skull glinting silver and pink in the light, and then with a wink, he was gone. 

What the fuck?

He didn’t get a chance to ask what Eddie was on about, because Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson approached the desk, ignoring how he was standing with his mouth agape, brows knitted together in confusion. Everything was almost forgotten about as he argued with the two young boys about how no, he didn’t know when Donkey along was getting fixed, and no, he wasn’t prepared to let them poke about at the machine with Dustin’s backpack screwdriver. 

And then you came back from your lunch, a flash of daylight breaking the darkness of the arcade as the door opened and shut behind you. Steve watched you hand a wrapped sandwich to Argyle before making your way around the desk to where he stood. 

Maybe he was staring, maybe that’s why you were looking at him weird. Maybe that’s just the kinda gaze you gave him on the daily. You were wearing a skirt today, black and swishy around your thighs, your staff shirt cut off so it hit just above your navel, much to Murray’s despair. There was a warning written up and stuck to your locker, but you hadn’t seemed to care. 

“What?”

Shit, Steve was still staring. He blinked, shrugged and turned back to the cash machine, despite no customers to serve. “What? Nothin’, god.”

You didn’t argue with him, just narrowing your eyes at his strange mood before pushing your way into the staff room. It was empty bar someone’s leftover lunch and a walkman that lay on the table and then suddenly Steve was barging his way into the too small room, a familiar set of keys in his hands. Your disco ball keychain sent rainbows over the walls, tiny glimmers of light across Steve’s cheeks, his hands, his arms. 

He held them out to you, cheeks tinged pink like something had happened and you’d missed it, ‘cause he couldn’t really look you in the eye either. You stared, taking your keys from the boy slowly, like any sudden movements would scare him. 

Not that you cared. 

Steve spoke before you could say thanks, leaning against Murray’s abandoned desk with his hands shoved in his pockets as he cleared his throat. The air was heavy with something, more tension than you were used to, a weight to it that was more than summer air and teenage hormones. 

“Your uh, your boyfriend dropped them off,” Steve was finally looking at you, brown eyes honeycomb in the too bright lights. “Said it was a broken radiator or somethin’.”

You frowned, confused at the word that was thrown out between you. Boyfriend? But once again, before you could manage to speak, Steve was talking again, all his thoughts tumbling out at once, swimming at your feet. 

“Eddie Munson, huh? I didn’t— I didn’t know you were dating him. Or anyone. Not that it matters,” Steve sucked in a breath, like he was trying to catch each sentence, like he could swallow back the words he’d already said. “It doesn’t matter, obviously. Why would it? I mean, fuck, s’not like we share updates on our love lives or shit—” 

“Harrington.”

“—like, I don’t care if you’re dating him, I just didn’t, like, except it, you know? Munson? Didn’t think he was your type, not that I know what your type is, s’not like I think about it or anything—”

“Steve.”

The boy stopped talking, jaw snapping shut as he looked at you, a little wide eyed. He was breathing a little heavier, hands leaving his pockets only to take through his hair. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You played with the keys in your hands, disco ball keychain clinking prettily between the silver. The reflections scattered, rainbow coloured freckles on Steve’s cheeks. “I’m not dating Eddie, we’re just friends.”

You weren't sure why you were explaining this.

“But Munson said—” Steve stopped mid sentence, the abruptness of it hanging in the air between you. Eddie hadn’t said you were dating. Eddie hadn’t called himself your boyfriend, had he? No. That was Steve’s doing. “Uh, he called you his girl… I just assumed…”

You snorted, eyes rolling in a way that held a lot more affection than what he was used to seeing when it was directed at him. You shrugged, dropping yourself into a chair at the table, eyeing Steve with a new sort of curiosity. He really was acting fucking weird. 

“We’re close,” you said, copying Eddie’s words from earlier without even knowing. “Best friends, you know? Nothing… nothing more.”

“Oh.” Steve’s lips were a pretty ‘o’ shape, pink and pouting and you practically saw the gears inside his head whirring. “Right.”

“He was probably just trying to be funny,” you explained, unwrapping a chocolate bar you’d taken from your bag. You bit into it, licking caramel from your lips. “He’s not though. Despite what he thinks.”

Steve nodded, looking a little dazed, but he pushed himself off of Murray’s desk and sent you another look you couldn’t really decipher. Before he made it back to the door that led to the arcade, you stopped him, an edge to your voice that wasn’t there before. 

“Did he, uh,” you winced when your voice cracked, staring at the table instead of the boy. “Did Eddie say anything else?”

Steve almost kicked the desk leg, swearing as he spun back to you, eyes darting over your face, like he was trying to work something out. He thought about Eddie’s questions. 

If Steve thought you were sweet. If Steve thought you were pretty. 

“What?”

‘You’ll catch more bees with honey than vinegar.’

“Did he say anything? You know, stupid shit.” You licked your lips again, chasing sugar, looking nervous. 

Lover boy lover boy lover boy. 

“No,” Steve lied, feeling something burn in his chest. Maybe it was the breath he was holding. “No, he didn’t say anything else.”

[goggles-mcgee]

Too Late: Aurore & Mireille

Latest chapter in the story for @miner249er

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Summary: All Aurore wanted was a peaceful, stress-free day from all that was going on in the chaos that had become Paris. Just a day out with her best friend, thinking about nothing but of course life was never that easy and her day never got the chance to be peaceful. Though it did end interestingly.

__________

Aurore sighed as she twirled her parasol between her fingers. She could feel her best friend’s gaze on her but she really didn’t know how to put all the thoughts in head into words. Usually Mireille was the ‘quiet’ one out of the two but lately Aurore hadn’t felt up to talking much even with so much to talk about. Or maybe it was the fact she only wanted to talk about one thing and that one thing made the two of them depressed and caused Mireille to spiral more often than not. Though it would be a discredit to Mireille if Aurore believed her friend didn’t know exactly what, no who, was on her mind. It was just better for the both of them that Aurore did not voice it but that was her vicious cycle, it was all she wanted to talk about. Oh at first she tried to talk of other things, the weather, the hottest gossip at school (but that quickly fell into the category of the person she was avoiding bringing up), or whatever mundane thing she could think up. The problem was now instead of those things being the distractions they were meant to be, they were now reminders. 

Reminders of The Protector.

Of Marinette. 

Even just thinking the teen’s name made her throat tighten. Before she had disappeared, Marinette had become a very close friend of Aurore and Mireille. Though she never wanted them to be public about it out of fear of the reactions of her former friends and the Liar. Aurore had always argued that her class would protect Marinette and nothing could break their friendship but the girl would merely give her a small smile and say things were enough for her. After a while they gave up arguing with her, they were just happy to have her friendship and Aurore wished that truly had been enough. Friendship was supposed to save the day. That’s what all those kids' shows told them, it’s what parents encouraged and it’s what Aurore had foolishly believed in even in the face of what Hawkmoth had turned Paris into. When reality hit her in the face, it hit her hard.

Aurore had been like a lot of Paris’s population that saw their heroes as this dynamic duo. Best friends out to fight the evil of the world! Then the group grew and so had the belief, because here was a friend group bestowed with powers beyond imagination and they fought for good, they fought the evil that tried to oppress the people of Paris. It wasn’t hard for Aurore to get caught up in it all, the magic, the heroism, the fights, the everything. It was like seeing her favorite shows come to life and she was constantly in awe. She remembered feeling as in awe of the group as she was envious. They were living out her childhood dream. Then she along with all of Paris found out the fantastic group of friends that defended them from Hawkmoth and Mayura wasn’t as tight-knit as they all had believed. It shouldn’t have been as world-shattering as it had been.

And yet it was.

