#So I guess I crafted a pretty good AU story

[koqabear]

Lamb To The Slaughter

♫: Gods & Monsters, Lana Del Rey

"An act of kindness goes a long way, your parents told you once; their words stuck with you all your life, your pure heart never failing to follow their philosophy— though, it seems your naive self was left unaware of just how far an act of kindness can go."

wolf hybrid!beomgyu x lamb hybrid!fem!reader x herding dog hybrid!soobin

Genre: smut, hybrid au, angst, porn with the world's smallest amount of plot

Word count: 15.8k

Warnings: barely edited oops, heavy predator/prey themes, injuries/blood, use of scents, scent glands and scenting, mentions of kidnapping and murder, psychological abuse i guess… this fic doesn’t let you forget that they’re hybrids btw, (showcases animal-like behaviors and habits), soogyu are stronger than the mc, obsessiveness, manipulation

Smut Warnings: DUBCON. threesome, mean dom!gyu, soft dom!soobin, sub!mc,inexperienced!mc, pet names (pretty, doll, good girl, etc.) manhandling, marking, subspace, possessiveness, choking kinda, dry humping, praise, praise kink, humiliation, dacryphilia, fingering, exhibitionism/voyeurism, degrading, orgasm control, dumbification, finger sucking, cum eating(?), spanking, begging, mind breaking, unprotected sex, jerking off ig, jealousy, hair pulling, rough sex, corruption kink maybe, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration… brief mentions of breeding, creampies, knotting, claiming, mc blacks out. (lmk if i should add anything.)

Notes: look at these stupidly long paragraphs of warnings oh im gonna kms. this story almost had me plucking my hairs out one by one, i’ve never been so stressed out by a pwp before. it was originally an ot5 au and was supposed to come out during october but… yk. shit happens. (i saw a post that changed the entire trajectory of this fic)

[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]

The forest at the edge of the village is something that should’ve been closed off long ago— but there’s no resources, no men to work on the border, no money— so the townspeople have resorted to old myths and tales to ward off wandering children and defenseless women instead.

There’s a killer in the forest— fairies will lead you down the wrong path and trap you in the woods forever; there’s a hidden pond so deep that if you fall in, you’ll sink forever. Typical tales that are told around the bonfire, where people cower and whisper from the thrill of the stories. Yet with each varied warning, one thing stays the same.  

There are wolves in the forest.

Large and strong and invincible, with a terrifying bloodlust and noses so keen they could spot you the moment you cross the barrier; tearing you to shreds, eating you alive and forcing you to feel the pain all throughout it. The wolves are always hungry, insatiable, and lurking about for its next prey— anyone who would enter the woods willingly would be deemed suicidal. 

You’ve never been one to believe such tales; how could you, when you’ve grown alongside the forest?

There are wolves in the forest, that much you’re sure of— but the fantastical tales and myths are nothing but a farce, crafted from the fear of the unknown and the dark, entangled landscape that lies past the backyard of your small cottage; belonging to your deceased parents, now left to fend on your own and care for the gardens and lush plants your mother had carefully cultivated since you were a child. 

She taught you everything you needed to know about the forest; which paths to take, which areas led to steep cliffs or poison ivy, and where to find herbs and plants that would aid to the medicinal business your family ran— you were fascinated by the craft, even as a young child, learning with eager eyes and an even more eager mind as you stored all the information in your small, worn down journal; the pink material of the cover faded and torn at the corners, filled to the brim yet still useful to you as you took it with you on every trip.  

Tonight, you pull on a warm coat dress; it’s thick and durable, a cute piece gifted on your birthday by the baker’s son, the border collie family always making sure to look after you since the day you were left on your own. The shawl sewed into the coat hangs over your shoulders like a small cape, adding in extra warmth as you look out the window and onto the cold scenery; the leaves have begun to abandon the trees, and if you hadn’t memorized the forest layout like the back of your hand, the covered paths might’ve concerned you— but you’re confident as always, grabbing your wicker basket and perching it on the crook of your elbow, glancing down to make sure your journal is already inside— and with one last mental check to make sure you have everything you need, you slip on your boots and make your way outside. 

“Soobin,” you say in surprise, swinging the door open, getting scared at the sight of someone already waiting for you outside— the said man only smiles at the sound of his name, laughing fondly at the way you press a gentle hand against your startled heart; his ears perk up at the sight of you and his black hair is slightly disheveled, though you guess it’s probably from his habit of running a hand through it whenever he’s restless— he holds a basket of his own, and your eyes fall onto it with a curiosity you don’t bother to hide.

“Hello pretty,” he smiles softly, the nickname never failing to make a heat flush up the back of your neck— you really hope he doesn’t notice your flushed expression, his eyes narrowing with fondness as he brings his basket up, opening it to show you the contents, “I made an extra batch of bread, and I thought you’d like some. Business will get busy for us both soon, and I’d hate for you to get hungry because you don’t have time to eat.”

He’s sweet and caring, and it never fails to leave your knees weak— he looks at you with nothing short of affection, raising a brow in curiosity and glancing down at your already occupied arm— his brows furrow, biting his lip in thought as he finally pieces everything together. 

“Are you going to the woods?” he asks softly, reaching past you and into the doorway, placing the basket of bread on the table next to the door— his hands are immediately coming up to your shoulders, smoothing out the soft material of the coat with narrowed eyes— and they’re filled with worry again, ears angling down and tail swaying slowly from side to side, searching your face that can’t seem to lie to him, “It’s dangerous to go at this hour, you shouldn’t.”

“It’ll only be dangerous if you continue to stall me,” you tease, shrugging his hands off and wrapping your own around his elbow, tugging him until you’re both stepping out of your home; he allows you to, and you’re locking it up with ease, even as he continues to tell you not to, to go another day, another time— you huff, shaking your head and frowning at the way he begins to offer to come with you; his instincts must be kicking in again, eyes filled with a calculated look he only sports when looking out for your safety— and with you being nothing but a fragile little lamb in his eyes, this look was something you’ve become very familiar with. 

“No, you mustn’t come with— it’s dangerous, and I’m the only one who knows my way around the woods,” you scold him, and even though he stares at you with that intimidating, stern look, murmuring about something about his keen senses, you stand your ground, “I’m too one-track-minded to guide someone else through these woods— I’d hate for you to get hurt because of me.”

He sighs— and you know you’ve gotten him good by the way he remains silent, stalling his leave as he tries continuing to reason with you— but you keep refusing in return, cooing softly that you’ll be okay, that you’ll be quick. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he finally says, refusing to back down even as you express your worry; after a moment of bickering, you finally give in. Your eyes widen in surprise as he gently pulls you in for a hug, engulfed entirely in his embrace as he rests his chin on your shoulder, inhaling your scent with a content sigh— warm, comforting and pure, like jasmine with the hint of a pure, soft vanilla, his nose subconsciously poking at your gland in search for more— and you shiver at the feeling, engulfed in his calming scent, a sage and rich pine, allowing yourself to melt in his arms and hold you tighter, ignoring the way your heart begins to race the longer your remain there. 

“Come back to me safe.”

Soobin is just as solemn and loyal as he was the day he declared that he would always protect you— and it makes your heart race a bit faster, a dopey smile stuck on your face as you wave him goodbye— you sigh pathetically the moment you’re finally in the woods.

The leaves crunch under your feet and birds chirp in the distance; it’s comforting to you, humming softly to yourself as you walk the paths you need to take without much of a thought, gathering herbs and plants as you slowly check them off your list; everything goes as smoothly as it always does, your mind in awe as you witness the sun beginning to set. 

You should get going soon; it was never ideal to be in the woods after dark, no matter how familiar you were with the landscape. The thought makes your steps quicken and your eyes sweep over the land in acute concentration, looking for the last plant on your list— you’re freezing entirely when you hear a shift against the leaves. 

You’re still; was it a false alarm, or a harmless rabbit passing by? You’re not entirely sure, wicker basket heavy in your hand as the other presses firmly against your heart; trying to settle your heart rate, breathing deeply as you look for any signs of movement, any signs of life around you. 

Just when you think the coast is clear, you hear it again; rustling against the leaves, harsh and erratic as something else greets your ears— sharp pants and sounds of struggle, a pained yelp resounding into the vast space and sending you into action before you can think twice. 

You round the thick oak tree ahead of you, searching for the source of the sound— and stumble back in surprise, an involuntary gasp escaping you as sharp eyes and equally sharp teeth point your way— a man lays before you, injured and weak.

Except, he’s not just a man; that much is made clear to you the moment your eyes sweep over his frame once more, taking in the ears that press flat on his head and his fangs that remain bared at you, the injured man—wolf hybrid— growling lowly at you and shuffling back to curl against the thick tree that once covered him; your hands shake as you hold onto your basket a little tighter, wide eyes sweeping over his figure and inevitably landing on the source of all this commotion; a twisted ankle, rendering the man before you immobile. 

You must run— you must, and it’s all your instincts seem to yell at you, your muscles becoming rigid with tension, white ears pressing flat against the top of your head and fluffy tail quivering with fear— but you have yet to, something about the look in the wolf’s eyes making you ignore your instincts, just for a second; behind the dangerous fangs that glint beneath the remaining light and his eyes that are narrowed threateningly, you can still see the pain he’s found himself in.

Something inside you clicks— your weak heart twists and your hands grip your basket a bit tighter, a voice in your mind telling you that you can’t just leave him like this; you can do something to help. Next thing you know, you’re taking cautious, slow steps toward him, hands held out to show that you’re nothing close to a threat— though you’re sure that the smell of fear that rolls off you in waves is enough of an indicator— and your soft voice is whispering out your intentions, continuing your approach even as he bares his teeth at you in warning. 

“I want to help you,” you say softly, finally at his feet as you place your basket gently next to him; and he growls at you once more, though you don’t find yourself to be afraid— if he were dangerous, he would’ve attacked long ago. It’s the only thought that repeats itself in your mind like a prayer, pretending as though your hands don’t tremble as you reach into your basket, as you grab the herbs you were just stocking up on and the bandages you carry for emergencies. 

He lets out a particularly harsh growl that makes you jump; it makes you hesitate to touch his skin, bruised and broken and bloody, eyes jumping to meet his— and though the action was meant to be confident, nothing can hide the fear that taints your eyes, the way your frame shrinks slightly when you’ve found that he has no issues holding eye contact— and after a standstill moment, you finally continue, ripping a piece of the bandage and attempting to clean the wound as best as you can. 

You’re a bit clumsy at first; unable to look away from the man, his strikingly dark red hair that's matted to his head from a thin layer of sweat, dirtied clothes and face that’s twisted in a mean glare— but eventually, it softens, the deep heaving of his chest calming as he watches the way you tend to him with deft hands, not seeming to care if he’s soiling your pretty coat as you tug him closer to you. 

The bandages are tight on his ankle and you’ve placed herbs within to help soothe the swelling— all tricks you’ve learned from your mother, from the times when you would run about carelessly and twist your ankle in some hidden hole, only calming your cries to see her work her magic on you.

Reassuring words don’t do much in the grand scheme of things, but you still whisper them sweetly to the injured man before you, dry bandage cleaning along the rest of his calf as you tell him to rest, to try and not overexert himself. And though you don’t know if he can understand you, though you’re unsure of where he came from— because as far as you know, wolves have been banished from your village for decades— you still find yourself caring for him. It’s something he can pick up on in your eyes, gentle and reflecting the last of the sun’s golden rays that leak through the woods. 

It’s quiet; it’s peaceful. Warm fingers lingering on his skin much longer than you intended, a curiosity leaking through your wide eyes as you take in his figure, the tall dark ears that stand on his head, the tail that lays on his side, thumping rhythmically— and you think you’ve finally found the courage to ask who are you? Lips parting to speak, you’re cut off by the sound of rustling, a new overwhelming scent overtaking your senses; something is approaching. 

The man before you doesn’t seem to be worried; it’s you that’s whipping around to the source of the sound, shrinking pathetically once you spot something emerging from the dark, thick mass of trees behind you; eyes, multiple pairs, glowing and angry as they stare at you like you’re their next meal— you’re not sure how many pairs there might be, but you’re stumbling to your feet quickly, eyes widening as you realize that the sun has set long, long ago.

You almost slip on the leaves beneath you; one last glance at the man behind you shows that his hands were out as though to catch you, expression twisted with what you’re surprised to see is… concern. But as a rough growling begins to surround the two of you, a sharp pang of fear courses through your body, the gravity of your situation finally sinking in as your eyes sweep around the area in one last, terrified glance.

They’re targeting you.

Before you can think twice, you’re turning on your heel and running— though nothing follows behind, you still let adrenaline take its course, shallow breaths and teary eyes guiding you back to your home; you don’t realize how crazed you must’ve looked until you’re finally reaching your front door, a worried Soobin immediately interrupting your flee and scooping you into his arms, whirling around to shield you away from the forest.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Dear, what happened?” he’s breathing out the concerned questions against the crown of your head, arms wrapped tightly around your middle and the only thing keeping you up as your knees buckle with fear; his gaze sweeps down to the state of your cute coat, the once pristine and pink material now dirty and bloodied; his hands hold onto it with a newfound panic, lifting the coat and attempting to find the source— it isn’t until you’ve let out a few pathetic sniffles that you can finally reassure him the blood is not yours.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen to you? Oh, I should’ve—” Soobin has pulled away to cup your face in his hands, wiping away the tears that escape your sweet eyes like a fountain; thumbs caressing your tear-streaked skin lovingly, brows knitted together as his concern pours off him in waves— and you shake your head softly, attempting to dissuade the guilt he must’ve felt for leaving you on your own. 

“It’s fine, I’m not hurt,” you croak out, grabbing onto his waist for support as you finally regain the strength in your legs, “I just— had some encounters with a wolf— but I’m safe, they didn’t hurt me, I’m just a bit shaken, is all.”

“A wolf?” Soobin asks, much more concerned by your words as he pulls away to inspect you once more; his hands run gingerly over your shoulders, running along them until they’ve stopped at your neck, eyes honing in on the spot for a moment before he sighs in relief. His gaze is hardening once more, cupping your face and looking at your sternly as he speaks. “Where were they? Did they follow you? Did you interact with them?”

“No, no— it’s alright, I’m alright, I promise,” you breathe out, hoping that Soobin doesn’t notice the way you shrink under his gaze, the way your body warms up at his touch— but he’s much too concerned about your safety to pick up on it, dismissing every cue of your body as nothing but fear, instincts heightened as he looks behind you and back at the forest you just came from. He watches the woods carefully, eyes narrowed and ears perked in concentration— but nothing happens, and he’s left to reluctantly believe your words, even if he wants nothing more than to run into the woods himself and make sure there’s no threat to you. 

After a moment of observing the forest, Soobin is turning back to you, and his gaze immediately softens at the sight. The brave front you put up isn’t fooling him, and it’s quite obvious that you’re still shaken from your encounter, delicate ears still pressed close to your head, eyes wide and scent muddled with distress— like rotten flowers, earthy and pungent— and with all the adrenaline ebbing away from your system, you’ve found that your legs have become pure jelly once more; Soobin is quick to catch on to the way you tremble and hold on to him tightly. 

“Oh, my doll,” Soobin sighs softly, fishing for your keys in your coat pockets and unlocking the door for you, leading you inside with a careful hand— as though you were made of porcelain, still shaken and anxious as he leads you to sit down, “it’s alright, you’re safe now— I’ll keep you safe.”