If Hawkmoth had not been…stopped by The Protector, Aurore was sure she would have been akumatized. Actually she was willing to bet money that most of Paris would have been akumatized if the villain hadn’t been stopped. It was weird, being able to feel emotions properly once more and Aurore, like many, hadn’t known how to move forward when they realized that. She had become so used to forcing herself to only be happy and when she did get angry or something like it all she felt was fear. Mireille and she had spoken about it often as neither had been comfortable enough to go to their channel's newly hired therapist. The lady was nice enough, but Aurore just couldn’t bring herself to trust the woman. Mireille had just been afraid to have to talk to a stranger about personal things, so the two of them decided they would just talk to one another. It wasn’t healthy, they knew that, but it wasn’t an easy thing to stop. 

The one thing they avoided talking about though after a particularly bad panic attack from Mireille and a rather bad dip in Aurore’s depression was Marinette going missing. Again, they knew it wasn’t healthy, Aurore’s father pointed it out any time she brought it up tentatively, but it hurt too much to acknowledge beyond the basics. Though Aurore knew that only made her parents worry more and she was pretty sure they were looking at therapists outside of Paris to take her to. She knew she was getting bad so she knew they weren’t going to ask if it was something she wanted to do, it was going to be something she needed to do. Even if she understood that, it didn’t make the anger, betrayal, or anguish she felt lessen. Mireille was in the same boat though, apparently her parents were talking to Aurore’s and this was going to be a group thing. That’s why she asked her friend to take a walk today. To warn her. 

The problem was trying to bring it up without it ruining their day out, though Aurore was not confident that could be accomplished no matter what. She didn’t want to wait till the end of their outing, because she knew holding in that information would make her act unlike herself and Mireille would notice. While they ate was also out of the question because she knew that neither she nor Mireille would be up to eating if she did, but that was also why she feared the ‘ripping the band-aid off’ method. If she brought it up right now, at the beginning of their day she ran the risk of their day being ruined and them not even making it to the cute little bistro their coworker Eileen had suggested earlier that week. But she couldn’t not tell Mireille, her best friend deserved to know what their respective parents were planning!

“What’s going on between those pigtails of yours?” Mireille joked softly.

Aurore gulped, she knew Mireille would notice something. “A lot.” 

The girl beside her hummed, “Anything I can help with?”

“I don’t think this is something that will go away so easily…” Aurore muttered as she looked down at her shoes, she watched the way the sun shined off the material as they walked, she absolutely couldn’t handle looking at Mireille. 

“Well,” Mireille mused, “it might not go away easily, most things don’t, but talking certainly makes things a little better. Don’t you agree?”

“I agree…” She said a little hesitantly, but Aurore did actually agree. “It’s just…I don’t think my parents do. Well I mean they do but they don’t. They- It's complicated. Or maybe it’s not and I’m the one complicating everything! I don’t know.”

Mireille stopped walking and gently tugged on Aurore’s arm to get her to stop as well which made the blonde girl look up at her friend. Something she somewhat regretted as Mireille looked at her with her big doe-eyes and Aurore knew she would tell her everything despite the fear that seemed to have her heart in a grip. “Aurore. Whatever it is, I bet it’s not worth you making yourself stressed. You’ll make yourself sick like that.”

She huffed in reply, Mireille was definitely the Mom Friend, though Marc told her she could be as well, maybe they traded off the role. “I know Mir. It’s just…I overheard my parents talking and I don’t think I would be as upset if I knew it was just about me but they were talking to your parents too. Not there. At my house or anything, but like, over the phone on speaker. I had just put Pier down for a nap and was going to tell my parents that he was sleeping and grab a snack but I heard them talking and it sounded serious. And I just…I eavesdropped.” 

Aurore watched as Mireille bit her lip, a bad habit her friend had when she was nervous. “Is it…Is it bad? What they were talking about. Is it bad?”

“No?”

“You don’t sound positive.”

“It’s not bad. I mean it’s really not but…” Aurore bit her lip now. “They uh, my parents were telling yours that they are looking at therapists outside the city to take me too. They didn’t talk to me about it which I guess I can kind of understand. I have turned down all the ones here in Paris…”

“Me too.” Mireille admitted quietly.

Aurore gulped because she guessed as much. “My dad never really said anything, but when I mentioned we talk to each other…he didn’t look happy. I mean he also didn’t look upset or mad, but he definitely didn’t look happy. He and mom brought up talking to a professional after that and I said I’d think about it-”

“Which, in Aurore talk, means no.”

“Yes, well, I honestly thought they had forgotten about it. I don’t…I don’t want to talk to a stranger about myself or what I’m feeling…but my parents think I need to. They found out I had overheard and well…It turned into an argument but, in some ways I can see where they are coming from. I don’t…I don’t feel like myself a lot of the time anymore.”

Mireille was quiet, but it wasn’t her normal quiet and it scared Aurore. Sure they often spoke to one another about how they were feeling but she was pretty sure they both held back a lot too so they wouldn’t be a burden. Which is nonsense because Mireille could never be a bother. “I…I don’t think I’m okay.”

The admission wasn’t surprising but it still made tears well in Aurore’s eyes. “Me too…”

“My parents…my parents are looking for a therapist for me too aren’t they?” Mireille asked in a small voice.  

Aurore nodded.

“I’m…I don’t want to but I know they’ve been worried…” The shy girl sighed. 

“Mine too. I feel bad…” Aurore admitted as she took one of Mireille’s hands in her own and continued their walk. “But…there’s really nothing we can do to stop them. I just wanted you to know. I’m sure your parents wouldn’t ambush you with this but…you needed to know and I couldn’t keep it from you.”

Mireille squeezed her hand. “I appreciate that.”

The two stayed quiet as they walked, occasionally they swung their hands but overall they didn’t speak. Aurore wanted to give Mireille time to digest everything she had told her and she had no doubt it was a lot to digest and sort through feelings wise. Aurore herself had been furious when she first overheard her parent’s conversation. She didn’t think she needed to see a complete stranger and talk about her life. Her life was fine, it wasn’t great but it wasn’t awful and that was something right? She was happy sometimes, though more often than not, if she wasn’t with Mireille, Marc, or her younger brother Pier, she felt numb. Like she was going through the motions as if she had gone through each day a hundred times despite knowing she hadn’t. She tried to keep her grades up but she knew they had been slipping, it wasn’t like she was failing but she could no longer say she was doing her best to achieve high grades. She did what was necessary or whatever she felt she had enough energy to do. Sometimes just staring at her homework overwhelmed her to tears.

So maybe, yeah, she could see why her parents finally had enough of her behavior and just straight up told her she was going to see someone to talk to instead of asking her. Though to be fair to Aurore, she had tried to talk to a therapist here in Paris but the first session ended up with the therapist themselves breaking down as apparently Aurore was the first client they had had post-Hawkmoth’s defeat. She had sat there through the most heartbreaking breakdown she had ever witnessed and she had seen a lot seeing as she worked in show-biz. The therapist went on about how he was scared he would become akumatized again-and boy hadn’t that been a sad eye-opener; even their therapists weren’t safe-he was terrified of feeling even the slightest bit of emotion during a session even if he knew that Hawkmoth posed no threat anymore. Aurore didn’t blame him. No in the least. But she did not return after that session and told her parents that they should email him and maybe suggest he go see a therapist, preferably outside Paris.

Maybe it was that, her suggestion there, that had given her parents the idea of seeking a therapist for their daughter in Reims. If anything she guessed they were going to tell her they were visiting her grandparents who lived in said city and would ambush her with the appointment. Sadly, it would have been effective as she felt like all she wanted to do was run given she now knew about said appointment, or future appointment. She didn’t actually know if they had booked anything but let it not be said that they did not know their daughter. They knew she would have protested or done something dramatic like run to her cousin CiCi’s place which was still a plan that lingered in the back of her mind. But…there was a voice in her head that sounded too similar to Marinette than she was comfortable with, shouting at her to not run away. To not back down. You got this Aurore! 

“You’re not thinking of running to CiCi’s are you?” Mireille really did know her better than most. 

Aurore chuckled weakly. “The thought has crossed my mind more times than I can count Mir…It’s always my back-up…but-but I know in this case I shouldn’t. Or well, more like there’s a voice telling me not to and giving me a right scolding if I even briefly think about CiCi.”

Mireille nodded before she bit her lip, she looked a little apprehensive which made Aurore feel apprehensive in return. “Scolding, huh? That little voice wouldn’t happen to sound like…like Mar…like Mari…like her would it?”

Another chuckle, though this one was remarkably wetter than the last. “You know I can’t lie to you Mir. Yeah…it, uh, it sounds like Marinette.”

Her name hung in the air like a noose but Aurore trooped on, she wanted to say her friend’s name. She wanted to hear her name. Her real name, not the idolized name people referred to her by, not the akuma name others called her in reverence, her actual name, her normal name. A name she introduced herself with with pride. “It sounds so much like her Mir…”

“I think I have a voice like that too…” Mireille confessed on a cry. “She scolds me when I’m being ‘silly’ or she comforts me when everything just gets too much. I miss her Aurore! I really miss her!”

The sound of her friend crying made Aurore cry and soon they were just standing on the sidewalk hugging each other like the other might disappear too and they just cried. As sad as it was to say, this was not an unusual sight for the people of Paris as of late, random bursts of emotion were as commonplace as a sneeze nowadays. The news said something about delayed reactions, others said something about repressed emotions, all Aurore could see and understand was the damage. These bursts were a good thing yes but they were also the ugly damage left behind by an unremorseful terrorist. Normal was a thing of the past and yet it was something Aurore ached for day by day. She yearned to not wake up and stare in her mirror and tell herself to be happy no matter how she actually felt, to wear a smile despite her facial muscles protesting. It was what she had done every morning when Hawkmoth and Mayura were still a thing and it was a habit she still couldn’t shake. It was like how her mother would play Vanina* every morning because it was her favorite song and would give her a little extra cheer, or how her father started his days wearing his fathers old Dog Tag because his father had been such a positive person, or so he said. Aurore never got to meet the man. 

The damage stayed like a persistent stain. Faded but never gone. 

The two gave each other one final squeeze before they let go and gave each other a strained smile. Aurore giggled sadly and shook her head. “You still hungry?”

“Mireille tiredly chuckled back and shook her head, “No. You?”

Aurore gave a wry smile. “Nope.”

“Want to just take a walk? I don’t feel like going home just yet.” 

“Mir, that sounds like an excellent idea.” Aurore declared as she looped one arm through Mireille’s and picked up her forgotten parasol, she hadn’t even noticed when it had fallen. 

They hadn’t even moved more than two steps when they heard footsteps rapidly approaching them and all of a sudden Aurore felt the breath knocked out of her and she was on the ground in a tangle of limbs. She heard Mireille shriek and all she could do was groan back. She thought she even heard a snap and prayed that it hadn’t been her parasol. She didn’t need another thing to add to the already big list of things she was feeling crummy about. Before she could shout at whoever decided to bulldoze her and her friend she was unceremoniously pulled up on her feet. She felt hands brushing off her shoulders and heard someone frantically apologizing and that’s when she finally noticed that the person-no-people who had knocked them over were Luka and Kagami. Both of whom looked pale, shaken, and just a tad frustrated. “I’m so so sorry Aurore! We didn’t mean to run you guys’ over!”

“Luka is correct, it was not our intention but you see we are running from some…rather persistent people and..” Kagami said with a wince as she tapped her foot. Adrenaline obviously still coursing through her veins and with the way he kept glancing over his shoulder, the same could be said about Luka.

“Wait, you guys are being chased?” Mireille cried out in shock. Aurore didn’t really think twice about grabbing at Luka and Kagami and running in the direction of the Seine. Mireille was startled if the noise she let out was anything to go by but she caught on quick and then all of them were running. There was no plan really, but Aurore knew Luka, ish, and she knew his family lived on that houseboat on the Seine, it was hard to miss. So she figured if they ran towards the body of water, they would see the boat sooner or later and that would be their safe haven. She voiced as much and left them all to discuss whatever they wanted but Aurore could only think about getting these two to safety. 

She had seen how crazed some people were getting over any information they could get about Marinette in any of her identities or forms. It was maddening. It was frightening. Like everyone else, she had seen the news about Madame Bustier’s murder, and had heard through the grapevine about what happened to Lila. It might not be The Followers who were after Luka and Kagami but there was no way that Aurore was going to risk it. So they ran and ran until they caught sight of the house boat. Thankfully it was docked and even though she was out of breath, Aurore pointed to it and they all clumsily made their way over but before they could even think of boarding they ran by an elderly couple who had been crossing the street at the same time as them but were doing so slowly. Aurore desperately wanted to just run on the boat, to get to safety but as the echoes of distant footsteps rang in her ears she shook her head and let go of Luka and Kagami. She felt the stop but she just continued to make her way to the couple even as her heart thumped in her chest violently. 

“Aurore?” Mireille wanted.

“They’ll get trampled Mir. You can hear them. They’re not going to stop even if they see them.” 

“They might.” Kagami said reluctantly.

“But they might not.” Luka said back.

Mireille bit her lip but nodded and all four of them ran to the couple and helped them across the street, trying not to rush them even as the footsteps got closer, got louder. The closer and louder they got, the more Aurore’s hands shook but she would absolutely not abandon these poor old folks. 

“You children are very kind.” The woman said with a kind smile, one Aurore couldn’t help but return. The woman reminded her of her grandmère.

“Yes, but I do believe you are in a rush. Do not let us keep you any longer.” The man said with an equally kind smile, though his was tinged with a sadness Aurore didn’t understand but somehow felt all the same. 

“Be safe.” Luka said firmly but with his own smile before they all waved at the couple and ran as fast as they could because they heard the footsteps come out of the alley they had come from shortly before and they didn’t want to waste any time. There were some shouts of recognition from the small crowd and Aurore had been tempted to look back but she did trust herself not to trip if she did so, so she just ran. She ran and swore to herself she would wear more comfortable shoes from now on because her undoubtedly cute Mary-Janes were pretty but her feet were killing her. 

They all clumsily ran on deck and promptly fell into a pile once more as it seemed their bodies had run out of adrenaline once they deemed they were in safe territory. The noise made Madame Couffaine come barreling out of nowhere with a sword of all things but when she saw the gaggle of children slumped on the deck and from the sounds Aurore heard and the way the woman’s neck snapped to shore, she was pretty sure she also saw a crowd chasing said kids. Without any help from the exhausted children, Aurore watched as the woman swiftly undocked the boat and before she knew it they were sailing and it was anything but smooth but she was grateful to get away. In time, the ride and they calmed down and Madame Couffaine-Anarka, as she asked to be called-led them down into the living room-esque room to let them calm down further as she got them somewhere safe and quiet. She recommended they tell their parents which Kagami, Mireille and Aurore did swiftly. 

For a moment they all just sat there until Luka made a face when he plopped down face first on the couch and sat up. “Ow.”

“What is wrong?” Kagami asked in concern.

“Something in my pocket poked me.” He mumbled as he reached into his sweater pocket. 

“Now that you mention it, it feels like there is something in my jacket pocket too. It feels heavier.” Mireille said as she furrowed her brows and stood up so she could rummage in her jacket pockets since said jacket was wrapped around her waist. 

Aurore watched in mild interest as the two dug in their pockets only to pull out two identical boxes. Mireille looked confused, Luka looked like he had seen a ghost. That’s what had Aurore sit up straight. “Gami…” His voice shook when he spoke too.

Kagami too stood up and started going through her own pockets before she took her mini backpack off her shoulders and saw the big pocket open. With shaking hands she opened it further and reached in. It was a surprise to Aurore when she pulled out a third identical box, but to Kagami and Luka it looked like they expected it and were still somewhat in shock. “What…?”