Soobin insists on taking care of you long after you tell him you feel better; he’s keen to protect you through and through, keeping his distance yet still doting on you as he makes you tea, helps you out of your coat, and even offers to wash it for you— the sight replaces the heavy fear in your stomach with butterflies. 

When he bids you goodbye, his eyes are soft, his movements slightly reluctant— but he must, it’s unlawful for him to stay the night with you; an unclaimed little prey like you, spending the night with Soobin, even if he was nothing short of perfect and kind, was enough to have the town gossiping like a storm. The very thought has your cheeks hot and your tongue stumbling on words, telling Soobin to get home safe with a shy, sweet voice— and he brushes his thumb against your cheekbones, smiling fondly before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead; he lingers there, and you think you might just melt against him before he finally bids you goodbye. 

Your heart still races long after he’s gone; you suppose all this makes up for the fact that you forgot your basket in the woods, mourning the fact that you’ll have to go back to get it tomorrow— but for now, you’re content with giggling softly at the memory of Soobin’s lips against your skin, completely unaware of the eyes that watch you twirl around your kitchen happily.

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

When you wake up, you find something peculiar at your doorstep; your wicker basket is placed before your feet, pristine as it was when you first took it out. 

Your brows furrow, looking around the area and wondering how it got here— your mind is going back to the wolf you tended to, eyes slowly sweeping over the dense forest, ears twitching in attention, listening for even the slightest rustle of leaves, wondering if he’s still lingering— but the world around you is still, and it seems to be only you here. You bend down to pick the basket up carefully. 

Everything is intact— your herbs, your bandages, your worn down pink journal— and the closer you bring it to your face in order to inspect it, the better you’re able to catch something peculiar; a scent, your nose twitching in curiosity and your eyes narrowing. The unknown scent only grows stronger the closer you get to the handkerchief you used to line the inside, and only then are you able to get a good sense of it— light and heady, like an amber and smoky smell filling your nose, finding yourself oddly enticed by the scent. 

You’re far too wrapped up in attempting to decipher the complicated notes of this new scent to notice someone approaching; your senses have gotten so used to Soobin’s presence you no longer find yourself alert around him, only perking up at the approaching sound of leaves crunching and the familiar, sage filling your senses— tucking the basket behind your back, you send him a meek smile, cheeks heating up as you silently hope he didn’t see you curiously nosing at your basket. 

“Hey, pretty thing,” Soobin rumbles out lowly, smiling fondly at the way you practically preen at the name; you’re terrible at hiding your expression, the way your ears twitch at his words not helping your attempts to seem nonchalant before him. 

“Hi Soobin,” you smile, fingers restlessly playing with the wicker basket behind your back as you tilt your head curiously, “what’re you doing here today?”

“I needed to check on you,” he says immediately, a soft oh leaving your lips at that, “I couldn’t sleep well knowing I just… left you here on your own. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

“Soobin, it’s fine, really,” you reassure him softly, fluffy tail wiggling behind you at the fact that he confessed how worried he was about you, his dedication to keep you safe, “Nothing happened— as long as I’m in my home, I’m safe.”

Soobin wants to argue against that, you can tell. But you don’t give him a chance to, inviting him in with a tug at his arm, smiling at the way he immediately relents; you tell him about your plans for today over a cup of tea, that you have to make a few deliveries to some homes across the village— Soobin practically jumps to offer to come with. 

“You– won’t you be busy?” you ask shyly, staring down at your teacup and stirring your spoon in  a feeble way to distract yourself. 

“No, I’m not needed at the bakery today,” Soobin immediately reassures you, reaching over the table to place a delicate hand over your own— and you stiffen, a heat rushing through your body at the sudden contact; the smell of sage wafts over to you as his thumb rubs soothingly over your skin, your mind mulling over his offer as you bite at your lip in thought. 

He’s eager to hear you say yes; his tail wags slowly behind him, ears perked up and eyes honed in on your every expression— and after a moment, you finally nod meekly. 

“It’s only a house or two, but the walk is… it’s far,” you say, standing at the doorway and reaching over for your basket, placing the bottles and jars filled with homemade remedies inside carefully— but before you can continue your explanations and tuck your basket snuggly into the crook of your arm, Soobin is taking it from you, his brows knitted together as he stares down at the item in confusion. 

“I thought you lost this,” he says quietly, rotating the item in his hands, taking in its pristine condition with a frown— his ears are perking up and his tail is straightening, head whipping over to you with wide, concerned eyes. “Did you go into the woods to retrieve it?”

“No!” you say, oddly defensive as you shake your head adamantly, “It just— it was at my doorstep this morning, I think someone might have found it—”

“The wolf,” Soobin sneers, his tone much darker than it was mere moments ago— it makes your ears flatten against your head and your figure shrink, his scent turning earthy and thick and rendering you docious and pliant— his eyes are darting from the basket and back to you, only to go back to the basket in order to examine it closely; the moment Soobin brings it closer to his face, you’re able to see the very moment where that same, smoky scent enters his senses— his pupils dilate, and his nose twitches. 

The same scent as before. Soobin recognized it as the same scent that you were drenched in the moment you found him, shaken and face aghast— your coat and skin reeked of nothing but that scent, wanting nothing more than to take you inside and replace it with his own— but the most he could do in the moment was hold you close and hope that it would wash off. 

The owner of this scent must have brought you the basket back; Soobin’s head races to find meaning, to find reason, adrenaline coursing through his body that yells at him to take action; this must be a threat—you’ve been followed, they know where you live.

“It isn’t safe for you to stay there anymore,” Soobin proceeded to tell you, only confessing how he felt once you were far, far away from your home— from the woods. And you could only shake your head at that, the reassurances an automatic response in your head at this point. 

But Soobin wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time; knowing that the wolf was out there somewhere, that he knew where you lived and even went as far as to visit your home— it made Soobin tense with anger. 

“That wolf was at your doorstep without you knowing,” Soobin continued to reason, all throughout your walk back, “you don’t know who they are— what their intentions are.” 

It was only then that you decided to mull through his offer to stay, or for you to stay with his family— images of a bloodthirsty wolf at your doorstep filled your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel like your nine year old self again, sitting at a fireplace and telling each other scary stories about the forest only a few feet away from you— your young self would always be left shaken and paranoid, asking your parents if you could sleep in their bed. 

Maybe you’ve become too used to being independent; you’ve survived this long on your own— most lamb hybrids you knew couldn’t walk around at night without having a trusted predator around to protect them, just in case— yet you were so used to depending only on yourself that you seem to have forgotten how truly vulnerable your species is; Soobin made sure to remind you with a stern look and crossed arms. 

“I don’t see why you’re insisting so much, binnie— I promise nothing happens here, this place is dead,” you tell him as you make dinner for the two of you, the sun now long gone and the man still stuck to your side, leaning against the counter beside you and watching you cook dutifully— his eyes drift over to the window behind him, looking over his shoulder and at the dark, gloomy forest that obscures his view; his eyes can’t help but narrow and pick apart each shape he sees, nose keen and eager to sense any changes, any hint of that smoky smell— but he sees nothing, and he’s turning back around to catch the way you send him a slightly incredulous look. 

“I understand why you might feel this way— you’ve been on your own for longer than you can remember, after all,” Soobin says softly, taking in the way your eyes remain downcast and you shy away from his gaze. Hesitantly, he shifts to stand behind you, a gentle hand placing itself on your bicep before his head lowers to rest on your shoulder; his forehead rests against you, able to smell the restless, flowery notes of your scent— despite the strong front you put up, Soobin’s keen senses are still able to pick up on the tenseness of your body, the way you keep glancing out the window and into the forest unsurely. 

“You have to allow yourself to be helped— there’s nothing wrong with that, doll,” he coaxes softly, ears atop his head twitching at the sound of the shaky sigh you let out— the stove is turned off, and the food is done— but you don’t seem to care about that much. 

Carefully, Soobin nudges at your jaw with his head; allowing your neck to tilt slowly, to expose it to him as his nose runs along your skin delicately, until it’s pressed against your scent gland, inhaling slowly and taking in the intense mix of smells and emotions within you— and he presses his lips softly against it, a gentle kiss that turns your scent sweet and fresh like a blooming flower; your heart pounds against your chest for a second, then proceeds to relax against Soobin’s hold the moment his scent invades your senses. 

“I’m here to protect you.” 

His words stick to you for the rest of the night— as does he, his presence reassuring enough to make you forget of why he was here in the first place— enough to allow you to miss the glowing eyes that peek from the edge of the forest as you get a glass of water in the middle of the night, taking in your drowsy figure and eyes that are heavy with sleep; unaware of the pair of eyes that take you in hungrily, the tongue that runs along a sharp set of teeth, nose twitching to get another gust of your sweet, clean scent, the muddled vanilla that makes his mouth water. 

With Soobin lying in the guest bedroom, you’re almost able to forget that there are wolves in the forest. That there is one that has now set his sights on the cute little lamb that tended to him with wide eyes and an innocent heart. 

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

It’s early in the morning when you bid Soobin goodbye; your cheeks are flushed and you’re barely able to look him in the eye, despite not having done anything more than talk the whole night. He finds your shyness nothing short of endearing, placing one last affectionate kiss on top of your head before he tells you to call him if you ever need anything— to never be afraid to ask for help. You nodded to his words with a soft smile. 

Watching him leave had left a bit of an empty feeling in your heart; you couldn’t seem to help but watch him leave pathetically, standing at your doorway even after he had long gone; his scent still drifted around in your senses, the warm and sturdy scent helping you remain calm as you finally went back inside— closing the door behind you, you were pleasantly surprised to see that your home still smelled strongly of him. 

You had over ten different orders you needed to work on; you were able to busy yourself with making medicine throughout the rest of the day, boiling herbs and making remedies for colds and illnesses and burns. It was a tedious and slow process, and as you finally began to reach the end of your list, you couldn’t help but frown. 

You ran out of two different herbs needed for these next three orders; without them, you wouldn’t be able to make the medications at all. 

Glancing out the window, you gulped; it wouldn’t be another thirty minutes before the sun set, but after your encounter a few days ago— paired with Soobin’s warning and harsh reality check— you were much more hesitant to go into the woods on your own. 

You could call Soobin— ask him if he’d like to accompany you, stay put until you finally had proper protection. You mulled over the idea for a moment, your traitorous mind whisperering encouraging words in order to see him again; it’s just for protection, you told yourself, walking over to your landline phone before you began to dial his number, tangling the long cord around your fingers absentmindedly as you did; you tried to dismiss the nervous pounding of your heart, the way you bit at your lips in anticipation of hearing his voice again.

“Hello?” you’re gulping slightly at the sound— part of you wasn’t expecting him to actually answer. Clearing your throat softly, you muster up the courage to do what you’ve been hesitant to for so long. 

“Hi Soobin,” you start softly, listening to the small hum of acknowledgement from the other side, “I— I’m sorry to bother, but I just wanted to ask; I have to make another trip to the forest— it’s urgent— and I… well, I was wondering if you’d be able to accompany me. For protection.” 

The shyness and hesitance in your voice is horribly apparent; it makes you face burn and your hands grow clammy, feeling as though there’s a lump in your throat as you wait for him to respond— it feels like eternity, but in reality, it’s merely seconds—- and you’re practically slumping against the wall in relief when he gives you a soft of course I can in response.

“Wait for me inside until I get there,” he says, and you nod, letting out a sound of affirmation as well, “I’ll be quick.” 

Soobin hangs up promptly after; you’re left to scurry around your home in preparation of your trip, changing out of your sullied work clothes and into something more comfortable— inevitably, the same coat from before finds itself wrapped around your form, and as you wait by the doorway with your wicker basket in hand, you realize with a smile that the item is practically drowned in Soobin’s scent— the item is wrapped around you tighter and your nose is burrowed deeply into the soft plush-like material, your senses spinning with the warm, earthy smells that belong to the man. 

The sun is setting— but he’ll be here soon, a fact only proved by the sound of footsteps your keen ears manage to pick up on; you’re practically racing to make it to your front door, only to pause at the sound of something else— more footsteps. 

Instinct brings your body to the floor and away from all windows; your back is pressed up against your door, ear pressed tightly against the wood as you remain alert, subconsciously holding your breath in fear of getting spotted in any way— but whoever is currently surrounding your home knows you’re here, judging by the way they take careful, calculated steps closer to your door— you will your heart to remain calm, to not alert them that you currently lean on the very item separating the two of you, but the fear that courses through your veins is simply too strong. 

Your mind is racing a mile a minute; you try to calculate who it could be, why they’re here— and you’re thinking back to Soobin’s warnings the night before, eyes widening as you scold yourself for being such a naive idiot— because as you pick up of the soft sounds of sniffing and low growls, you realize that you’ve managed to lead a pack of wolves right to your home. 

It all happens too quickly; you’re running from the door at the sudden spike of scents, like a dirty smoke that approaches your door in the blink of an eye— the wood practically flies off its hinges with the way it’s broken into, a scream involuntarily leaving you as you grab the nearest thing to you as a weapon— the fire pit poker is thin and old in your hands, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you back away slowly, taking in the wolves that make their way into your home with sheer terror. 

One, two, three— it’s only three of them, but it’s enough to have your limbs trembling and your ears pressed flat against your head; tall, broad figures, disheveled in appearance and looking at you with eyes dilated, filled with nothing but a carnal hunger that makes your stomach twist into knots. 

It’s a standstill. They watch you with coy smiles and blown out eyes, watching as you press yourself against the wall, wondering if you can make it to the back exit of your home if you try enough— but they’re perceptive to even the most miniscule movement, every twitch of your muscle garnering a step closer from any one of them; you remain still, and so do they. It’s silent, save for the ragged heavings of your chest and the low grumbles that resonate from theirs— they have yet to make a move, locking eyes with the tallest and watching as his lips quirk into a smile.

You feel nauseous. They’re toying with you.

They could easily take you— kill you— in a split second; the second you try to run, they’ll be hot on your heels, outmatched three to one and left at their mercy entirely. And judging by the way they practically salivate at the smell of fear that radiates from you, you don’t think your fate with them will end well.

You gulp. They watch you, keen eyes taking in the way your throat bobs, the tears that fill your eyes— the way your legs look as though they’ll give out on you any moment now, the flimsy poker in your hands nothing but a joke as you point it at them in warning— as though it would do anything, they muse. 

One of them, with a head of ginger hair and eyes sharp as a knife, begins to approach; you tense, bringing the poker forward more, inhaling sharply and taking a step back— but that only garners a sharp growl from another, with pitch black hair and a gaze so threatening it renders you pliant; hesitantly, you meet the eyes of the man who stands before you, narrowed eyes taking you in with amusement. 

He reaches towards you— again you tense, flinching at the movement and weakly yelling at the wolf to stay back—! But it can only come out as a breathless whisper, your entire being rendered useless, instincts doing nothing but telling you that this is it; accept your fate, it tells you, weakening your muscles and sending off waves of fear so thick the room reeks of death and rot; your figure shrinks the moment he grabs your poker, ignoring your clearly empty warning as he lowers it forcefully, fighting easily against any strength you had left. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he smiles, baring his teeth that only makes your blood run cold— sharp canines, strong and in great condition to bite and chew even the toughest of meats— “We’ll take good care of you.”

A sharp growling impedes the man before you from closing in on you, from taking away what little space was left between you— the sound is loud and furious, making the three wolves before you turn immediately in search of the source; including you, the foreign sound making your knees buckle and the poker fall from your hands as you paralyze with fear. 

Standing in the doorway is a figure you remember quite well— the sight of him makes your eyes widen and you heart flicker a dim light of hope, watching the way he sends the three wolves before you a pointed glare, enough to make the two nearest to him avert their eyes the moment his gaze lands on them. 

“Beomgyu,” the wolf near you sneers, “what the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother answering the question; his eyes land on you, on your figure that visibly trembles with fear, nostrils flaring at the scent that radiates from you and fogs the room— and he growls. 

“Get out.” 

It’s a simple command given by the man— Beomgyu—  to the others, eyes filled with an unbridled rage that makes the others flinch; they’re confused, glancing to where you remain frozen before they’re turning back at the man, as though waiting for him to back down on his words— instead, he bares his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed with rage, and repeats himself. 

“I said, get. Out.”

Silence; you can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you watch the two wolves glance at the man with the bright head of ginger hair— as though looking to him for their next move. The two remain in a standstill, refusing to look away from the other, as though silently communicating. And after what feels like eternity, the wolf near you scoffs, lips upturned in annoyance as he finally looks away— he turns back to you, eyes scanning your shaken figure, and he smiles the moment your eyes meet.

“Don’t expect any mercy from him.”

You’re sure you might be on the verge of fainting as you watch them all exit, one by one; tails practically tucked between their legs, only wolf to make a fuss being the orange-haired one from before; you watch the two of them bare their teeth and make comments you can’t quite pick up on, pressing yourself firmly against the wall and jumping the moment they snap warningly at each other— a threat to bite, the sight of their sharp fangs enough to have you retreating slowly to the exit of your backyard. 

The second his back is turned from you, watching the wolves retreat to the forest, is the second you make an attempt to escape— hurried steps leading you to the kitchen, walking backwards in order to keep an eye on him— your shaking hands remain pressed against the wall in an attempt to keep yourself upright, keen eyesight taking in any small movement from him, body alight with adrenaline as you wait for the moment you can book it. 

His ears, a dark auburn just like his hair, twitch; his head snaps over to where you stand, dilated eyes meeting yours in milliseconds. 

You’re turning around to make a run for it— the floorboards creak behind you from the very sound of Beomgyu running after you, a yelp leaving you involuntarily; your feet are falling harshly on the cool tile of your kitchen, but before you can so much as outstretch your hand and reach for the doorknob of the back exit, strong hands are wrapping around your middle and spinning you around, away from your last taste of freedom. 

“Please!” you cry out aimlessly, a pained groan falling from your lips as your back collides with the wood of your counter; you’re pinned into the very corner, tears pricking at your eyes and weak hands pressing against the strong chest of the wolf before you— your eyes remain glued to the floor, soft tail trembling with abandon and ears willing hopelessly to hide your face. 

“You’re running? After I just saved you?” is all you get in response, his voice gruff and genuine as he remains unfazed at the weak pushes against his chest; his arms cage you in, body impossibly close to yours as he looms over you, watching the way you cower and make yourself shrink with wide, interested eyes. “Why do you run from me, my flower?” 

The pet name makes your stomach lurch; a soft sob escapes you, eyes closing in defeat as your mind makes peace with your demise— your shoulders shake with every attempt of yours to breathe properly, every inhale only flooding your senses and clogging your mind with the scent of the wolf above you, like a thick smoke that burns your lungs and leaves your thoughts impaired.

Beomgyu is all but salivating at the sight of you; your soft, fragile body, the tremble of your limbs, your pure and fluffy ears that are pressed flat atop your head, hands subconsciously gripping onto his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep yourself upright— your heartbeat overwhelms him, quick and panicked just like your scent; it makes his brows pinch together and a confused pout form on his lips, the familiar, delicate flower no longer radiating from your figure.

“Are you scared of me?” he murmurs, ears twitching in curiosity as you remain silent; he leans down, willing to get close even after you continue to shrink away in response, curling into yourself and keeping your chin tucked in dutifully; his hand flies to your waist in attempts to prevent you from shifting away any further, rough claws digging in through your dress and making you jolt in surprise— a shaky breath leaves your lips, the wolf that continues to inch closer to you, cocking his head in fascination. His eyes all but burn through your skin. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple as he speaks; you remain frozen, stiff, feeling the way he continues to wander down, nosing at you softly in search for a sign of that sweet, intoxicating smell you once gave off. 

“You’re safe with me— remember?”

Your voice remains stuck inside you— all you can muster is another shaky breath as you feel his lips brush against your jaw, wandering along until he’s at your ear— then he trails down, forcing your head to tilt as his nose runs a soft line along the column; a weak whimper falls from your parted lips the moment he presses down against your pulse point, feeling him inhale slowly before he presses a soft kiss against your sensitive neck— like an automatic reaction, warmth blooms from the spot, spreading through your body, your heart telling you to calm down— but you refuse, and though Beomgyu is able to smell the sweet vanilla and the flowers that blooms from his action, it all dies into one muddled mess that leaves him to huff frustratedly. 

His hands have begun to wander— large and warm, sharp claws scratching at your garments and running up your sides before he hugs you tight, pressing your figure flush against his— and as have his lips, pressing soft kisses against your scent gland repeatedly, in search of the scent that he was only granted a mere glimpse of— soft, careful kisses at first, listening to the way you whimper and cry against him, trembling hands balling up his shirt in your fists— only to feel himself grow more desperate, out of control, his lips parted and harsh as he presses his kisses against one of the weakest points in your body. 

Beomgyu’s nose is sharp, is able to pick up on even the slightest changes within your scent— so when he picks up on the warm, subtle twinge of vanilla that peeks through everything else, he’s unable to find himself exhibiting restraint. Warm and wet, you feel his tongue press against your skin, the sharp, accidental scratch of his fangs following after— and you gasp, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling above you as your mind finally processes what his intentions truly are, feeling your instincts take over soon after— the moment of clarity passes, and your vision fogs; your body melts against Beomgyu’s.

You’ve been sandwiched between the counter and Beomgyu’s body; even more so now that Beomgyu’s felt you submit to him, head lolling to the side and displaying your most fragile part to him, a smell of vanilla, warm and sweet like a pastry, filling his lugs soon after— you’re presenting yourself to him, eyes glassy and lips parted as you simply let out a shaky exhale. 

Your legs are parted with every attempt Beomgyu makes to get closer to you, feeling him stand in between them as he continues to cage you in, continues to kiss and lick along your exposed skin, huffing and sighing in satisfaction with every soft keen you let out in response, your mind and soul still convinced that your time has come to an end. 

From a distance, Soobin senses it; he sees the dim lights of your cottage, the door that is left ajar, crooked on its hinges— most of all, he’s able to pick up on the intoxicating sweetness that escapes from the cottage, the innocent jasmine that’s intertwined with the scent that travels with the wind— and his ears stand straight, keen senses straining to hear the soft sob that leaves your delicate lips— his body reacts before he can, and he runs straight to you. 

The sharp call of your name is all Soobin can get out before he stumbles to a stop at the kitchen doorway— his eyes remain wide and focused on the sight before him, body on edge and tail stiff as he grits his teeth in rage. 

Your doe eyes meet his instantly— they’re shining and incoherent, and Soobin wonders if you’re even conscious of where you are, of the way you whine out his name in the most fragile tone he’s ever heard. The rest of you is covered— you’ve been pressed tightly against the kitchen counter, back arching backwards due to the sheer pressure of the body that weighs you down; ragged clothing covers your own, the pink coat obscured by a white flowing, dirtied white button up, falling off the owner’s shoulder and pooling at his elbow— Soobin’s eyes follow the line of movement, taking in his arms disappear behind your waist, forcing your lower halves to be glued together, your dress bunched up at your thighs from the crude way they’ve been forced open. 

“Soobin,” you whine again, taking his attention as he watches a hand of yours appear from where they were caged in, outstretching shakily toward him before it falls limp, hanging over the arm that pulls you closer against him. 

Dark, long hair covers the face that is buried in your neck— ears of the same color adorn the top, twitching with interest at the sound before they stand forward— roughly, the head emerges from its hiding place, eyes blown open with nothing short of hunger; the wolf before Soobin bares his teeth and growls, hugging you tighter against him, stepping back and shielding you away from the dog’s view. 

Soobin doesn’t hesitate to mimic the other’s threats— he means every bit of it and more, face alight with rage and body poised in an aggressive stance— and though your face has been tucked into the wolf’s chest, though the arms that wrap around your body attempt to prevent you from being seen at all, Soobin is still able to catch glimpse of your tail that quivers with fear, of your figure that shakes pathetically from instinct. 

Loud, angry growls and spiked scents fill your senses and leaves you docile; Soobin’s sharp, strong pine mixes with Beomgyu’s thick, intoxicating smoke, painting the scene of a burning forest as they continue to warn the other, narrowed gazes and sharp canines creating yet another standstill. 

Beomgyu’s eyes catch onto Soobin’s restlessness with ease— and before he’s able to make a move, Beomgyu is manipulating your body once more, spinning you around and pressing your back firmly against him, feeling the way you follow his every command without a second thought— and when you present yourself to him for a second time from pure instinct, Beomgyu grins; his eyes lock with Soobin’s and his head cranes down, dangerously close to your scent gland that continues to release its tempting smell.

“Stay.” is all Beomgyu growls out, eyeing the way Soobin freezes immediately, wide eyes watching the way Beomgyu’s mouth opens, tongue lolling out lazily before it’s running slowly against your shoulder, gliding along until it stops dutifully against the joint of your neck, pressing down to feel your pulse— Soobin flinches, undoubtedly wanting to lunge forward, but is stopped again by the wicked smile Beomgyu sends him, sharp canines meticulously on display. 

You’re all left frozen— Beomgyu’s arm that has been thrown around your waist toys with the hem of your cute coat, the other that presses against your heart feeling the quick pounding against his palm— and he laughs, inching his hand up slowly until it’s around your neck, his index and thumb exuding little effort to keep your head upright, watching your eyes slowly meet Soobin’s.

“Any sudden moves,” Beomgyu begins again, eyes flickering down to your neck, watching the quick rise and fall of your chest with fascination, feeling the way your throat constricts with every swallow against his palm— and he smiles, looking back at Soobin and allowing his tongue to run over the top row of his teeth leisurely, “and she’s mine to claim.”

Silence; Soobin takes a moment to weigh his options, to inspect the scenery before him— the wolf means it, Soobin is quick to realize, seeing the way he all but drools over your exposed neck and faint figure— and he meets your eyes again, attempting to decipher what you may be thinking, only to realize that you’re not composed at all; you’ve been stripped down to nothing but your basic survival instincts, and yet it seems as though your brain has told you that it’s best to give up any fight you have left inside you.

Soobin feels his jaw ache from the way his teeth grit together angrily— and with a soft huff, he becomes the first to look away from Beomgyu entirely, turning his head in defeat and forcing his body to back down. 

“Good dog,” Beomgyu coos mockingly, grinning unabashedly at the sight of Soobin’s face twisting up in anger; he turns to you, placing a slow, lingering kiss on your cheek before he murmurs softly into your ear. “My flower, don’t you want to show him how perfect you are for me?” 

Beomgyu doesn’t expect a response from you; the way you whine and shift restlessly against him is enough, having already felt him rutting against you the moment he had you caged against the counter— and he continues to do so, even now, the hand on your throat forcing you to tilt your head, allowing him access to suck and bite on the clean canvas of your skin; your eyes flutter shut, and you’re left to rely on his strength to hold you upright, body rocking gently with every thrust that is delivered from the wolf behind you. 

“So sweet for me,” Beomgyu groans, his hands letting go of their respective places before they begin getting busy; your legs feel shaky and you’re left to watch as he undoes the ties of your coat, slipping it off before he reaches to bunch your thin skirt at your waist— you gasp softly, face heating up at the feeling of being so exposed, hands flying to pull down your skirt on instinct— but you’re granted no such reprieve, stilling immediately as a growl leaves Beomgyu’s lips at your action.

Soobin’s head is snapping back at the two of you at the sound of the threat— his eyes widen and he inhales sharply, a clear mistake that only makes Beomgyu grin— your scent, thick and progressively needier, clouds Soobin’s mind, clouds his judgment, unable to do anything more than stare at the way Beomgyu has you in his arms, canines still glittering under the soft lights of your home as a constant warning. 

“You smell it too,” Beomgyu speaks, his words less of a question and more of a fact— Soobin’s eyes dilate and his nostrils flare that moment Beomgyu’s lithe fingers begin to wander around the hem of your panties, feeling your thighs press together and your hands grip at his forearm shyly; from Soobin’s distance, he’s able to pick up on the tears that hang on your waterline, the way your lip quivers from the humiliation of being exposed so crudely. 

“Innocent thing…” Beomgyu murmurs, dipping down to swipe the pad of his middle finger across your slit, listening to the yelp that escapes your lips, feeling your body buckle against him— and sure enough, a spike of your scent follows after, like an addicting toxin that only fuels the desire of the two canines before you, “So tempting. So good.” 

You’re crying softly at the way he continues to tease you, overwhelmed by the foreign sensation, mouth parting in shock as his hand sneaks past the waistband of your panties; you feel as though shocks of electricity flow through you the moment he brushes against your clit, teasingly at first, only to begin circling it steadily soon after— and you can only moan and whine for more, unknowingly bucking your hips forward in search for something else that can satisfy you. 

When your eyes meet Soobin’s, you can only feel a hot wave of shame flow through you— his expression is unreadable; is he embarrassed of you? Disgusted, ashamed that you have already given in to the simplest threats? You’re not remotely near as strong as he is, you defend yourself mentally, you’re sure that it was either this or— or…

“You filthy mutt,” Beomgyu spits out beside you, laughing softly at the way Soobin has yet to take his eyes off you, eyes narrowed meanly and brows tugged together, an expression that could be easily read as rage— but Beomgyu knows better, watching as the said man jumps at the sudden sound of the other’s voice, gaze hardening the moment they lock eyes; Beomgyu huffs out another mocking laugh. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Beomgyu asks, as though he were sharing a secret— behind you, you feel his hips buck against you, able to feel the hardness of his cock as he uses his free hand to press just below your navel, forcing you back on him— and you gasp, his ministrations against your clit never ceasing as he continues to fuck against you slowly, groaning breathlessly at the feeling of your warm body against him; Beomgyu’s eyes never leave Soobin’s, however, pupils filled with nothing but a mocking joy as he continues breathlessly.

“You want her.”

Another wave of arousal floods though you at his words, filling the room and reaching the two men before you with ease; you’re able to see and feel the way their chests rise slowly, the way they take in your essence before letting out pleased sighs, their own strong, heady scents filling your senses as you simply flutter your eyes shut and whine with need.

“No need to deny it,” Beomgyu grins, leaning his head against yours fondly, middle finger abandoning your clit to tease your entrance, your mouth falling open and hips twitching in surprise at the feeling— the man behind you simply watches with amusement, watches the way you meet Soobin’s gaze shyly, body heated up with embarrassment as you can only let out pathetic cries and breathless gasps with every new stimulation— and Beomgyu’s finger enters you slowly, meticulously, angling himself just right; your vision is fogging at the stretch, hands gripping onto the strong forearm that helps keep your upright as you merely beg for more. 

“I’m sure she’d love to give you a show,” he continues, palm pressing against your clit, other hand guiding your hips to roll steadily against his hand— he chuckles softly at the way you’re pliant for him, following his every command without a second thought, “filthy, greedy thing.” 