“Aurore. I promise we’ll explain in a minute but can you please check yourself to see if you got a box as well.” Luka pleaded and well, Aurore really couldn’t say no to his desperation. So she checked her small clutch and found nothing but remembered her skirt had pockets and she was wearing a petticoat so if something was in there she probably wouldn’t feel it. So with a deep breath taken in she reached into her own pockets and when her hand met wood her eyes widened. Out she brought the fourth identical box and heard Luka laugh a little hysterically, a little breathlessly while Kagami slowly lowered herself back onto the couch. 

Mireille and Aurore shared a look before Mireille frowned at the two other teens, “What’s going on?”

Next Chapter

[miracles-and-butterflies]

What makes Mirabel Pedro's favourite in Alas Rotas?

Eh, pretty much the same reasons as the other AUs where Pedro favours Mirabel.

[dudd-ie]

MEGA ESPECIAL NEGANAKA

Minicomic:(au-un dia.)

Prologo:devoción.

[durante mi ultimo encarcelamiento, habia decidido pasar mis días finales simplemente esperando mi ejecución.]

[estaba cansado de seguir huyendo,creí que era inútil continuar resistiéndome a ese miserable destino.]

[sin embargo, cuando creí que todo estaba perdido...]

[tú apareciste frente a mi, señorita]

[me liberaste de aquella cosa pesada.]

[yo,que una vez fui abandonado, herido y derrotado, pude volver a levantarme porque estabas ahí para mi.]

[yonaka,tu le diste un propósito y esperanza a mi miserable vida.]

[te volviste ese calido rayo de esperanza que había estado anelhando por tanto tiempo.]

[jure convertirme en tu espada y escudo en este maldito castillo]

[incluso si moría en el intento, quería protegerte hasta el final.]

[salvarte se sentía como salvarme a mi mismo...te valore más que a mi propia vida]

[en este mundo caótico y loco, fuiste la única luz que me mantuvo cuerdo entre tanta oscuridad.]

[mientras más me aferraba a ti,más codiciosos se volvían mis sentimientos...]

[fue un error pensar que a tu lado podría escapar de mi destino.]

[aun asi, estaba bien con ese tipo de final. creí que mi sacrifício seria lo que te liberaria de este infierno...]

[pero ironicamente, mi muerte fue lo que te sumergio mas en la oscuridad del castillo mogeko]

[no te preocupes...]

[yonaka... incluso si tú alma fue rota y corrompida por el dios de este mundo...]

[...lo que siento por ti no va a cambiar]

[mi único deseo.... es estar a tu lado.]

.

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.

Au basado en el final normal, yonaka hizo un trato con el dios de prosciutto en que acambio de vencerlo él le concederia un deseo(en caso de perder ella cederia a su control)

Usando los poderes del dios prosciutto, yonaka consiguió resucitar a nega y con su apoyo planearon que él la matará para acabar con su tragédia.

El plan tiene exito, y yonaka muere a manos del mogeko defectuoso, por lo que el dios del prosciutto cumple el deseo de yonaka "Reiniciando" su vida momentos antes de que terminara en el castillo mogeko(y evitando que terminara ahi).

Sin embargo ella todavia conservaria vagos "recuerdos" de su "vida pasada" que interpretaria como pesadillas.

Nega al parecer también formo parte del deseo de yonaka por lo que cuando se "reinício" el mundo,el mogeko defectuoso también tuvo vagos recuerdos de todo lo que vivio con yonaka y uso aquello a su favor para cambiar su destino y el de los mogekos especiales.

Debido a los recuerdos que nega tenia de yonaka, él sentia un profundo afecto y lealtad hacia ella, por lo que escapo al mundo humano con la finalidad de encontrarla y protegerla como pago por todo lo que hizo por él.

En este au su forma humana fue dada con ayuda del hada de prosciutto,metió a nega en una especie de capullo de mariposa y lo hizo renacer con esa apariencia humana.

él se convirtió en algo parecido a su ángel guardian,solo la cuidaba desde la distancia,no podía acercarsele porque nega temía revivir los traumaticos recuerdos que ella vivió en el castillo.

Lo que no sabía es que yonaka en el fondo no era feliz pese a haber vuelto a su vida normal, puesto que sus experiencia de vida pasada hacia que se sintiera como que había perdido algo valioso (a nega).

Con el tiempo vuelven a reconocerse y ambos se dan otra oportunidad para ser felices juntos.

Mención honorífica a letra de la canción Kim feel-one day por darme la inspiración para escribir este au.

Siento que su letra es perfecta para yonaka y nega dentro de este au (sobretodo con yonaka):

"He estado viviendo en la oscuridad por mucho tiempo

Con mangas gastadas y hombros cansado

En un lugar que se repite.

Con los recuerdos de un amor que no conocí.

A ti que me hacías sonreír aveces,te extraño.

Encontremonos al menos un día por casualidad.

Como el día en que nos separamos terriblemente.

Incluso si no nos reconocemos y pasamos por un camino desconocido.

Solo déjalo así para poder continuar.

No puedo dejar así los sueños de mi corazón

Di mi nombre cuando regreses a mi

Si nos encontramos en otro momento,en el futuro, espero que podamos vivir una vida deslumbrante.

Tal vez me olvide de ti

pero empezaré a recordar otra vez,lentamente como era en ese entonces."

Extra.

Considerenlo un au-reina yonaka (final malo)

Esta vez no existe el trato entre yonaka y el dios del prosciutto,pero yonaka si consigue resistirse a su control.

Devido a su inestabilidad,su poder divino consigue resucitar a nega al ser un deseo subconsciente de yonaka

En este au nega no tiene el valor de asesinar a yonaka y decide quedarse a su lado a intentar sanar su mente y recuperar las piezas de lo que quedó de su yonaka luego de que el dios prosciutto hubiera corrompido su alma.

Esta versión de yonaka es más retorcida por lo que el amor puro que tenía por el mogeko defectuoso también terminó corrupto.

Ella adora a nega,pero en su mente él es como un remplazo para shinya,por lo que su insana obsesión también se transfirió a él.

En resumen: yonaka en este final malo divergente tomo a nega de concubina 🗿

la concubina favorita del rey.

Yonaka:"ya no es necesario que me hagas compañía por las noches"

Yonaka:"apartir de ahora solo nega tiene permitido estar en mi dormitorio ¿entendido?"

Moge-ko:("PREFIERES ACOSTARTE CON ESE DEFECTUOSO ANTES QUE CON MOGE-KO?!")

.

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.fin del mega especial neganaka.

[euphoricfilter]

can u write bully ☺️

“𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧”:

pairing: bully! kim taehyung x stalker-ish f! reader

genre: strangers to ??? || smut || non-idol au

summary: taehyung was probably the prettiest man you knew, though you were a little too shy to approach him first. however, it seems you may have caught taehyung’s eye, and his obsession with you may rival your own for him.

word count: 3k

tags/ warnings: self-depreciation, jealousy, stalker behavior, humiliation but reader kinda has a humiliation kink so it’s fine, kind of tsundere taehyung, dom! taehyung, sub! reader, sir kink, spitting in mouth, dub-con, exhibitionalism, dacryphilia, unprotected sex (this is fiction don’t be stupid), dumbification/ degradation manhandling, creampie, cum play, briefly mentioned nipple play, they do other stuff in public that i would gauge my eyes out if i ever saw, luckily this isn’t real

notes: not so much bully, more mean dom taehyung who won’t admit he likes our dear reader but he’s also kind of an ass. if anyone you like treats you like this then run please :’)

request rules can be found here || my masterlist

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Kim Taehyung was the prettiest man you knew.

You’d been working at the quaint little coffee shop for a couple of years, Taehyung joining only months after you had. Many shifts shared together, evenings spent in each other’s silent company before one of you would lock up for the night.

Taehyung was perfect. A god amongst humans. Sculpted by the heavens’ best artist to make sure that every crevice of his body was beyond ordinary human beauty. He was a vibrant rose that had bloomed on a dead bush. A fleck of vibrant paint on an otherwise white canvas.

You think Taehyung was more the moon rather than the sun, a little too ominous, and all too mysterious for him to be the sun. His aura more the night sky than the day where grey clouds could cover his beauty, where little specks of stardust surround him like a halo wherever he walks.