Though Beomgyu directs those comments at you with a voice of acid-like hatred, the way he stares at you is anything but; his eyes are just as keen as the rest of him, willing to not miss a single reaction you make for him, from the way your voice breaks with need to the way your fingers twitch helplessly against his skin— his body buzzes with a desperate energy, his cock pulsing and begging to be inside you the longer he feels you rock helplessly against him— lucky for him, you seem to be getting just as desperate. 

“Get your filthy hands off her,” Soobin seethes, though he’s unable to make a move to get you away— a single twitch of his tail enough to garner a harsh sneer from Beomgyu, teeth snapping together in warning— the idea of having you claimed, taken, and possibly killed by the monstrosity that holds you hostage is enough to keep Soobin complacent for now, undoubtedly waiting for the moment the wolf no longer has easy access to such a vital part of you to make his move.

Beomgyu doesn’t heed the other’s comment— if anything, he laughs, prodding a second finger at your entrance, forcing the other to listen to the way you perk up and cry in panic, poor inexperienced body not used to the stretch, to the curve of his fingers as he presses against your soaking, tightening walls, calloused skin making you shiver as he forces you to grind against him, to fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“Hmm? Don’t touch her?” Beomgyu asks, curious fingers stretching you open slowly, grinning at the way you throw your head back against his shoulder and whine, a hand slapping over the arm that currently fucks your slowly, pressing against it in feeble attempts of getting more, “What, does it upset you that you won’t be getting to her first?” 

With a particularly calculated thrust of Beomgyu’s fingers, you’re jolting up and letting out a broken moan; he proceeds to continue to abuse the weak spot within you cruelly, watching with an amused gaze as you continue to fall apart against him like clockwork. You’re getting wound up quite quickly, not used to the intense feeling of pleasure being provided to you— and Beomgyu takes in the sight eagerly, smiling in amusement before he’s stopping abruptly, watching your head hang and your chest heave from the sudden loss of stimulation. 

“Does it anger you?” his fingers slide out from your cunt slowly; you twitch at the feeling of emptiness, barely processing the way his hand slowly snakes its way back up, grabbing at your neck and forcing you to look forward again— his fingers, covered in your arousal, prod at your mouth, and in your dumbed state, you can only follow his commands and part your lips dutifully; your tongue circles around his digits and your lips close around them, flushed face painting a lewd scene that only makes Soobin tense; beside you, Beomgyu smiles wickedly. 

“Knowing that you’re about to watch her get fucked open— get knotted good— by a wolf?” 

Soobin thinks he might be seeing red at this point; his hands remain by his side, closed into a tight fist that has his nails threatening to break through his skin— but that’s the least of his worries, especially with the way your ears twitch and your body perks up at the wolf’s words— both of the men are able to pick up on your reaction with ease, one clearly much happier than the other at the sight. 

“You know, if you behave, I might give you a turn.” Beomgyu looks over at you, chuckling softly before he removes his fingers from your mouth, only to grab at your face and turn it roughly to look at him; his fingers dig into your cheeks and his forehead presses against yours, taking one glance at your hazy expression before he’s cooing softly. “I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

All you can do is muster a broken whine in response. 

Beomgyu is letting go of your face with a soft chuckle; slowly, you muster the courage to look forward once more, inevitably meeting Soobin’s gaze as a result— his expression is unreadable, and it makes your knees feel weak— your mind races to try and decipher what he may be thinking about, left unaware of the way Beomgyu has let go of your dress, letting the skirt fall slowly over your front as he busies himself in lifting it from the back instead, allowing himself access and grazing your skin curiously; it is only then that you’re coming back to your senses, heart rate picking up with a panic and body bristling the moment you feel the wolf’s hands wandering across the swell of your ass, muttering soft praise that doesn’t quite reach you— a firm hand grabs at your waist, keeping you in place the moment you tried to shift away from him shyly, tried to cover yourself with a weak protests that only garnered yet another growl; with wide eyes, you looked to Soobin, unaware of the helplessness that coated your glassy pupils. 

“Soobin,” you cry yet again, blood growing cold at the way he simply seems to stand and watch; his gaze seems to have wandered, seems to have been following Beomgyu’s every action, adam’s apple bobbing at the sudden sound of impact that filled the room, the sound of your yelp followed by the sight of your pathetic hands attempting to swat Beomgyu away, easily overpowered the moment the wolf gathers your wrists in his tight hold and scolds you to stay still, his claws digging threateningly into the soft skin— and again, your head whips back around to look at Soobin, ignoring the keen stance of his ears and the slow, interested sway of his tail as you simply call out to him again, “Soobin, please…”

You’re not sure what you’re begging for any more. All you know now is the feeling of Beomgyu’s broad chest pressed against yours, the muddy feeling of your brain as smoke fills your lungs, allowing your head to loll back against his shoulder, allowing your hips to begin to grind back against the hard bulge that has begun to tease you, shivering softly at the way Beomgyu’s head remains buried in your shoulder, pulling you back against him firmly— you barely register the way your voice whines in protest the moment you feel his lips pull away from your delicate skin, abandoning the gentle kisses and sucks to sneer triumphantly, his low voice a half-hearted replica of yours as he proceeds to parrot your words softly. 

“Soobin…” Beomgyu sing-songs, reaching his free hand down to tug at the waistband of your panties, soaked through with arousal that leaves your inner thighs shining pathetically; the said man is snapped out of his trance immediately, enticed gaze hardening the second his eyes find Beomgyu, chin perched on your shoulder leisurely as he continues to tug your panties down, feeling the way they slip down your hips ever-so slowly, “Soobin, come here.”

When Soobin refuses, Beomgyu scoffs— though, he doesn’t seem to be surprised in the slightest. 

“Come on Soobin,” Beomgyu repeats again, softly this time, eyes half-lidded as his mouth dips down to kiss your skin; right at your scent gland, tongue darting out before his eyes dart up to lock eyes with Soobin— you can feel goosebumps form on your skin as Beomgyu laughs breathily, mouth still open as he proceeds to nip at the spot gently; not enough to break skin, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you squeal and jolt in surprise. Soobin flinches. 

“Come.”

It takes a pleading look from your tear-brimmed eyes for him to move. A slow, hesitant step first, pausing momentarily to gauge Beomgyu’s reaction— the said man quirks a brow in amusement, a silent encouragement to continue— and Soobin finally finds himself looming over the two of you, eyes dark and narrowed as he watches you reach out for him with a trembling hand— curling his shirt into your fists, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his chest, body unintentionally arched forward and left in the perfect position for the man behind you— Beomgyu simply coos softly at the action, a false sense of endearment that makes Soobin’s teeth grit with rage; when their eyes meet, the wolf simply smiles. 

“Kiss her,” Beomgyu says, the words almost inaudible from how softly they were uttered— but then he’s grabbing at your head and forcing you to look back up, ignoring the sound of protest you make and holding you up by your jaw as he tilts your head to look at Soobin, fingers squeezing your cheeks and forcing them into a soft pout, “Go on. She’s dying for you to touch her.”

Beomgyu speaks as though he were the one in control of your body and mind— and perhaps he is, you find yourself thinking, teary eyes unable to communicate anything more than want as you feel your panties slowly dragging down your thighs, the wolf behind you hissing softly at the sight of the string of arousal that sticks to the fabric, your slick cunt tightening around nothing in response— Beomgyu’s fingers find themselves teasing your entrance again, three this time, dipping in and out of your cunt, stretching you yet leaving you craving for more.

“I…” Soobin breathes out, reaching out slowly for your face; Beomgyu’s rough hand retreats, and it’s replaced by Soobin’s large, gentle ones that cup your face and stroke your cheekbones, watching the way your eyes flutter up to look at him, tears clinging to your lashes like crystals; his eyes follow the path one makes as it falls, thumb wiping it away softly as he finds himself leaning closer, watches the way your lids fall and leave your eyes hazy and obedient.

This is it, Soobin realizes, eyes flickering back to where Beomgyu continues to tease you, much too lost in the sight of your cunt trying desperately to suck in his nimble fingers to pay much attention to the two of you, this is his chance— he can save you. 

You seem to catch onto Soobin’s calculative gaze quite quickly this time— and your heart flutters with a slight hope, your chest falling in quick, shallow breaths as your hands tighten against the fabric of his shirt— his eyes flicker back to yours from the action, taking in the way they hold that innocent light of yours he’s always adored— and his heart breaks. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

There’s nothing you can say to that; his lips are on yours before you can so much as let out another breath. They’re soft, hesitant, as though you could shatter if he touched you wrong. His hands shake slightly as he holds your face close to his, feels the way your mouth remains frozen for a second, only reciprocating once you’ve felt the soft pass of his tongue against you— and your overwhelmed mind blanks entirely. For the final time tonight, you submit. 

The kiss is slow, it’s deepening out of your control, and it’s everything you imagined many moons ago, when you first began to feel a spark of desire for the man before you— when you swooned and flustered at the comfort you found in him, the warm feeling that always settled in your chest when he was next to you, knowing you could always go to him for protection. 

So as you feel his hold on you become firmer, feel the way he sighs against your mouth with no intentions to let you go soon, you wonder what it is you feel now— trapped between the two canines, lungs burning and and mouth left open as you allow Soobin to venture inside, not allowed any reprieve from the man who keeps you close, a soft groan leaving your lips as your sensitive ears pick up on foreign, slick sounds behind you, hisses and sighs of pleasure from another— because the feeling that pools in your stomach isn’t remotely reminiscent of the gentle, delicate warmth you always felt around Soobin; it’s hotter, angrier, greedier— it begs to be satiated and throws away the last good sense of judgment you had within you. 

“Soobin— oh god, Soobin—” you hiccup suddenly, finally able to escape from the said man’s mouth that seems to chase endlessly after yours; even now, you still can’t help but cry for him, your body unprepared for the sudden feeling of a cockhead swiping at your slit, the wet noises that arise from the sheer arousal that continues to leak out of you. You cry and you beg with hot shame burning at your skin, unsure of whether you plead for mercy or for more— your body arches and your hips seek for more, cunt throbbing at the feeling of Beomgyu’s tip pressing at your entrance, his rough hands rubbing circles along your ass absentmindedly, but your heart twists and makes a thick lump build in your throat, wishing nothing more than to be experiencing this all differently, in the comfort of your room and in the secure, warm embrace of the man in front of you— you wish for something more intimate, something as gentle as the love you felt. 

But all Soobin does is watch. He strokes your hair with a slow hand and cups your cheek fondly, presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before wandering down to press another at the tip of your nose— and he soaks up the pitiful sounds that make your voice break, feeling your hands attempt to steady themselves against him as Beomgyu begins to enter you; slowly, salivating at the way he feels your walls stretch around him, struggling to adjust to merely the tip— he stares down at your dripping pussy with a parted mouth, letting out a slow breath at the sight of your legs that threaten to buckle and your fluffy tail that goes wild with every inch he eases in— and he finds himself having to take deep breaths to not take you as he wants then and there.

“It’s okay. I know, I know— I’m right here, I’m right here with you,” Soobin murmurs against your skin, placing slow kisses along your jaw, allowing you to duck into the crook of his neck for solace— and he smooths your hair as he feels you nuzzle into him, eyes hooking onto the sight over your shoulder of Beomgyu entering you, the feeling of his hips flush against your ass bringing about another shuddered sigh from your lips, nails digging into Soobin’s chest as you attempt to overcome the new sensations. 

“I got you, don’t worry my doll,” Soobin utters, a hand going to place itself on top of your own, intertwining his fingers with yours before he begins to weigh it down, to guide it down his chest— he lets out a shaky sigh, feeling you cry and squirm against him, “It’s okay… just relax and you’ll feel good, okay?” 

“Don’t you wanna feel good?” Soobin coos against your temple, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you nod against his shoulder, feels the way your hand has successfully breached past his underwear, pants already undone and still guided by his much larger hand as he brings you to palm him slowly, wrapping your shaky fingers around his length; you’re hesitant, unsure of your actions as you allow Soobin to show you what to do— though, you don’t think your brain has truly processed what he’s doing with you yet, preoccupied instead by the thick smoke along with another smell that leaves you feeling lightheaded, along with the feeling of hands groping and smoothing over your skin as a heavy cock continues to twitch inside you. 

Beomgyu isn’t quite fond by your sudden shift of attention; his lips remain upturned in distaste, watching intently as Soobin continues to use you however he likes, your face that remains hidden in his neck directly able to smell the calming, dizzying scent Soobin exudes, placating you and dumbing you down to nothing but a fuckdoll for him— his eyes trail down to where he has you jerking him off slowly, Soobin’s lips pressing kisses to the top of your head as he continues to murmur soft praises that have you melting against him— an unfamiliar, hot streak of rage courses through Beomgyu’s system at the sight. 

“So ungrateful,” Beomgyu scolds suddenly, reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and bring you back— he’s forceful, uncaring of the way you protest, an arm that’s wrapped around your stomach pressing you flush against him as he forces the two of you to move— and you’re left bent over the counter, face pressed against the wood and wrists secured behind your back as Beomgyu bunches the skirt of your dress at your hips and bottoms out inside you once again; you hiss at the feeling, looking to the side to see that Soobin is unfazed by the action— if anything, his eyes cloud with lust at the scene before him, taking in the way you’re stuffed full and arched prettily with a gulp. 

“Why won’t you pay attention to me?” Beomgyu asks breathlessly, looking down at your pliant figure with blown out eyes, tail whipping side to side in anger as he catches the way your gaze still seeks out Soobin’s, eyes unknowingly pleading for reassurance— and he growls, low and heavy in his throat, catching the attention of both of you successfully— but he only cares to have your eyes on him, fully engrossed in the way your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back the moment he ruts into you with rough, slow thrusts. 

“Look at me,” Beomgyu groans, pulling out slowly as he speaks, all the way out until the tip of his cock is the only thing catching at your entrance. You’re squirming, trying to move your hips back against him, but the brutal hold Beomgyu has on you keeps you in place; ears pressed flat against your head, you look over your shoulder, back at the wolf who continues to fuck his tip into you with subtle thrusts, sneering at your glassy eyes that continue to look at him with a jarring innocence. 

“That’s right,” he breathes, sinking into you oh so slowly, filling you up and laughing cruelly at the way your hands scramble to hold onto something for stability, for a simple comfort Beomgyu denies, “Eyes on me.” 

Beomgyu fucks you to prove a point; he fucks you so your eyes roll back and your mouth spills moans and whines dumbly, cock filling you to the brim and stretching you out in a way you never knew was possible— the sounds are lewd and has your skin burning, slick, wet sounds of skin against skin filling up the room and mixing along with your cries of pleasure. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be doing any better than you, transfixed entirely on the sight of your cunt sucking him in eagerly, dripping with slick that makes his cock shine and falls to the floor in a mess, of your ass that ripples with every smack of his hips against you— this is all so new to you, he can tell, your body buzzing with an insatiable need that turns you into nothing more than a cock-hungry whore, your tail wiggling desperately with every harsh thrust of his, as though hypnotizing him to keep going.

The sight of you— a drooling, crying, moaning mess— is the polar opposite of your sweet, naive self, your trusting self that got you into this situation in the first place— and it makes Soobin’s cock twitch with raw lust, the spectacle of you becoming ruined so easily something he never thought he’d witness; such a pure thing, Soobin always felt as though you needed to be treated like glass— but Beomgyu is more than willing to prove that’s not the case with you, growling pure filth at you as he continues to fuck you into the counter, watching the way he hovers over you, practically caging you in with his body, as though wishing for the two of you to become one. And just like before, Soobin watches. He stands to the side and listens to every sweet mewl of yours attentively— after all, he’ll get his hands on you soon enough.

“Tight little cunt— fuckin’ takes me so well,” Beomgyu murmurs into your ear, panting and groaning at the way you tighten around him, “such a good girl for me— shit, you like that? Like it when I talk nice to you?”

Beomgyu is quick to catch onto every little reaction of yours, including the way you tighten hopelessly around him every time he sings soft praises into your ears; it makes you want to hide your face in shame and deny his questions, but you barely get a chance to speak with the way he fucks you— fat cock stretching you out, leaving you speechless as he continues to pound into you firmly, sloppy mouth nipping and marking all over your neck; feeling him on your shoulders and back, canines brutishly ripping at your clothes to get more access to your innocent skin, feeling the way your walls squeeze with every scratch of his sharp teeth against you, eager to get his lips onto any part of you he can. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you’re— shit– you’re squeezing me so tight, can barely fuck you,” he rambles off, hand letting go of your wrists so he can grab your hips and pull you back onto him— you’re wailing at the feeling, hands failing to stabilize you as you hold onto the counter, eyes screwed shut as you babble at Beomgyu to slow down— but of course, he doesn’t listen, too caught up in the feeling of you to pay any attention, “Oh, are you close, sweet thing? I can feel you— can feel you getting closer.”

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks you in that same, sweet voice laced with faux pity, smiling unabashedly at the way you immediately nod in response, giving in to his brutal pace, “tell me how bad you want it then.” 

“Please… please let me…” you trail off, unable to communicate properly with the way Beomgyu continues to fuck you, not granting you any mercy as he watches you struggle, “need– need t’cum, want it, feels so good.” 

Beomgyu laughs, the sound labored and breathy from the way you clench around him throughout it; he finds himself glancing over to where Soobin continues to watch, the sight of him focused entirely on your figure making him sneer— his eyes are hypnotized by you and his ears twitch at every weak word that spills from your mouth, lips parted as he all but drools for you— the drastic contrast in character has Beomgyu’s lips twitching in amusement, wondering just where that overprotective bodyguard of yours has gone.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” he mocks, watching as your bowed head nods instantly; he huffs, glancing back at Soobin before he coos softly at you, “Who’s making you feel so nice? Tell me, pretty thing.”

The sudden mention of the pet name is enough to set you off unexpectedly; your mind goes blank entirely, save for a single thought that continues to roll of your tongue like a mantra: 

“Beomgyu,” you cry, sobs wracking at your body from the intense feeling, your voice interrupted with loud, uncontrollable moans, “You— it’s you– Beomgyu— please, please— too much…!”

Beomgyu continues to fuck you until your legs tremble and your body weight is placed entirely on the counter, hips held up entirely by the strength of the man behind you as he finally heeds your pleas; he slows until he’s bottomed out inside you, feeling the way your walls continue to pulse as you whimper quietly at the sensitivity— such a touchy thing, Beomgyu muses to himself, looking down at your messy cunt and feeling the way his cock twitches, still in need to fill you up properly.

“Can’t take anymore?” Beomgyu asks apathetically— and though you weakly let out a sound of affirmation, you can tell he doesn’t really care to hear your answer; not with the way he strokes at your skin in fascination, wandering hand pulling at the base of your tail and watching you squeal in surprise, body arching in an attempt to get away— you all but slump into a pool of overstimulation once he finally lets you go, foggy mind barely able to pick up the way he tsks. 

“Don’t lie— you can, I’m sure you can,” Beomgyu tuts, watching with amusement as you pout and petulantly shake your head, “you’re a good girl, you can take whatever we give you.” 

You don’t seem to process the meaning of his words to a full extent— you’re too far gone to do so, body turned weak as you continue to try and stabilize yourself, chest heaving with every breath you take. But it doesn’t matter if you’ve caught on to what’s happening around you, your every movement taken care of by the two men that cage you in— your shudder at the feeling of Beomgyu pulling out of you, the slick sound drowned out by the crude praises Beomgyu growls; two, strong hands are pulling you up next, proceeding to maneuver you so you sit on the counter— Soobin stands between your legs, looking at you with eyes filled with want and an undeniable pity; he takes in your worn, marked and messy figure intently, watching as his eyes linger on the rips of your dress and the marks all around your shoulders. His hands go up to the area, and your eyes flutter shut, body craving to be covered, to be coddled and tidied. 

“Such a perfect doll for me,” Soobin sighs out, beginning to tug down at what’s left of the material, watching the way you shudder and open your eyes with a slight shock— a whine bubble up at the back of your throat, but you can’t really find the strength to protest the way you’re slowly left undressed before the two pairs of hungry eyes before you, no longer able to find the energy to feel embarrassment from being left bare— Soobin’s voice is as gentle as his movements, feeling him lift your hips so he can slide the dress off you properly; it wasn’t very hard to do anyway, the fabric practically hanging together by a single thread, “It’s alright… I’ve got you.” 

When Soobin wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you off the counter, you can only wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean your forehead on his shoulder, seeking for more of the scent that calms you down and leaves you mindless; your grip tightens the moment you feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he sighs out shakily at the feeling of your sensitive walls fluttering at the feeling— he’s stretching you out slowly, filling you up, and all you can do is bury your head into his neck and try to calm your breathing, taking in the thick sage that fills your senses.

Soobin stays buried deep inside you for a moment, cursing at the tight embrace of your heat around him; you allow yourself to relax— it doesn’t last long though, body jolting with shocks as you feel another head poking at your already stuffed cunt. 

“Wait— wait– I can’t— too full, it won’t fit…!” you cry out, looking at Soobin in a panic; a broad chest pressed firmly against your back, familiar lips pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder— Soobin’s eyes are dark as he takes you in, ears forward and twitching at your pleas; softly, he shakes his head in reassurance.

“You can,” is all Soobin murmurs, watching your face twist as Beomgyu begins to push into you— little by little, stretching you past your limits, resting his chin on your shoulder and shutting his eyes at the sensitive feeling— tears stream down your cheeks freely, soft hiccups escaping you as Beomgyu’s hips press flush against you from behind; Soobin reaches up to caress your head, to pet gently at your ears, and smiles. “See? You’re doing so well. You can take it.”

You shake your head to refute his claims— but it’s not as though that would change the way they’ve begun to slowly pull out, setting their individual paces that inevitably work together, leaving you full no matter what— and it has your head falling back, mouth falling open dumbly as they begin to fuck you; slowly at first, gently, only because your poor cunt has yet to adjust to the size of them. But once they feel the way you leak onto them, the way your cunt begins to clench as their tips ram into places that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, they begin to find the confidence to use you how they want. 

Eventually, you’re nothing but putty in their arms; weakly grabbing onto anything you can for support, one finding a firm grip onto Soobin’s shoulder as the other ventured to tangle itself in Beomgyu’s hair— the said man continues to keep his head buried in your neck, lips having a mind of their own as he continues to nose at your scent gland; the action of him nuzzling against it, of him scenting you, is enough to have you a whining mess, fingers tugging at his hair desperately; it only serves to have him fuck into you harder, hips snapping ruthlessly against yours and rough groans escaping him from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, such a good cunt, so tight— ah,” Soobin groans, watching as your eyes flutter open to look at him, teary and catching the moonlight that shines down through the window; he cups your cheek, stroking at your cheekbone fondly as he speaks, “so pretty… you’re so pretty, all I’ve ever wanted— god, you’re perfect.”

The look of adoration Soobin gives you isn’t lost on you entirely— but there’s something else that rears its head within his gaze, hungry and desperate, threatening to swallow you whole— and you realize that, for the first time ever, Soobin seems to be staring at you as though you were nothing but prey; something for him to claim and own. 

But it seems as though he’s not the only one who possesses those particular feelings— Beomgyu’s pace seems to be growing erratic behind you, knocking you forward against Soobin’s chest and leaving you to wail at the feeling of his cock ruthlessly pounding into you, uncaring of the rhythm the other has set in place; he mumbles gruff words against your neck, but it’s all muffled and interrupted by huffed out moans he lets out in between— but your poor cunt seems to catch onto what he might be saying quite clearly. 

“C-close, oh shit, ‘m so close,” Beomgyu says, finally perking up from his place in the crook of your neck to speak directly into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your jaw as he does, “Ah, d’you feel that? Yeah? Want me to cum inside you?”

You know what his question really entails— you know what your answer should be. But your body simply trembles and your brain short circuits at the thought, traitorous to the last bits of reasoning within you as you dumbly nod at his request; he lets out a moan at the sight. 

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Want my knot, wanna be bred— ffffuck, I’ll give it to you, I’ll knot you, make you mine,” his every movement has become erratic; Soobin finds it hard to continue fucking you, undeniably sensitive to the harsh pace the other has set— but Beomgyu doesn’t care, leaning in close to your ear to whisper his next words. 

“I’ll claim you,” he breathes out, enjoying the way your little tail thrashes against him at the sound, panic filling your tone for a second before you melt into the idea, too fucked out to be able to refuse anymore— if anything, you tighten like a vice around the two, bringing out sensitive sounds from the two; Beomgyu continues to ramble into your ear, much bolder now that he’s taken control of the situation. 

“You want it— oh fuck, yeah, you’ll make such a pretty mate, all for me,” he growls, his words slipping to the other’s ears and alerting him, his eyes widening yet his pace not stopping, “all mine— mine, mine mine— o-oh, shit—!”

It all happens so fast. The swelling of a knot inside you, stretching you out to the point where you find yourself sobbing, pawing at whatever you can and begging for them to slow down, to be gentle— hot cum fills you, your cunt only able to handle so much as Soobin’s cock is pushed out, just enough so his own knot doesn’t catch, his orgasm triggering immediately after— it’s so much, yet it’s not enough, your whole being pulsing with desire for the final thing to push you to the edge— and it comes in the form of sharp canines digging deep into your neck. 

The right side of your neck stings— then, your left. Two sets of teeth have found their home within your skin, the last of your freedom stripped away as your orgasm swallows you whole— you tremble and you twitch within their hold, cunt filled and leaking with their cum, unable to do anything more than lie within their embrace and take what they give you. 

Your eyes feel heavy; you will yourself to stay awake, but your vision becomes spotted within moments— for the first time in a while, your mind is able to find peace.

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

When you finally wake, you find yourself surrounded by warmth; with heavy blankets over your figure, you’re able to recognize the place as your room. You attempt to look around, but are immediately met with a searing pain— the night’s events flood through your mind all at once, and suddenly, you’re able to sense the presence of two others next to you; their arms wrap around you and they remain glued to your side, one embrace much more familiar than the other. 

Through your line of sight, you’re able to spot the moon that peaks through your window, hovering just above the dark, looming canopy of the forest. You stare and you stare, unsure of what to make of everything— of what you’re feeling, of the bodies that shift beside you, pulling you closer to them, as though it could never be enough. 

Your eyes sting, and after a second, you find yourself mourning. Mourning for your loss of freedom, for the overwhelming amount of sensations you were put through, and for this complex, dangerous situation you’ve been thrust into. 

You were warned of the forest; you were warned that nothing good came from venturing within. 

But even then, nothing could have saved you from the creatures that roamed beyond.

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fanfiction #soobin smut #soobin ff #soobin imagines #soobin oneshot #soobin x reader #soobin fanfic #soobin fanfiction #kpop smut

[metaltangodiva]

what are your thoughts on the different 'versions' of Krauser as well his various dynamics with Leon? Also do you have any advice for like...not being afraid to add your own interpretations and spins to characters? Like i think i care way too much about what people would think, so i'm a but scared to start posting anything, but at the same time I'd love to add to the fic collection lol

Hello hello~!

I wanna preface this quickly by saying I'm fucking unable to summarize anything, lmao. This turned out to be TWO ESSAYS.

I'll start by replying to the second question, because I sorta realized, about halfway through the answer, that I was writing a fucking essay on Metaltango and I didn't wanna overlook the second point of your message. Because it's super important to me, as a writer (amateur/hobbyist, but writer nonetheless) that people who want to write can do it.

And my suggestion is super easy: do it. Write the thing.

I know it's hard, I went through it too. It's hard to not compare yourself to other people, to go and think "man, they're not gonna like how I portray them". When I started writing "Normal", that was my worry. I was taking these badass, gun-toting, zombie-killing, masculine characters and putting them into a situation that's not only opposite to that, but pretty damn taboo in general. I've had Comments™. But whatever.

And what I tell people, when they say they're worried about how their stories are gonna be received, maybe because it takes a weird non-canon spin, or they feel their tropes are overdone, is:

Do it anyways. There's only you to craft that story you wanna see the way you want it; no one else can do it the exact same, even with the same prompts, the same tropes, the same characters. Everyone views things differently, and I think it's an amazing thing when it comes to art, well... almost everything, honestly. A saying that goes in a Discord server I hang out on is "there's nothing original anymore", but not in a bad way at all — so many works have the same themes, and yet they all still stand out somehow.

I might not the audience. This guy next to me might be, though! Or who knows, maybe *I* am the audience!

But you don't know any of this until you write it. Do it.

OKAY SO I GUESS THAT WAS PART ONE, lol.

SO LET'S GOO FOR PART TWO!

My thoughts on the different versions: I love them! Each version and each game brings something new to the table. I got started with RE4 (VR) — I liked how *aggressively homoerotic* that knife fight was.

Since it was my entry point to RE as a whole, I was curious as to *who* Krauser was, what was his relation to Leon, what happened between them, so on, so forth. Probably what a lot of people went through before Darkside Chronicles became a thing. His obsession for Leon and especially the *passion* behind it. Surely what happened between them was personal!

Then I heard of Darkside Chronicles and I had to play it for myself. So I did. And I was positively surprised when I saw Krauser as he was back around 2002. Gruff, rough around the edges, but just as snarky as Leon — and I love snarky characters. I felt their humor meshed so well. The "boy scout" exchange has lived rent-free in my head since I heard it. Same with the shared water bottle/indirect kiss. The snake/butterfly. Krauser starting as kinda dismissive of Leon, but quickly wisening up about it and treating him as an equal (and I feel it's more than that). And this became what I really wanted to see between them on the long run, hence why I started writing the AU "Normal" takes place in. They were such a good team, in spite of Krauser's wildly varying emotions.

Then RE4R came out, and it introduced them in a mentor/trainee relationship and I love that too. It's a whole different dynamic; Krauser's more serious but still does not shut up, Leon is still a smart mouth — I guess they clashed a lot overall and Leon can probably thank Krauser for all the extra push-ups and laps that gave him this *chef kiss* physique... but Krauser has a soft side to him. The guy really cared for his men, but as an instructor, as a soldier, as a superior and also as a human, probably couldn't voice it all too well. I cried when Leon picked up Krauser's knife, kneeled next to him and Krauser told him he was proud of him. That he had trained him well. It's a dynamic I wish I could capture well enough to put in words, but my real-life experience with anything army-related is nonexistent (well, so is my ageplay/military/"life as a couple" experience with "Normal", lol) and I feel I'd have a harder time with portraying it how I want to. So... I'm eventually gonna do it, outside of oneshots.

TLDR: Give me all the Krausers. They all bring something to the table <3

#metaltango #jack krauser #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #headcanon #i love them your honor #oh fuck I wrote two essays #DO IT

[cheswirls]

sa fic rec list [ENG] pt 3

preface: i have a public collection on ao3 of my favorite sa fics on there but not all of them are listed on the front-end so these are some unlisted ones, some i love that can't be added to collections, and one special fic on ffn for fun :)

past non-english language rec lists here and here. ao3 collection here.