Your favorite thing about Taehyung was his hands. How elegant they were. How they held the handle of a mug as he brewed a coffee, how his lithe fingers sweep his bangs from his eyes as he steams milk; how those same pretty fingers wrap around your throat when he gets mad. Or his hot touch after his hand collides with your cheek. Painting them to match the pink evening sky.

It had started out as an innocent crush. The new barista who had the attention of man and woman alike, both customer and employee of the cafe.

It had started with you stealing short glances in his direction. Watching as he wiped down tables, and smiled at girls whose figures were better than your own. Smiles that you wished were pointed in your direction. But you suppose pretty men went for pretty people, and maybe you just weren’t perfect enough for Taehyung.

That was okay, though. Because you were more content watching him.

Shy glances had morphed into daydreams. Daydreams fueled by longing, your eyes following his every move as he danced around the cafe, so in tune with his body that he never bumped into a table. Not like you, a little clumsy and too careless. Never elegant, never perfect.

Daydreams moulded into curiosity. Where does he live? Go to school? His friends? You wanted to know it all. Your free afternoons were spent slipping in and out of shadows, making sure that Taehyung had gotten home safely, wondering why a few too many girls touched over his shoulders, delicate fingers trailing down his chest when he’d meet them at pc cafes before he’d walk to campus for his evening lectures. Why it always seemed to be a polite smile in their direction, never anything else.

He was a good man, never leading anyone on. Genuine in his conversation, interest in someone else’s life never fake.

You’d gotten good at knowing his schedule. Your pitiful little heart pattering against your rib cage when your cafe’s new rota would be hung up on the wall; evenings now spent together between making coffee and wiping tables. Though you never dared utter a word to him, happier being a name to face rather than an acquaintance where you’d have to keep up conversation. How were you meant to think when all you could think about was him?

Over time you had started to get a little careless, peeking through gaps in doors and stumbling into little shops behind him before his long legs would pull him away from you. Figure morphing into the darkness of an alleyway, a new way home that you hadn’t seen him take before.

“What do you want?” Taehyung says, eyes still trained on his phone as he sits at the dingy little table in the cafe’s break-room, and you swallow thickly. His deep voice shaking your heart.

You say nothing, thinking there was no way he could talking to you. Maybe someone on his phone; his tone nothing like the angelic Taehyung that you’d known, watched for months now.

“I asked what you wanted” he drops his phone to the table, gaze turning towards the door where you hide.

You take a look behind you, stumbling forwards when the door is yanked open, your cheeks smacking against a hard chest.

Your breath hitches, eyes squeezing shut momentarily as you feel Taehyung’s chest rumble, was he laughing at you?

“I asked—” he pushes your head from his chest, causing you to stumble backwards, “—what the fuck you wanted” he sneers.

You peer up at him through your lashes, eyes wide as your mouth falls open. “Coffee” you squeak, “Do you want coffee?”

He tilts his head, corner of his lips tugging up into an unamused smile, “Fuck off” he grabs the door before slamming it closed.

You let out a shuddering breath, hand coming to press over your heart.

Maybe he was having a bad day.

You didn’t let that ruin your mood, because for the first time since meeting him; you just had a conversation with Kim Taehyung.

Your lips curl up into a smile, small skip in your step as wander back out front of the cafe to help your friend serve a few more customers.

Your second mistake, was the day you and Taehyung were left in the cafe alone.

The sun had slipped behind a few of the high rise buildings, the sky coated in an orangey hue. The smell of freshly brewed coffee permeating the air.

The small cafe was empty par from a few high school kids who had homework to catch up on, and not enough caffeine to aide them in overdue assignments.

“I’m going on break” Taehyung had called over to you, waving you off when you opened your mouth to ask why.

You shut it, simply nodding. If he needed rest then who were you to stop him?

You stare at the door, backs of your legs starting to ache as you lean on the counter, hoping that maybe someone would come and occupy you, even if it were only for a few minutes.

“Y/n!”

And that had you scrambling to the break room, eyes wide with worry as you teeter to a stop before him.

“Is something the matter?” you stare down at Taehyung, who only hums in reply.

“Make me a drink”

“Oh, okay” you nod, biting your bottom lip as you scamper back to the front where you get started on his coffee.

You’d seen him order a flat white while out with friends on more than a few occasions, so you guess he must like those.

“What’s this?” he peers into the cup.

“A flat white” you whisper, fingers fiddling with the pocket of your apron.

He crooks two fingers, motioning for you to bend down to his level. You do so, eyebrows furrowing a little in confusion.

You think you hear it before you feel it, his palm coming in harsh contact with you right cheek.

Tears gather on your waterline, prickly, needle like pain dusting your cheek in red. You have no time to recover before Taehyung grabs your face, nails digging into each cheek as he pulls your face closer to his own.

“You little freak, you really have been following me around, haven’t you?” he laughs, though he didn’t seem all that amused, “I only drink black coffee”

You shake your head, wincing when he digs his finger into your skin harder. And you may have been worried about bleeding if you weren’t so scared of what words were to fall off his tongue like venom.

“Fucking liar” he spits, shoving your face away, quick, like your touch had burnt him.

You take a few steps back, fingers skimming across your cheeks as you stare down at him.

“On your knees” he picks his phone up.

“Huh?” you manage to squeak.

“Are you stupid?”

You shake your head, eyes flitting between his own. Wondering if maybe he was just trying to play a mean joke on you.

“On your knees then”

You do so, dropping to your knees, “Come closer” he motions with his head.

You go to push yourself to stand, only for Taehyung to push at your chest with his foot, “pets crawl”

You nod, head hanging low as your hands touch the floor, humiliated as you sit on your heels beside Taehyung’s chair.

He grabs the back of your hair, yanking your head up so your looking at him. “Open”

Your mouth falls open.

Taehyung picks up the scalding cup of coffee, sadistic smile tugging at his lips as he pours the hot liquid into your mouth, uncaring as it spills over your uniform, staining your clothes; streaking your skin red.

You splutter, pulling away from his tight hold on you, coughing as you wipe around your mouth. Pearly tears mingling with the coffee on your face as you heave a large breath.

“What do we say when sir gives you something?” he asks, condescending.

You snivel, peering up at Taehyung through wet lashes, he frowns down at you. “What do we fucking say?”

“Thank you” you hiccup.

“Thank you, what?”

“Thank you, sir”

“Good girl” he turns back to his phone.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Stop squirming” Taehyung grunts, tugging your hair so your head lays on his thigh.

You think your knees must red with how long you’d been kneeling on the wooden floor, though you think your cheeks must be 10 shades darker as you stay kneeled beside Taehyung as he works on an assignment in the library.

And you can only thank your lucky stars you and Taehyung were the only two sat so far back in the corner where no one could stumble across the two of you. The humiliation of being found, sat at Taehyung’s feet like some sort of pet, sending a lick of arousal down your spine to your pulsating cunt.

Goosebumps prickle at your skin when he cards his fingers through your hair, your arms twitching where you have them held behind your back; per Taehyung’s request.

You feel him tug your head towards his crotch, your lips skimming the fabric of his sweats, grey cotton doing nothing to hide what he has to offer underneath. You grab onto his thigh, delicate fingers digging into the muscle as he pushes your head so your nose brushes over his steadily growing erection.

“What would you do if I made you suck my cock right now?” he asks, humming when your lick your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Anything to please me, right?”

You nod, thighs clenching at the thought of his thick cock in your mouth, you wonder what he would sound like, how rough he’d make you take it. You feel a dribble of arousal leak into your cotton panties, slick fabric brushing against your clit as you squirm in place.

A pitiful whine tumbling from your lips when Taehyung shoves your head away from his crotch.

“Fucking disgusting” he utters, “Do you think you deserve my cock after everything you’ve done? Stupid girl, following me home, watching me and friends. You’re fucking gross, you know that?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry” tears dribble down your cheeks.