-

1) Prince Sabo by drowningrat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43683183 complete - T rating - 3k - au

this one is rly cute domestic fluff modern au goodness. will never get enough of it, rat's prose and dialogue are too good. ace finds out from a former uni classmate of sabo's how many people sabo's dated before him and gets unreasonably jealous and drunkenly confronts sabo about it at home much to sabo's chagrin. it's really. it's adorable. nothing i say will ever come close to how giddy reading the fic makes me feel. their dynamic is TOO cute they are tooth-rotting with how sweet they are. if you want a quick read pls give this one a chance

2) Song Of Genesis by Echaryn

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8544379/chapters/19587928 complete - E rating - 45k - au

this one is my most favorite saboace fic of all time. i cannot recommend it highly enough, it's that fantastic. this is coming from someone who doesn't read nsfw anymore and hasn't for years now – song of genesis literally is and will always be number one in my heart. if you also don't care abt explicit content, i can assure you it's entirely skip-able in this fic w/o losing any enjoyment or context.

SoG is a 'getting back together' type fic that stabs your heart at every angle and at every opportunity during the beginning. echaryn is a fantastic writer and handles the contents of the story so so so well. the break-up is ace's fault but he doesn't know why / the break-up is sabo's decision but he regrets it at every turn. they're still so deeply in love with each other and one turn of events late one evening is the catalyst to bring them back together.

there are horror elements in this in the background that are done spectacularly well. the tags on the fic itself pretty much cover the extent of it but i do wanna throw by two cents in that i don't think anything about it is particularly graphic. if horror isn't your thing this is toned down enough that you should be fine to skim thru or skip parts if necessary. it's good for a horror enthusiast but it's not over the top for those who could care less.

if you read anything from this list pls read che's #1 saboace fic rec of all time pls and ty

3) Red Moon by emygrl99 and leafyxthiefy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703183/chapters/15330946 complete - T rating - 123k - au

red moon is still, six years after first reading it, the most interesting and well-crafted premise for a soulmate au i've ever heard of in my life. if you're familiar with a majority of soulmate bond types and know this particular one then you'll probably pick it up before the reveal, but if not ooooooooooo you're in for a treat. i won't mention it here to save the suspense.

i've never read another soulmate fic as good as this one, and the soulmate aspect isn't necessarily even the best part?? the atmosphere of the fic comes from character relationships and interactions. ace and sabo start out on the wrong foot and it takes time for them to change their opinions about each other, but as you can see by the length, the journey is done with patience and well worth the effort spent :)

as someone indifferent to a lot of the minor characters in this fic, i actually enjoyed them and their various roles a lot??? i guess the takeaway is that you should look at the character list and take it in stride (and the minor relationship that is tagged is v minor like if it's not your cup of tea pls still give the fic a chance). everyone is a joy to read and experience things through. also the world-building is so well done. i have not been into vampire content for many years now but i can say with full confidence that this one still slaps.

also as someone who enjoys like... not necessarily "slow burn" but like a natural progression of a relationship from people who just met into something romantic – this fic hits all those points for me surprisingly well??? my only complaint is that as long as it is sabo and ace barely admit their feelings for each other by the end. i live and breathe to see romantic relationships in fic and red moon is primarily build-up. the two have to be friends first, which takes time and is good! not knocking the fic for that. jus throwing it out there that it's one of the they-hold-hands-by-the-end shoujo-type stories.

maybe before this gets too long i should uh. TALK abt what the fic entails. it's a fantasy-esque story where sabo, a vampire hunter, is captured and taken prisoner by a vampire coven living in the mountains. while he's being held captive, he discovers luffy, the little brother he'd thought was dead for years, is living among the vampires and is the same age at which he supposedly died. this triggers some mixed emotions in sabo about the coven and its members, but most importantly gives him incentive to act iffy in regards to luffy's "father", ace, who is not intent on being at all friendly with sabo either.

4) Epiphany by Scarletsorceress

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30518460 complete - T rating - 5.5k - canon(divergent)

everything scarlet writes for acesabo is done immaculately. if you read this fic and like it, please do yourself a favor and read all of her other fics as well. there are some real gems she has in her collection, but this one has a special place in my heart considering i really don't read sa fics sets in canonverse all that much.

also because it paints a side of the one piece world that i like seeing a lot in fan content – specifically how gruesome it is and the dire straits average everyday citizens go to to survive above the waves. not even to have a peaceful or even "good" life, but just to life long enough in good health to make it count. one piece follows the strawhats as focus characters, which is why i've never been concerned about reading fic starring them. reading about non-titular characters that dont' get as many updates, or that oda teases the lives of without going into depth, has always been more interesting.

and to go with that, the revolutionary army has by far always been the most interesting group of people in the op-verse for me. any fic that focuses on them and paints a picture of their struggle is worth a read. the fact that this is saboace is great, and i love it, but it's also a bonus to a great fic concept in general, which is:

what happens to RA members when a mission goes south and people are killed as a result of their actions?

i don't think the RA gets enough credit for how well they individually hold themselves together. it's fine to portray a kind of "escapism" and have them be happy because they deserve to be happy, but fics like this where it dives into how much their actions (and failures) affect them are always, to me, taking the RA and stripping them of their masks.

also ace is really, really loving and caring and kind and supportive in this fic, which i love seeing. sabo is a miserable wet rag after a mission gone wrong and ace is there to pick up the pieces. bonus points to the dynamic of ace and koala i love them sm in this????? so so so much.

5) In the Morning with a Cup of Warm Tea by sleepymery

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17241962 complete - T rating - 2k - au

this is another from the back-end of the ao3 collection – jus a short and sweet modern au full of domestic fluff!!! that is my bread and butter especially for fics from fandoms where canonverse is so tumultuous and full of strife. which op definitely is!!!! also its not like ace and sabo's canon relationship is happy anyway /shot

this one is happy and cute. a typical morning w sabo and ace on an anniversary of sorts :) all of maery's sa fics are adorable. i used to come back to this one all the time several years ago.

6) How We're Made by paox

https://fanfiction.net/s/12624109/1/How-We-re-Made complete - T rating - 177k - au

i love this one with all my heart and soul. i was actually in the middle of re-reading it a couple years back when it got deleted from ao3 which is :( but it's still up on ffn so!!! ffn it is hehe.

paox at one point was definitely my favorite saboace fic writer and might still be. her prose and writing style in general is so phenomenal in my eyes. the way she writes asl individually and as a dynamic trio (and their various duos as well) really left a mark on me when i first got into one piece. she truly does understand their characters perfectly, and even in a dystopian au such as this, they stay true-to-form throughout.

side note, the majority of this fic focuses on asl and sabo and ace's relationship doesn't change until near the end. it's probably a minor spoilers to say it does but this is a sa rec list so. anyway i threw this up here bc i love paox's writing and this one is complete and more than a drabble. the way she paints sabo's character as a person broken down by an oppressive system, who rises to light the fire of revolution and never stops seeing the good in humanity, it's just perfect to me. this is the man oda brought back from the dead to play a crucial role in the second half of one piece. paox gets it. sabo is so well-written and so true-to-form that any other attempt at his character by anyone else is almost laughable in comparison. this is THE sabo fic of the list.

i have another paox fic (two i think!!) in the front-end list of the ao3 collection so definitely give those reads as well :) one is incomplete but will break your heart nonetheless, the other i think is a longer drabble that has my heart by the throat. i think all the ones still on ao3 are compiled under their old ffn account as well, so navigating to them this the HWM fic link might be a better choice. if you can read on ffn lmaoooo adblockers are your friends.

#saboace #acesabo #op

[kazoosandfannypacks]

“Always Remember (the burning embers)” by kazoosandfannypacks

Pairing: Captain Swan Rating: General Word Count: 1380 Summary: Killian and Emma have a late night conversation about careless words that've left their scars Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, one shot, post canon, canon compliant, fix-it-fic, missing moment Author’s notes: I've been planning this fic for a little while here, since sometime during season 5. The title is based on the taylor swift song "the great war," which I feel nicely sums up Killian and Emma during the Dark Ones arc, though this fic takes place probably a couple years later. Taglist:@zahara@kmomof4@jonesfandomfanatic@booksteaandtoomuchtv@jrob64@tiganasummertree@anmylica@teamhook@undercaffinatednightmare@gingerchangeling@lonelyspectator@caught-in-the-filter  @ultraluckycatnd  @cs-rylie @silver-the-phoenix @pawshapedheart [if you’d like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

 Killian had gotten so used to waking up next to Emma that it always felt weird when he didn't- especially when it was two A.M., and she'd been right there when he fell asleep, and now she wasn't.

 At first, he suspected maybe she'd gone to the bathroom or to get a drink of water or something like that- but then he saw her, sitting at the foot of the bed, seeming a touch unwell.

 "Is something wrong, love?" he whispered.

 She turned around, a bit startled.

 "I didn't realize you were still up."

 "Love, it's two in the morning," he said, "have you been awake this whole time?"

 "I guess," Emma said.

 "What's wrong, love?"

 "Nothing," she shook her head.

 He knew her better than to believe that.

 "What's wrong?" he repeated.

 "Nothing important." Emma said, quickly.

 "Emma," he said, hoping his soft tone could soften whatever armor she'd been crafting, "if you're up thinking about it at two in the morning, it must be important. What's wrong?"

 She sighed, and glanced back at him for a moment- and in that moment he nodded to her, like you'd nod to an injured animal to ask it to trust you, to tell her, "Go on. Let me help you."

 "It still feels like a fairy tale," she said.

 Rather than try and read into that statement, he simply asked for clarification.

 "What does?"

 "All of it," she said, in a whispered breath like an angry laugh, "you, Henry, my parents, our home- our happy beginning."

 "Aye," Killian nodded, knowing she still hadn't hit the point of her problem.

 "And the problem with a fairytale is the story always ends, the book closes, and you're back to being whoever it was you were escaping from."

 "Emma," Killian crawled out from under the covers and over to the foot of the bed so he could sit next to her, "what we have here is real, and it's not going away."

 "I know," Emma shook her head, "and I'm trying so hard to believe that."

 "What's stopping you?"

 She shrugged. "Myself. For someone whose job is happy endings, I'm pretty good at destroying my own."

 "What's that supposed to mean, love?" Killian asked, trying to sound reassuring and not like that was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

 "I…." she shook her head.

 "You don't need to push me away, love."

 "That's just the thing- that's what I do," she shook her head, "I push people away- people I love."

 And she tacked on, on top of it all, so softly he almost didn't hear it: "and that's why I'll always be an orphan."

 "Emma, love," he said, carefully but desperately turning her face to his, "where did you get such a ridiculous idea?"

 She pushed away physically this time, shaking her head and turning away from him.

 "I'm glad you don't remember," she said, almost smiling.

 "Remember what?"

 "It's nothing."

 "It's not," he insisted, his voice raising above a whisper for the first time that night, "talk to me."

 Her eyes almost seemed the blue ones for all the tears they held back as she looked up at him. He wanted to help her, wanted to dry the tears she was afraid to cry, wanted to clean up the mess she was afraid to spill, and wanted to make everything right for her. That's all he ever wanted for Emma, to be that for her, to be the one she could turn to no matter what she was facing- to be the one who made her burdens lighter.

 "The conversation at Regina's," Emma took a deep breath, "back when we were Dark Ones."

 He'd tried so hard to purge those awful memories, choosing to dwell on their happy moments instead of ones like that, those moments where they didn't trust each other, where they closed themselves off to each other, where they argued with each other….

 "That moment when I told her she'd always be an orphan," He recalled, "her pain now is my fault."

 He didn't know what to say now. All he knew how to do was throw his arms around her, pull her close to him, hold her as tight as he could and choke out an "I'm sorry."

 So, that's what he did.

 "It wasn't you," Emma said, "it was the darkness. I've tried not to mention it, because I know you'd never…."

 Though he couldn't see her face (which was buried in his embrace,) he could tell by the way her voice trailed off that she was crying, and he quickly let go of his right arms' grip around her, so he could catch the tears as they rolled down her cheek.

 He knew his apology was nowhere near sufficient, but he still didn't know what to say- what could his words do to make up for such loveless atrocities?

 "I'm sorry," Emma said, "I shouldn't've brought it up. I shouldn't've mentioned it."

 "Nonsense," he said, taking her hand in his and pulling it close to his chest, "I never want you to think that a problem you have is too big to share with me. Understand?"

 She nodded. He sighed, unsure what words would tumble out after his breath.

 "I love that you're my anchor, Emma," he said, "a ship would be lost without her anchor, and I'd be lost without you. I love everything you've ever done for me. Do you know what else I love about you?"

 "What?"

 "Call me a bit of a narcissist, but I love that you're my mirror. When I see you, I see a lot of myself. I see someone who never gives up, someone who risks their life for those they love, someone who does everything they can to be a hero, no matter what mistakes they've made.

 "And when I first met you, I saw what you were," he continued, "and what I was- a lost boy, a lone wolf- an orphan. And when I said those angry dark words I wish I could take back, words I never should've said- I was talking to myself too."

 He'd never seen a perfect blend of confusion and understanding quite like the one he saw on her face now.

 "We did push people away, love. We did hide from the people who cared about us. That's why we should still be orphans. But that's not what we are anymore."

 "Why not?"

 "Because we turn to the people we love. We've set aside our armor and chosen something new."

 "What's that?"

 "Trust."

 Still holding her hand close to his heart, he instead brought it to his lips and kissed it.

 "Emma Swan, you will never be an orphan again. That's not who you are anymore. You're the Savior. You're my True Love, my happy beginning and ending and everything in between. You're a mother and a daughter and a hero and the most perfect wife a man could ever ask for."

 "Some days I have trouble believing that," Emma shook her head, "but I believe in you."

 With the hand that he wasn't holding, Emma reached up and stroked his face, her cold hand warming against his cheek. "So if you can believe in me, I can believe in me too," she said.

 "I'm glad to hear it, love."

 "And you're not an orphan anymore either, Killian Jones," Emma said. She kissed his hand, then pulled it close to her heart, "You're my family. You're my best friend. You're my true love. My hero."

 "Aye," He nestled his head against her forehead, gently, then whispered "I love you."

 "I love you too," she whispered back, "thank you."

 "Anytime, love," he said, "now, let's get back to bed."

 They both let go of each other, only so they could crawl back across to the other side of the bed. As soon as they were both under the covers, Emma slid into his arms, wrapping her own arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest.

 "Goodnight, my love," he said, craning his neck forward so he could kiss her forehead.

 "Goodnight, Killian." She replied, sounding sleepy but satisfied.

 And with that, Killian fell asleep the only way that felt natural anymore- with Emma in his arms.

#captain swan #once upon a time #killian jones #emma swan #ouat #cs ff #fanfiction #missing moment #fix it fic #once upon a time season 5 #kazzy writes

[borrelia]

Since round 2 of @sonic-oc-showdown is so close right now, thought I'd do this questionnaire for dog! after going through some other competitors' summaries vs propaganda, i definitely get a much better idea of the character from this supplemental stuff!

Original post by @/redd956 here! Banner by @/bunnymajo :) ty!

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Hmm poorly! ^_^; But the logic became: Dog picked his name* because he was amused by the idea of having a name that can be general slang. he's always waiting for the day when someone says "what's up, dawg?" (he lives in a 90s sonic comic okay?) and he can.. well.. he hasn't really realized his response would not be different whether that was just a normal greeting or his name. and I'm not sure it's going to happen either, but it amuses him anyway. he's easily amused :) *all three of them in their core friend group have picked their names. dog + bebe for transgender reasons and fleet just for general Identity reasons.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

16 (or 16-ish; i actually have to check his ref every time so the specific number isn't that important since I can never remember it)

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

i feel like this kid could DEMOLISH some chinese takeout. he's going for noodles, he's going for dumplings, he's going for spice.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

skating! dog + her friends all meet + bond over skating :) dog prefers to board and honestly takes it real casual. she can do some tricks and will go out there and focus for a while, but usually she just slowly rolls around on her board and chats with her friends. she also collects trading cards and plays videos games.

🎯 -What do they do best?

dog isn't really the competitive type--she's just here to have fun and be herself. as such, she doesn't really care to think about whether or not shes 'good' at things... he's just chilling! i think his friends might say his strengths are in handling stress, being a good listener, and first aid. and then theyd tack on that some of the casual little gum wrapper crafts she makes are wicked cool

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

loves: chilling, being with friends, hanging out, having a good time

hates: when anything starts to be not that. majorly avoids anything that is too much Not the above things.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

not really a memory, but i think he treasures his childhood friendship with bebe :) he loves to see how she's grown into a more confident and happy person. any time he makes a new friend is a good memory. any time his friends make a new friend is also a good memory. reaching out and welcoming in that nervous yellow hedgehog lingering at the edge of the park for the first time and seeing him warm up to the group was a good memory :)

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

dog good vibes forever <3

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

Pretty much! I've gone back and forth on what kind of gloves to give her, and the hoodie is just a normal skull instead of sans, but otherwise is still check my work on her original ref

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Fleet Needs Friends dot MyMind

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

Dog being part of canon-divergence au in the fleetway comics puts her in variety comedy/adventure i guess :) in my mind, the stories the group get up to are "working together to defeat a minor villain in the area even though they don't have powers" and "getting possessed by/having wishes granted by/retrieving one of ebony's magical macguffins." the non-story fanficky stuff is mostly Chilling, Hanging Out, Shooting the Shit, and Being Unbothered. (as well as like. semi-grounded melodrama. you know the fun of taking character moments So Seriously?)

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

gender: ? sexuality: ??

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

none that I've bothered to make, but i could see her having an adult older brother

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

dog's parents aren't really in the picture! he lives with his nan. they have a semi-strained relationship--they love each other and have their bonding moments, but she can get pretty riled up about some of the things dog does (knuckle tats, dirty room), even if there are others she just doesn't seem to care about (skipping school, extended stays at friends' houses, nosering). dog usually defaults to "ignore and avoid" if things are anything less than peachy.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

he's just so easy to draw and i got that design down PAT. im really happy with dog + bebe + merger fleet all sharing color across their designs :) the friends. (i need to get bebe some green +gold accents tho it seems...)

also the knuckle tats detail and this

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

usually when i'm having a fleet Moment dog comes along for the ride, maybe gets slingshotted forward into his own moment. so not that often, but in batches

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

dog live forever <3

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

none that she would tell you 👍

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

dog everyones friend forever <3

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

Just over a year! the ref is dated august 6th 2022 and i did the original sketches the day before.

#myaa #socs #couch art #reading other ppls' character summarizes makes it much clearer what makes a good summary and i left those things out so </3 oh well! #doggy i love doggy vote my special girlguy <3

[whetstonefires]

not sure if it counts as a trope, but for the trope grade asks: canon divergence AU

I like these! They give a good balance between having the canon as a launch pad and giving the fic writer space to play, and there are so many ways to approach it that you can get a really good story at a number of different skill levels.

Obviously no premise or trope precludes bad fic, but the amount of structure canon divergence AUs offer is good for a lot of different things that work well in a fandom context. You can build in lots of worldbuilding exploration and character study as well as engaging with the structure of the plot and where its give points are, or put in the work to earn a non-canon pairing so it has context that makes it make sense. It gives you space to flex some craft without being unreasonably demanding.

Of course, sometimes people start out saying it's a canon divergence AU and then start building in increasingly massive retcons that make the fic much more AU than that label implies.

Which is fine, in itself, no one's obligated to do things the hard way in their hobby output and where should you be self-indulgent if not in your fanfic, but the mislabeling tends to annoy me--not just on organizational grounds, but because the emotional weight of changes in an actual canon divergence AU is different than if you're rearranging context elements and doing large-scale worldbuilding to get your desired result.

The latter is much easier to get to a given endpoint with, of course, but it tends to mean you haven't actually delivered on what you promised in characterization terms. I'm very invested in the relationship between character and context lmao.

I may have a very strict definition of the term but I think it's pretty self-defining: canon has to have proceeded as it did up until a certain point, from which point the fic proceeds on a tangent vector. Having diverged. The divergence point can be as ludicrous as you want IMO and still count, but you have to build your castle on the established foundation. Stuff that's outside the scope of the original narrative is fair game, but the more of it you add and the more it doesn't play by the established rules the more you're spilling out of bounds.

Which I mean, the only penalty for that is your fic is now tacky and will make some readers feel cheated, but still.

Occasionally I've seen a deliberate fakeout done where what looked like the canon divergence point was a red herring and actually caused by some other much earlier change. This is fine because it preserves the element of causality that defines the 'divergence' concept.

Anyway kvetching aside, B+ I guess? Maybe A? I can see why you're not sure if this counts as 'a trope' because those tend to be more internal elements than entire narrative structures, and it's weird to imagine searching AO3 for canon-divergence AUs. Unless the canon is a very particular flavor of tragedy, maybe.

#ask #hoc est meum #chimaerakitten #ask game #fanfiction tropes #strictly speaking part of the premise of scum villain #is some creep putting in the work to make their canon divergence au crackship canon #but because of the way the setup works they technically aren't doing retcons they're patching plotholes with what always actually happened #but just Never Came Up in the original canon #and ofc also it's not strictly canon divergence because there's an OC in there causing the changes while impersonating the canon character #so yeah there are a lot of things that are LIKE canon divergence but aren't really #which complicates this reply

[chiarrara]

Expanding a bit more on the art school AU:

Yea, Yuuji’s hoodies and jackets are a bit on the pricier side, but considering that they’re good quality and that it’s mostly the work of one passionate highschooler it’s worth it. And yea, since I see Inumaki also being a second year in the textile class as well he’d definetly help Yuuji. I feel like he’d have a lot more experience with the machines used in the fashion Industry and would let Yuuji borrow them from time to time. And have him pay in rice balls. (Side note on Toge: he’s more into techwear and street fashion. In this au, he still has pretty limited speech but more in the form of a speech impediment and or selective mutism, so I feel like he’d try to be innovative and make accessories that can help him communicate more efficiently, some kind of jewelry maybe)

I feel like he first started making clothes as gifts for others. The first thing he made was a scarf Nanami still wears.(because guess what he’s his adoptive dad in this au and YES they’re all happy)

A small side story idea I had: Nobara gets an order from an acquaintance’s acquaintance for a custom made detailed desk. Small problem: the customer wants it done is about 5 days. A desk like that would take weeks. Since it’s a really good deal she can’t refuse winds up going kinda insane for a few days, not sleeping, only carving and crafting, probably calling Megumi and Maki(who’s also in woodwork but is studying to be a blacksmith on the side) to help her out on certain portions. She ends up getting paid well and just collapses in her bed for like 2 days afterwards(maki had to come into her room a few times to check if she’s still alive)

The shibuya incident of this universe is probably a big art fair/convention that has everyone on a serious time crunch (they’re fighting for their lives trying to get everything done and doing their best to not collapse at the convention hall)

The Shibuya Incident is an art fair 😭😭😭 I'm obsessed with that sentence. and also, i would like to see it

I love streetwear Yuuji and techwear Inumaki. and also I'd love to see them have more of a friendship, I think that'd be so cute. Inumaki teaching Yuuji how to use the surger and the embroidery machine.

Also, in combo with @mana-jjk 's texting hcs for Toge, what if he had like a face mask with a digital display and he could text into his phone and it would come up on the mask but he would rarely use words and would mostly just display kaomoji (idk anything about techwear lmao)

Nobara: *gets an absolutely impossible task*

also Nobara: yeah fuck it I could do that

I just love how much she believes in herself 🥹 i also love insane nobara. i just love nobara.

ALSO BLACKSMITH MAKI SIGN ME THE FUCK UP

anyway I love every little bit of this. I'm eating it up. feel free to send more. I'm so obsessed. Are they in a rivalry with the Kyoto school, for instance? what does panda do? anything and everything about megumi my most favorite boy...

#jjk art school au

[bengalaas]

A Year In Review: 2022 Writing

So I’m weeks behind the usual end-of-year memes, but whatever. The past year has not been too great, although good things happened too. Anyway, here’s how it compares in terms of writing: 2019 | 2020 | 2021 |

Writing

I wrote a measly 7600w for A Different Kind of Courage, making 2022 the... third (?) year in a row when I’ve been planning to finish the fic, but then life happens and everything flies out the window. But those were quite solid three chapters and I’m rather proud of them, as the story reached the crash-and-burn end point of an arc. It was terribly satisfying to write. So many things coming finally together, mmm.

In the beginning of last year I randomly started Poludnica / Midday Shadows, a Shadow & Bones fanfic, of all things, and got some 16k words in before Russia’s war in Ukraine made me kinda unwilling to continue writing in a setting/aesthetic based on romanticized Tsarist Russia. But it was very fun while the inspiration lasted and maybe someday I’ll pick it back up.

I also wrote a small ‘Tasertricks in Thedas AU’ oneshot Dancing In the Ruin; a tiny M!Lavellan/Josie drabble Air; a similarly tiny Matt/Elektra ficlet Trade it all in for a lifetime of smelling your skin; and translated two fics: People Caught in a Storm (American Gods) by @spaceinthecage and Leave Barefoot (The Punisher) by She is Hale, which is a prose poem and I’m pretty proud of that one too :)

So that’s 38,600 words writing and 2145w translation.

Somehow, I apparently have had less productive years. (how...??)

Beta thanks

@serial-chillr is still as awesome as ever, she knows the craft, and she also just holds my hand when I haven’t posted anything in a while and suddenly start doubting every single damn thing I know about English grammar XD

Progress

I think Poludnica was the most important learning exercise, as I cut myself some slack and just let myself get some writing done. So there’s some time-jumping, cutting of boring scenes I didn’t want to write, there’s short chapters, there’s more summaries and less descriptions than usual, etc. But apparently the pacing still works okay. So yeah, I guess I now have experience consciously writing an average fic just for fun :D

I also discovered that prose poems are a thing, and that I love them. There should be more of them.

Community

I’ve kinda drifted away from DA and The Hobbit; blazed through Shadow & Bone, and then @sausagesquirrel dragged me into the Daredevil/The Punisher fandom. So I’m making some new friends like @youwouldneverbreakthechain​  and appreciating the ones I’ve known for years, like the excellent @cafeleningrad, @serial-chillr, @vyrridiana, @dafan7711, and other pocket friends (and @dorianpink came back to tumblr!!) ♥

Comments

Unexpectedly many, on a fic I didn’t give much of a damn about :D So fandom is weird.

But also I’m so impressed by Serial and Squirrel and @valla-valla who have kept reading my fics even in new fandoms: you are so lovely, and your support means a lot to me ♥

2023

Honestly, I just want to finish something by this point lol. I’m hoping to have more free time this year, but I think that, for a while, at least, if I’ll be writing anything, it will be behind the scenes until I’m sure I can carry on. I really don’t want to update and then disappear again.

So that’s the most important plan. Sort out this inconvenience called depression, and fall in love with writing again :)

#beng's writing #bengruminations

[immabethehero]

Encanto Day 30 - Milk

OK so context: my friend Breanna loves three things: milk, Encanto and The Sandman. So I decided to write a behemoth of a crossover.

This is both a modern au of Encanto and a sequel to this story I wrote back in the summer.

Shoutout to @doitforstamets and stargrazing on Discord for helping me write this.