And Taehyung feels his cock twitch at the sight of your blotchy face.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

The first time Taehyung takes you to his apartment, you feel your heart swell. How kind he must be if he were to let you have a look into his private life, paintings you assume to be his own hung on the walls, pictures with his parents and vinyl records displayed in book cases from artists you had never heard of.

“On the floor, pet” he reminds you after you’d slipped your shoes from your feet.

You follow, rewarded with a gentle smile from Taehyung, the pretty one he seems to give everyone else but you, until you’re on you’re knees, sat waiting for his next command as you watch him wander into the kitchen. Bag of take-out placed on the table as he takes a seat.

You scamper after him, palms growing redder as you crawl. Making sure to sit beside his chair.

He places a box of chicken in front of you, saying nothing as he rummages through his own dinner.

You make no move to eat, not at all hungry as you’d stolen a few too many sweets from cafe earlier during your shift.

“Eat” Taehyung tells you, nudging your thigh with his socked foot.

“Not hungry” you whisper, Taehyung grunting at that.

“Should still eat something” he bends down, picking up a piece of chicken, “open”

You do as told, watching Taehyung’s face as he feeds you. Hand on your jaw as you chew, thumb tugging your mouth open after you swallow.

“Manners, doll”

“Thank you, sir” you muffle around his fingers as he shoves them a little further into your mouth.

You find yourself sat by Taehyung’s feet a lot after that day.

While he works on assignments. While you work on assignments. While he plays video games, he chucks a cushion in the floor for you to sit on. While he cooks in the kitchen, the simple term “open” seeming to be his favorite.

Open. His fingers are in your mouth. Seeing how far they’ll go before you gag. Humming when you looking up at him through your lashes. Bonus points if you start to cry.

Open. And then there’s food in your mouth. Chewing under his watchful eye before he makes you eat more. Cocky little smirk on his face when you push his hand away. Only to be thrown over his thighs so he can spank your ass red raw for refusing him.

Open. He spits in your mouth, telling you to swallow before giving you a smile as your reward. Meanly tugging at your puffy nipples from where he’d played with them earlier on.

Open. And your mouthing at his cock, some days hard, maybe flaccid but you feel it grow under your lips as he presses your face into his crotch. Never letting you touch, never letting you taste. Only teasing you with what you could have his Taehyung was a little kinder and didn’t thrive off the desperation in your eyes when he makes you kiss his aching erection through his pants.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Taehyung watches as you smile at a customer, a boy your age he supposes, if the pile of books were any indication that he was also a college student. Cheeks round and youthful in a way Taehyung grew out of in his mid teens.

His jaw tightens when that same boy leans against the counter, the cafe an hour from closing; not many people on the streets as the moon makes its appearance. The three of you the only ones left in the coffee shop.

Taehyung wonders if you like the attention. You must do, sweet little smile being directed at a puny college boy that looked like he didn’t know how to please a woman. He looked as though he needed a true woman to please him, to step on his pathetic little cock for him to cum. If only he knew you couldn’t give him that, too reliant on Taehyung for your own pleasure, letting him control you like his own little puppet, your pleasure now his.

He’s sure if he’d finally get his hands on you, all you’d know was his name. But he supposes that wouldn’t be too hard. Your pretty little head always seemed to be filled with thoughts of him.

He wasn’t stupid, far from it. You weren’t all that secret with your cute little crush either. Obvious with your steady growing obsession with him and Taehyung couldn't get enough of it. So much power over someone so consumed with his entire being.

But he liked you that way. He liked the way you listened, not questioning him when he tells you to do something. Not like a few other girls he’d tried to get with, they all held themselves too high to let him humiliate them a little. Too consumed with themselves to heed to his every demand.

But you. A little stupid, but Taehyung couldn’t get enough. Addicted to the way you followed him, a cute little puppy that he’s just starting to have fun with. A cute little puppy who would do anything for his validation and love.

His fingers tap against the table. Your new little admirer having no shame as he tries to get a peek up your skirt as you reach for one of the mugs on the top shelf.

“Y/n” Taehyung drawls, covering his smile with his hand when your attention is fully on him. No longer bothered with the college boy, who seems to wander off to a table as you ignore his blatant attempts at flirting with you.

“Yes?” you ask from behind the counter.

“Coffee”

You scamper off into the back room, Taehyung not bothered with what you were doing, just as long as you weren’t entertaining any one else.

He watches the boy peer up from his phone every so often, gaze trailing after you as you start making Taehyung his drink.

“What’s this?” he motions to the mug when you gently place it on the table, little yellow stars painted over a deep purple sky.

“I bought you a different mug, I thought it was prettier than the cafe’s ones” you rock back and forth, not daring to look at Taehyung’s reaction. Only hoping he liked it, because you thought of him when you’d seen it in the shop window.

“Is that so?” he muses, “Go back now” he motions towards the counter.

You nod, “okay”

Your little college admirer stays until closing, never seeming to work up the courage to ask for your number. That, or he catches Taehyung’s glare each time he dared open his mouth to talk to you.

“Did you like it?” Taehyung stalks towards the counter, eyes narrowing at you as you wipe down one last mug of the day before you close up the shop.

“Pardon?” you blink up at Taehyung, something about the innocent look on your face pissing him off.

“Did you enjoy whoring yourself out to some sad little college boy?” he sneers and you carefully hang the mug back up.

“I wasn’t—“ you shut your mouth at the look on Taehyung’s face. His eyebrows narrowed, gaze scrutinizing you.

His grip is harsh as he grabs your wrists, your hip slamming into the table as he grabs under your arms, lifting you to his side of the counter.

You let out a small squeak, unsteady as he drops you on your feet. Uncaring as he spins you around, pushing you to bend over the counter by your shoulders.

You turn your head to look at Taehyung, a choked groan slipping off your tongue when he pushes your head to the table, cool marble numbing your cheek as you feel him push his pelvis against your ass.

You feel his steadily growing erection rub against your covered core, slick gathering up at your entrance as you start to fantasize what he’ll do now that he’s got you where he wants.

You stay bent over the counter when he flips your work skirt up over your ass, cute pink panties darkened where your arousal seeps into the fabric.

Taehyung run a finger over your covered slit, rubbing over your clit as more slick dribbles out of your hole.

“Fucking soaked. All for me, yeah? You disgusting little girl”

“Please, Taehyung” you whine, thighs clenching around his hand as he continues to rub your weeping pussy over your panties.

“What did you call me?” he sneers, pulling your underwear between your ass cheeks. Delicious friction against your clit sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You expect the slap when it comes, ambrosian pain prickling up your spine, Taehyung’s hand painted red on your skin as he brings his hand down for another harsh slap to your right ass cheek.

“Sorry, sir” you whimper, saline tears cascading down your cheeks like little pearls.

Taehyung unbuttons his work pants, pulling them down along with his boxers until they pool around his ankles. He pushes your panties to the side, running the head of his hard cock through your slit to gather your slick, hand running over his shaft to lube it up with your juices.

Your thighs clench as the head of his cock nudges your clit, Taehyung’s head tipping back as your thighs squeeze around his length.

He kicks your legs apart, hand flat on your back as he lines his cock up with your entrance.

Your mouth falls open as his thick cock head pushes into your entrance, leaving you no time to adjust to his length, he pushes all the way in before pulling back, so close to slipping out of you.

Taehyung’s eyes close, snapping his hips forwards so his thighs smack the back of your own.

A staccato of ‘ah ah ahs’ tumble out your mouth as he continues his onslaught of thrusts, starting to pick up the pace.

“You like that?” he grunts, “who do you belong to?”

His fingers dig into the meat of your hips, little crescent moons marked into your skin to match what hangs in the sky, your only witness as Taehyung fucks you like no one had ever before.

“You” you whimper, “only you”

“That’s my girl”

Taehyung pushes you up the counter, angle of his hips changing so his cock touches that little spot inside of you that causes stars to flicker behind your eye lids. Wet slap of Taehyung’s cock ramming into your sodden cunt borderline pornographic to match your moans.

Taehyung bends over your body, chest meeting your back as he rolls his hips. Rutting into your core as deep as he could go.

Your fingers hold onto the end of the counter, Taehyung’s thrusts so hard they start to push you up the cold surface.

“Open up, baby” he grunts, breath fanning against your ear. Your mouth falls open, whimper tumbling off your lips when he shoves two fingers into your mouth, “suck”

Your tongue dips between his fingers, sucking like you would his cock if he would let you. Your walls clenching around him at the thought of having his precum coat your tongue, how your lips would pull taught at his girth, cockhead nudging the back of your throat as you try to swallow him.

“You’re so fucking tight” he groans, feeling your walls pulsate around his length.

He pull his saliva slick fingers out your mouth, trailing down your body to flick your clit.

“Cum for me, doll” he grunts, cock twitching as your walls clench around his length. Your eyes squeezing shut as you tip over the edge, orgasm wracking through your body as your thighs shake, cum oozing from your hole, lewd squelch as Taehyung continues to snap his hips upwards.

Tears fall down your cheeks, Taehyung’s hand coming to cover your mouth as his thrusts become languid.

“Shut up, people outside might hear you. You stupid girl” he pulls your hair, lifting your head from the counter.

“Inside me. Please cum inside me” you cry, uncaring of the sounds that drip from your tongue, breath shuddery as Taehyung slams his cock as far into you as he can before he paints your walls white.

You feel his cum fill you, the grip you had on the counter loosening as Taehyung continues to thrusts into you, cock slowly softening.

“Too much. Too much” you cry, thighs twitching as his fingers continue to rub tight circles on your sensitive clit.

“Don’t care” he pushes in once more before pulling out.

Your muscles relax, flopping over the counter as Taehyung bends down behind you.

“Push my cum out” he pulls your lips apart, watching as your hole clenches around nothing.

He groans as his seed slips out of you, two of his fingers pushing it back into your sloppy cunt.

His fingers thrust into your hole, hand landing a slap to the back of your thigh when you go to close your legs.

“Good girl” he croons, pulling your panties over your soiled pussy. “open”

Your lips part, tongue rolling out of your mouth as Taehyung lathers it up with a mixture of both of your cum, content smile on his face as he pulls you off the counter, arm around your shoulder as he walks the both of you to the door, ready to close up for the night.

Uncaring of the cum that drips down your thighs in thick rivulets. At least you know you’re his.

[itsjaywalkers]

for the prompt game: ROSEKILLER 57 WITH BOXER AU IVE BEEN WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS MOMENT……….. (also i hope you’re having a fun day off laurie hi hi 🥺🤍)

HI HI SAINTS BELOVED <333 i actually didn't get the day off bc i'm an idiot and i couldn't say no when my coworker asked me to change shifts.. but at least i got home before 10pm which . is unusual for me lmao . and today's shift was actually kinda fun so !!

anyways, hope you're having a lovely day and that u enjoy this silly lil thing <3 first peek into boxer au rosekiller <3 (i went a bit overboard but they've been plaguing my mind and u don't deserve less)

57. "Teach me to fight."

It's been more than half an hour of hitting the punching bag nonstop when Barty finally decides to take a break. It's not even because he's actually tired, despite the sweat he can already feel dripping down his back and his face. It's because his bad shoulder—the right one—dislocated during the last combination he tried, and after Barty puts it back in place, he's gotta wait a little bit before going back to training.

This happens way too often for comfort, but it's not really painful anymore—it never really was, or maybe Barty has simply dealt with much worse. Besides, the longer he ignores it, the more serious it'll get, which means he'll have an excuse to go get another check-up.

His manager already warned him when he first got the injury after that stupid fight with stupid Potter. Barty began to grow restless during recovery time, and then decided his shoulder was fine when it stopped hurting.

Obviously, he was wrong. Except, it only dislocates when he goes too hard, and he's learnt how to put it back in place without issue, so really, technically, he was sort of right. What does his manager know, anyway? As long as Barty continues winning and putting money in that fucker's pocket, there shouldn't be any complaints.

He pulls up his tank top and dries off some of the sweat on his neck and the side of his face, while rolling his shoulder gently, testing the waters before he goes back to punching, when the hairs at his nape begin to stand up.

There's no noise, no sudden sounds. Barty doesn't hear the door opening, or closing, and yet, when he turns around, smirk already pulling at his lips, he isn't surprised to find someone standing right behind him.

"Hey, Rosie," he greets the other man, who blinks at him, completely deadpan. "I didn't know you were still around. Long shift today?"

"Yes, you did," Evan responds, that cool tone of his sending a pleasing chill down Barty's spine. "Know, that is. I'm pretty sure you've got my schedule memorised."

Barty takes a few moments to drop the hem of his shirt, because he notices the way in which Evan's gaze drops to his stomach and stays there for a handful of seconds. His expression doesn't change, there isn't even a flicker of something in his face, but the attention is more than enough for him.

"Well, you left your email open and your laptop in my near vicinity." Barty shrugs, eyes running up and down Evan's body. He's still wearing that sexy white coat of his, the shirt underneath it perfectly buttoned and tucked inside his jeans.

There's barely any skin showing, because Evan is a little weirdo, but there's some ankle peeking, since the pants are ridiculously tight on him and the legs keep riding up slightly.

Honestly, it's like he's doing it on purpose. Barty can't be blamed if he ends up hard under his sweats. He can already feel some blood rushing south just at the sight of that tiny sliver of soft brown skin.

"And you downloaded my rotas?" Evan guesses, tilting his head to the side.

"Nah," Barty says, crossing his arms over his chest, flexing a little. "Didn't have to. I've got a damn good memory. I read over them for a couple of minutes until they stuck."

Evan nods, not fazed in the slightest.

"That's why you only come in when I'm on shift," Evan states, and it's not a question. He doesn't seem surprised, or freaked out, but then again, he barely shows any emotions. Apart from irritation, that is, and that one's reserved for when Barty is being especially pushy. Or especially horny.

"I don't think I've ever seen any of the other nurses a single time in my life," Barty tells him with a chuckle.

"You have," Evan retorts, and his eyes narrow the tiniest bit. Barty feels a pull in his stomach. "You were talking to Betty three weeks ago, after your match against Black. The bad one. You let her check your shoulder."

Barty lets out an incredulous laugh, not sure on where to focus first, going dizzy with how badly he wants this freak of a man.

He's obsessed with the way in which Evan always seems to get the urge to clarify which Black he's talking about, as if it's not obvious, considering only one of them fights. How he's always so precise, never allowing any ambiguity into his sentences. How almost nothing seems to hold his focus apart from his experiments and medicine and his patients' injuries, and yet, here he is, remembering when Barty talked to someone else momentarily.

"Did I?" Barty asks innocently, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his shit-eating grin at bay.

"Yes," Evan responds, a little furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "She was touching you."

"Was she?" The corners of Barty's mouth are twitching so much he's sure he must look like an absolute maniac.

"Yes," Evan repeats, some exasperation slipping into his voice. "She wasn't even doing it right. She kept kneading the muscle in the same place, instead of checking the ligament, and she did this for more than five minutes, even though it takes seconds to find out about a dislocation—"

"Rosie," Barty cuts him off gently, watching, with no little amount of delight, how Evan's frown worsens. "I didn't even know her fucking name. I couldn't give less of a fuck about stupid Betty, or whatever the hell she's called."

Evan blinks slowly. "But you—"

"I was tired and sore after that match, my shoulder was bothering me, and she was there. My manager told her to check my shoulder, just in case I had fucked it up beyond solution, but if I had known you were around she wouldn't have laid a single finger on me."

There's a beat of silence, Evan's dead eyes searching all over Barty's face, assessing and determined. He smirks at him, which results in Evan huffing and looking away.

"Don't do it again," it's what he ends up mumbling, and if Barty didn't know any better, he'd dare to say Evan is close to pouting. "You're my patient."

Barty raises both eyebrows, a deranged smile splitting his face while he perks up like a goddamn dog. "Is that jealousy I'm hearing, Rosie?"

"No," Evan drawls, straightening up. "It's just the truth. You're not my only patient, you know? But if you're getting treated by me, then you're not allowed to see any other nurses."

"Damn, way to make a man feel special," Barty scoffs, but he does actually kind of mean it. Which he's aware might be a bit pathetic, but, well, he'll be whatever the fuck Evan wants him to. "Wasn't interested in seeing any other nurses, anyway."

"Good." Evan nods, almost to himself, and Barty has to make an active effort not to coo. "Are you done training?"

Barty blinks a couple of times, slightly taken aback, both by the sudden change of topic and by Evan entertaining conversation. Normally, talking to the other boy feels like pulling teeth—oh, man, Rosie would fucking love this comparison—which Barty doesn't mind because he finds it incredibly fun. Unless Evan is going on one of his medical rants, and yeah, Barty shouldn't find it as attractive as he does, but it's not like he's ever worked like he's supposed to.

But this? This is new.

"Not really," Barty answers, still feeling off-kilter. He shakes his head, forcibly pulling himself out of his mind. "Why? You wanna join me, Rosie?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

Barty snorts, assuming that it's a joke, even though he's more than aware that Evan doesn't do jokes, because his humour is way too dark, and rarely finds funny what others do. But Evan's expression doesn't change, and Barty nearly chokes on his own spit.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've never been interested in boxing," Barty points out.

"That's a lie. I watch every match," Evan argues, lips pursed.

"Because you're job kind of forces you to."

"Also a lie. I need to be there when I'm on shift, in case they call for me, but I'm not required to actually watch."

"Yeah, but you still do, because your pretty little morbid head goes absolutely feral at the prospect of seeing some blood."

Evan scrunches his nose, as if disgusted.

"You're wrong," Evan lies, expression giving absolutely nothing away. Really, if Barty didn't already know the truth, he'd be inclined to believe him. "It's got nothing to do with that. I like boxing."

Barty huffs, the noise filled with amusement. "Sure you do, Rosie."

"I really do," Evan insists, always so ridiculously stubborn.

"I don't know who you're trying to convince, but—"

"Teach me to fight."

Barty sputters, brows almost reaching his hairline, and he gapes at Evan, who's still staring at him. He seems unaffacted by Barty's dramatics, but then again, he's unaffected by almost everything.

"The fuck?" he manages to spit out at some point.

"Teach me to fight," Evan says again, a lot slower, as if Barty is some kind of idiot. God, he wans to fucking devour him.

Barty isn't sure of what's going on right now. Evan barely interacts with him outside of their appointments, it's always him reaching out, so he doesn't understand what prompted this. What Evan is hoping to achieve.

"Why?"

"I told you, I like boxing."

"Yeah, okay. And the real reason?"

Evan's tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, and it's so, so hard for Barty, not to make a very inappropriate joke.

"I'm testing something," he admits, albeit bedgrugingly.

"Ah, so you want me to be your guinea pig," Barty sighs a bit dreamily. "That sounds more like it."

"Sure," Evan agrees with unsurprising ease. "Will you?"

"All you had to do was ask, Rosie."

They get to work right after that. Barty doesn't even bother with suggesting a change of clothes, because he's aware of how well that'd be received. The fact that Evan chooses to take the white coat off is already more than Barty expected.

He tries to show him how to stand, how to do a basic punch. Evan knows most of the basic theory, mostly due to how often he deals with boxing injuries, but he's absolutely helpless when he has to act it out himself.

It doesn't matter how often Barty corrects him; he keeps slouching, stance all wonky. He lacks strength, and he takes a bit too long to protect his face after doing a jab.

The main issue, though, is his obvious lack of interest.

Evan seems to be distracted by something, too inside his own head, and when Barty is about to point this out, poke some fun at him in hopes of getting Evan to snap, the other man speaks again.

"That's enough," he declares, tone leaving no place for argument. "Let's spar."

Barty chuckles, disbelieving, but then Evan is sending a glare his way, and he raises both hands in mock surrender, giving in immediately.

He'll do pretty much whatever the fuck Evan wants him to, really.

They both get into position, and regardless of how much Barty is holding back, trying to give the other man a chance, is actually kind of laughable, how easily he overcomes him.

One moment they're exchanging soft blows, and the next Barty has Evan pinned to the floor, his legs and arms completely immobilised as Barty grins maniacally from above.

"Happy now, Rosie?" he teases.

Evan presses his mouth in a tight line. "Not quite."

"Oh, really? Because I'm starting to think this was all a ruse to get me on top of you."

Evan rolls his eyes so hard Barty worries they might get stuck inside his skull. "I'm afraid that's more your style. And anyway, I don't think it's wise to understimate your opponent like this."

"It's nothing personal, Rosie, but when victory is already mine, I—"

Barty never gets to finish. Evan raises his head so quickly his brain barely registers it, and then he's sinking his teeth hard where Barty's neck meets his shoulder. Until he breaks skin, until he draws blood, until Barty lets out a pained groan and his body goes slack, more in surprise than actual hurt.

A moment later, their positions are reversed. Evan is straddling him, mouth still attached to his skin, and Barty is lying on the cold ground, dizzy and a little bit breathless.

He doesn't know how long they stay like this—definitely not enough—but after a while, Evan lets go and sits up a little, lips stained red. It's dripping down his chin, and when he parts his mouth a little, panting softly, Barty finds out that his teeth are also crimson with blood. With his blood.

Barty groans again.

"You're hard," Evan comments, painfully nonchalant. It's that same casualness he used the first time Barty had an erection during an appointment, after Evan had pulled at the stitches on his leg and stuck his fingers inside Barty's wound.

"Yeah," he breathes out, half-delirious. "Yeah, no shit."

Evan hums, cocking his head to the side, analytical gaze running up and down Barty's body and making him twitch in his pants. The fact that Evan can feel it right under him, between his legs, forces Barty to swallow down a moan.

Barty is about to say something incredibly stupid to maybe, hopefully, alleviate the tension, when Evan leans down once more; this time, slower, more careful.

He's prepared to feel the sting of a bite again, toes curling in excitement, but it never comes. Instead, there's something wet and tentative and soft lapping at the open wound, gathering all the blood there that is still coming out.

It takes Barty a moment to realise it's Evan's tongue.

The knowledge hits Barty like a motherfucking bus. He can't stop a low moan from coming out now, or his hips from thrusting up, searching for something, anything, that Evan might give him.

Surprisingly, and instead of pulling away, the other man makes an odd noise against his skin, and Barty thinks he's imagining it when Evan presses down on him.

He freezes up after that, but only for a second, Evan's licking never stopping. But then Barty moves again, more purposefully, rubbing his erection against the apex of Evan's thighs.

The response is immediate, although definitely unconscious. Evan grinds back experimentally, with no coordination or finesse, dropping another sound into Barty's bleeding wound.

His eyes widen when his brain finally catches up properly, hands coming up to grab at Evan's hips and halt his movements.

"Rosie, are you..." Barty stops, swallows harshly. "Are you turned on right now?"

Evan laps at the blood a few more times before straightening up again, staring down at Barty with unblinking eyes and red all over his face.

"Fuck, are you—?" A laugh, strained and bordering on hysterical. "Are you wet?" He doesn't even need to check to know the answer.

Evans nods, almost imperceptibly. "Apparently so."

He has half a mind to turn them over and fuck Evan into the floor. Until Evan is a whimpering mess. Until he's crying, begging, unable to do anything but fucking take it. Until he's sore, and hurt, and full, but still asking for more. Until he can't say anything else apart from Barty's name, until he's—

"Bloody hell," Barty whispers, shutting his eyes tight and letting out another cackle.

Oh, he's going to die. He's absolutely going to fucking die.