Happy Birthday @breannasfluff! I hope you like this!

~~~~~~

“So… we meet again.” Bruno stares at the bottom of his suitcase, his expression weary. It has been sixteen years. Sixteen years of non-cow-costume-wearing bliss. And yet, here he is, pulling out the outfit once more, like a retired clown applying his makeup.

It’s not that Bruno doesn't enjoy dressing up and playing pretend, hey, his real Gift is acting! It’s this costume in particular he doesn’t enjoy.

At least he won’t suffer alone this time.

In the dining area of the hotel, Pepa has gathered her children and nieces to watch the infamous video of Brumilkerbell, the Fairy Cow Princess. Every single one of them is in hysterics as they watch Bruno stumble in his little heels, ball gown flouncing around him. Bruno rolls his eyes.

“I’m glad you sadists are finding pleasure in my pain,” he says loudly as he joins them at their table.

“Turn the clip off, I can't breathe!” Mirabel gasps between wheezes.

“It’s even better than I remember!” Isabela howls.

“Mom, why didn’t you give birth to me sooner? I wish I had been in the area when this happened!” Camilo snorts.

“Honestly, Milo, I’m surprised I didn’t give birth right then and there, I was laughing so hard,” Pepa admits, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Funny,” Bruno snaps. He dumps the costume on the table. “Here it is, kids: the worst out-of-context vision I ever had.”

His sobrinos immediately crowd around the table, marvelling and snickering at Brumilkerbell’s get-up.

“It’s even bigger than I remember,” Dolores remarks.

“There’s the seven foot frame you wanted, Camilo,” Mirabel says.

Camilo is laughing too hard to respond.

“So why are we doing this again?” Agustín asks.

“Because my friend in the online writing club I’m in needs some help, and I’m the only person in the whole group who can supply her with what she needs,” Bruno explains. “Her ex-boyfriend’s niece’s friend’s son is having his fourth birthday party and apparently this year he wants it cow themed.”

“That’s a lot of different acquaintances,” Julieta remarks.

“That’s just how her friend group works,” Bruno says. “Her ‘found family’ has gotten pretty big since she last checked.”

Alma checks her pocket watch. “It’s 12 pm, we should get going. Boys, do you have your…?”

Agustín and Félix hold up their own cow costumes, one a police officer and the other a construction worker. Bruno smiles gratefully at the two. As stated previously, at least he won’t suffer alone this time.

*

A man with long brown hair is waiting for them outside the New Inn. He waves happily when he sees Bruno carrying the bags of costumes.

“Hi! You must be Bruno! I’m Hob Gadling, I’m a friend of Calliope’s.” Hob’s bright smile and sweet voice win the Madrigals over easily. When Bruno shakes his hand, he is surprised by Hob’s firm yet gentle hold.

“Your hands are warm,” Bruno notes. He winces at his own rudeness. Hob laughs.

“You’re the first to ever say that about my hands,” he says. “I assume that’s a compliment?”

Bruno nods, face red. “Yeah.”

“Calliope and Murphy are waiting inside with the birthday crew. Thankfully, only a few kids are coming so you won’t be overwhelmed!” Hob continues as he leads the family inside. He suddenly notices how many Madrigals there are.

“Uh… are they all coming in?” he asks.

Bruno glances at his family and turns back to Hob, smiling. “Is that ok with you? They, uh, want to see the performance.”

“That good of an entertainer, huh?” Hob says. “Alright, I guess Lyta won’t mind. She’s the mother of the birthday boy.”

Hob takes the Madrigals through the inn and into a big room with a small stage, where the party has already begun. A group of seven kids do arts and crafts at a long table, while the adults mingle.

True to Bruno’s words, the entire room looks like a cow’s hide. White balloons with black spots and black balloons with white spots are hung up in every corner. The table cloths and streamers have a similar pattern. A large banner reading “Happy 4th Birthday Daniel!” is hung up by the small stage, two cartoon cows drawn on either side. Even the cake is shaped like a cow.

A woman with lovely chestnut hair approaches Hob as the group enters. Clinging to her leg is a small boy with blond hair.

“Hob!” The woman’s smile fades when she notices everyone. “Who are they and why are they all here? They weren’t on the guest list!”

“It’s ok, Lyta, they’re with me!” another woman says, running up to him. Bruno recognizes her Greek accent immediately. “Hello, Bruno. It’s nice to meet you at last.”

Upon seeing her warm smile and lovely dark hair, Bruno relaxes. “Hola, Calliope. It’s nice to meet you in the flesh as well.”

“This is Lyta Hall, she’s running the party. And this is Daniel, our birthday boy,” Hob introduces. While Lyta waves, Daniel ducks his head.

“Lyta, this is Bruno, he’s from my online writing club!” Calliope says. “He’s the one with the crazy ‘cow’ getup I was talking about.”

“Can I see?” Lyta asks.

Bruno opens his suitcase. “Behold.”

Lyta’s eyes turn as big as saucers. “You weren’t kidding…”

“It’s going to be quite the experience,” Bruno laughs. “Agustín and Félix are dancing with me as well.” The men in question wave.

“And so are me and Dream!” Hob says. “Do you have our costumes?”

Bruno lifts up his own to show two packages underneath. Hob snorts when he sees them. “These look incredible! Dream, you have to come see this!” He turns to the corner of the room, where a man Bruno did not see before stands.

The partygoers have given him a large space to himself, wary of the stranger. The man is shrouded in the shadows, his body hidden in a black coat. His emotionless face is pale and cold and his black hair is untamed. The oddest part about him is his eyes. A strange shade of blue that seems to shine like… stars. Bruno feels a sense of familiarity. Who is this man?

As Dream slowly approaches him, Bruno shrinks under his magnificently intimidating gaze. Dream glances down at the costumes before looking up at the prophet. Immediately his expression softens. It is a look of wonder.

Bruno ducks to hide his terrified gaze. “Right. Is there a room where we can set up?” he asks, willing his voice not to shake.

“There’s an empty space across the hall, we can get ready there!” Hob says. “Come on!”

In the other room, Bruno hands each man his costume. Agustín struggles to get the police boots on his “hooves”, Félix slips on the construction worker cow’s safety vest.

Hob is practically jumping with joy when he sees the cowboy, er, cow’s outfit. He laughs as he puts on the vest and fixes his sheriff’s badge. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, but this has to be one of the greatest..”

“You’ll be the Aviator, Dream,” Bruno says, handing the strange man his costume.

“‘Aviator’?” Dream asks. His surprisingly deep baritone voice rumbles through the room. Bruno feels chills run down his back.

“Because Calliope said you didn’t want to be seen doing this, so I found a costume that could hide your face?” Bruno squeaks. “The goggles should be enough, right?”

Dream takes the costume and looks it through. “Very well.”

“Why are you doing this if you don’t want to be seen?” Félix asks. “This isn’t exactly a… subtle activity.”

“Because I have a duty to fulfill,” Dream answers simply. Félix shrugs and goes back to trying to cram the hard hat on his cow’s head.

Bruno . “Alright, we have an hour to rehearse this song. I assume you all know ‘YMCA’, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Hob asks.

Bruno hands them all sheet music. “I, uh, took some creative liberties with it.”

*

Back in the party room, the rest of the Madrigals have already assimilated themselves into the crowd. Isabela shows off her plant magic to some of the children, Antonio colours with Daniel while telling him all sorts of cow facts (only half of which the four-year-old understands), Lyta has gotten some wine with the mothers, who shower her and Dolores with advice on how to raise a kid.

Meanwhile, Luisa, Mirabel and Camilo find new friends in two special guests, the niece and nephew of Dream.

“Rainbow hair…” Mirabel breathes, gazing in awe at Rose Walker’s dreadlocks. Rose giggles.

“Oh yeah! I’ve thought about changing it up recently, but honestly, rainbow hair is so fun!” she admits.

Mirabel turns back to her mom, pointing at Rose’s hair and back at her own. Julieta shakes her head. Mirabel pouts.

“Worth a shot,” she mumbles. Rose laughs.

Luisa watches Rose with stars in her eyes, the bookworm excited to meet a real, published author in the flesh. “How long did it take you to write your manuscript?”

“About two months, actually. I got a surge of inspiration during the last week and finished it in time to send to a publisher looking for new works,” Rose explains. “Next thing I know, I’ve got a huge paycheck and several book reviewers telling me I’m the new Neil Gaiman.”

“Fantástica!” Luisa squeals.

“Do Spiderman next!” Jed Walker exclaims. Camilo shapeshifts into the superhero, doing a backflip.

“Don’t work the kid too hard, Jed!” Rose warns.

“I won’t!” Jed responds.

“Don’t worry, I can do this all day!” Camilo says, shapeshifting into Captain America. Jed howls with laughter.

“He says that but then he’ll sleep until noon tomorrow,” Mirabel says. Rose laughs again, but it fades as she notices something strange walking onto the stage.

“What on earth is that?” she asks. Mirabel turns around and immediately begins laughing.

Camilo shapeshifts back into himself and drags Jed closer to the stage. “Oh, you’re gonna want front-row seats for this!”

Daniel is led to the front of the audience. The kids gather around him, laughing at the funny cows. In the back, Pepa and Julieta are already shrieking with laughter, taking pictures of the costumed men on their phones.

Bruno stands centre stage in his fairy cow princess, looking as marvelous as ever with the sparkling pink gown, wings and tiara. Behind him stand a police officer, a construction worker, a cowboy and an aviator, all cows. Mirabel recognizes her father and Tío Félix as the police officer and construction worker respectfully, but are those Hob and Dream, Hob’s mysterious boyfriend, as the cowboy and the aviator? Even with aviator goggles covering his eyes, Dream’s sharp, white cheekbones are quite memorable and noticeable. Not to mention, she can’t see him anywhere in the room, so…

On stage, Hob keeps glancing at Dream. While this would usually flatter the Endless, right now it’s getting on his last nerve.

“Why do you keep looking at me?” Dream finally hisses.

“You look constipated, and I don’t want you to take it out on Bruno,” Hob whispers.

“I’m not going to send a nightmare after him. You don’t have to worry,” Dream says. “I’m just not looking forward to this.”

“You don’t have to do this, Dream,” Hob reminds him. “I asked several times if you wanted to back out, and every time, you’ve refused. Why?”

“Because it is my duty to visit the first baby born in the Dreaming every year on his birthday,” Dream states. “And even if that includes doing a ridiculous dance at his birthday party, so be it.”

Hob rolls his eyes. “That last part is a load of bull and you know it. Are you sure that’s why you’re doing it?”

Dream is silent.

Hob gives him a knowing smile. “You’ve grown to care for Daniel Hall and his crazy family, haven’t you? Is this about making the kid, and by extension, your new family, happy?”

Dream shrinks further into the giant cow head. Hob leans over to kiss his nose. 

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

Bruno grabs a microphone from an amused Isabela. “Hi kids! I’m Brumilkerbell, the Fairy Cow Princess of… Milkneyland, and these are my friends, the Village Cows!”

“Why do you have a beard?!” a kid in the audience yells.

“Why don’t you have a beard?!” Bruno snaps back. He takes a deep breath and smiles once more. “Today, we’re going to sing a special song all about your favourite drink! Can anyone guess what that is?”

“Wine!” Pepa yells.

“Pepa, there are kids in the audience, including your own.”

“So?!”

“So we’re going to be learning facts about an altogether different drink,” Bruno exclaims through teeth clenched. “I would like to thank Antonio Madrigal for helping me write some of the lyrics. Hit it!”

Dolores turns on the boombox. Brumilkerbell and the Village Cows begin tapping their hooves.

“Is it just me or is the tune familiar?” Julieta asks as she records.

“I’m pretty sure this is just YMCA,” Pepa says. “Did he change the lyrics?”

The cows swing their tails to the beat as the chorus kicks in.

It’s fun to drink a lot of M! I! L! K! It’s fun to drink a lot of M! I! L! K!

“Ohhhh…” the sisters say in unison.

The kids cheer for the exuberant performance, getting up and doing the dance with them. Most of the adults are laughing too hard to join, or film the performance. Daniel screams with glee as the cows swish their tails and pump their hooves in the air in an elaborate dance.

After the performance, the men sit at a table while Daniel opens his presents. Bruno has already fallen asleep, Agustín and Félix engage in a game of chinchon. Dream watches the sleeping Bruno from the side.

Hob arrives with drinks. Unlike the others, he has not taken off his cowboy cow costume. The fathers cheer until they see what’s in the wine glasses: milk.

“Oh come on, why the long faces?” Hob teases. “You heard Brumilkerbell up there, milk is chock full of vitamin B12!”

The Madrigal men glance at each other before shrugging and grabbing a glass. Félix grabs an extra for when Bruno wakes up. Hob moves onto Dream.

“What are you thinking about?” Hob asks, handing the Sandman his milk.

“That family has magic,” Dream says. “That’s why they feel so different.”

Hob raises an eyebrow. “Magic? You’re only figuring this out now?”

“You knew?”

“I mean, Bruno Madrigal is a lyrical genius! How could I not know about his music-writing magic?!”

Dream gives his boyfriend a small smile. “Not that kind of magic, Hob. Real magic. Each of them has a small portion of magic, dedicated to one type of spell. They call them Gifts.”

Hob looks amazed. “Really? How did I not notice that?”

“I don’t think they trust us enough to show us,” Dream admits. “I’m surprised they’ve been able to hide it for so long.”

“Should we tell them we know? Does Calliope know?”

“Let’s not tell them, for now. Calliope has had her suspicions since she met Bruno. She asked me to confirm today, and Lucienne has just sent me the report.”

“Your librarian rules.”

“I know. I shall send her your compliments.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?”

“You asked.”

“Smartass.”

*

As the kids sleep upstairs in the inn, the grownups decide to have a little more wine to wind down for the night.

“I can’t believe my youngest son actually helped Bruno write that song,” Pepa says.

“Well, it wasn’t easy,” Bruno says. “It took the better part of a week and half a dozen Google searches.”

“How were you not sweating bullets up there? I was getting hot just looking at you,” Julieta says.

“Oh believe me, I was getting hot,” Agustín says. “You weren’t kidding, hermano, these costumes are stuffy as hell!”

“Luckily for you, this is where the fun part comes in,” Hob says, standing up. “Dolores, ma’am, where’s your boombox?!”

Mirabel stumbles downstairs, her throat parched and stomach rumbling. She should not have had that much cake. Her head pricks up slightly as she hears music and shrieking from down the hall. Curious, she walks down to investigate. 

When she peers into the room, the sight is enough to wake her up. Bruno, Agustín, Félix and Hob all managed to get the clothes off the cow jumpsuits, and are currently in the middle of slowly taking off the jumpsuits themselves. Dios mio, she can see their hairy chests.

The women, her abuela included, whoop and whistle at the strippers, all clearly tipsy.

Dolores, hearing her cousin gasping in horror, pauses the music. All heads turn to the 16-year-old gaping in the doorway.

Bruno is the first to find his words. “Hey, Mariposa! What do you need?”

“I was considering getting a glass of milk, but I think I’ll hold off until I can get this image out of my mind. Buenas noches.” Mirabel awkwardly exits, wondering how this day went from YMCA parodies to strip-teasing cows.

#disney encanto #bruno madrigal #mirabel madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #the sandman #the sandman neil gaiman #lord morpheus #hob gadling #rose walker #jed walker #calliope sandman #apparently i can write #immabethehero #man this is a bitch to tag #dream of the endless #agustin madrigal #felix madrigal #lyta trevor-hall #encantober

[smieska-draws]

Hello. How are you and your health? Well... in general... I wanted to ask a few questions. 1 - When did you learn to draw and why did you want to do it? 2 - What are your favorite hobbies? 3 - When did you get to know Undertale and Deltarune? 4 - What are your favorite characters of these two games? 5 - How do you feel about such ships as Asrisk and Krilsei?

oh butts I only just saw this ;0;' sorry for the delay!

I'm doing alright, 'cautiously optimistic' is more like it...!

1 - I've always been attracted to making things and seeing how things are made. I remember always looking in awe as a kid when my dad would open up the VHS player to clean it and he would show me how it worked.

So naturally, I kinda just always stuck with drawing because I loved reading comics, I would doodle in class, flipbooks, all that good stuff. I started "taking it seriously" (ex: became obsessed with digimon) at like.. 13 or something, as you do. I lived in the middle of nowhere in the 2000s with primitive internet so I had to teach myself how to draw. I remember constantly taking out the only book on artist anatomy in the library several times.. deviantart tutorials were starting to pop up so mid 2000s there were some of those... But it was pretty much just through observation and making my friends pose for me while I drew lol (I have a whole can of worms about that but oop i won't rant)

2- Bringing back the 'creating of things', I low key scold myself everytime I get invested in a new craft. I really wish crafts were more appreciated instead of it being seen as an old lady or kid thing.. So I enjoy a lot of crafts!!! Sewing, embroidery, painting, MAKING paint, making paper/bookbinding, beading, crocheting, stained glass, cooking/baking, so many damn things. My absolute favourite types of videos to watch are the 'making sculptures out of trash', or restorations (paintings, consoles or old things) just.. HNG. CREATING STUFF AND SEEING HOW THERE'S MADE. AAA 😔👌

3 - When it initially blew up lol it came out in September 2015, I was visiting back home and just enjoying autumn, but my tumblr dashboard was getting inundated with two cartoon skeletons and something about spaghetti? So in October I went back to my apartment and thought 'huh ok lets give it a shot i guess', BAM. heart full, tears wept. Gote boi hugged.

Deltarune was more of a surprise lol Since that day before halloween in 2018, the undertale twitter was being cryptic so I thought it was going to be a Gaster reveal or something. Nope, he just ... dropped a whole ass game on halloween. Amazing. I remember zooming home in the rain after work to play it. I thought it was a troll by Toby, like he saw all the endless AUs being made and decided as a joke he'd make his own AU. But... the game kept going and I thought, 'ok this is too elaborate to be a prank omg' ALSO, seeing Ralsei all cloaked up and mysterious, i sus'd him out IMMEDIATELY (mainly because my fav is Asriel and YOU KNOW the first thing i did was hug Ralsei because i cried like a baby in undertale) The one thing I wanted from undertale was for Asriel to be by your side and supporting you (instead of being a sneaky soulless flower) and HELL YEAH I GOT MY WISH. AAAA

5 - meh I've never been a shipper of any kind. Even when I have 2 characters do a thing together that people immediately go 'OMG HAVE THEM KISS' i'm just like '??? no ??? they're very close friends, are they not allowed' idk idk i feel like i'm on the outside of things like that. I personally despise labels and I just like to play with characters and their different personalities, stories and stuff. Its like playing in a sandbox.

#smii tries not to rant

[mcmoddity]

2, 4, 6, 21 for that artist ask game :>

2. Is it easier to draw someone facing left or right (or forward even)

Honestly for me any way is pretty much the same? The years I did comics pushed me to constantly draw characters from various angles to keep the panels interestng, so due to that I think it doesn't matter if it's left or right.

Frontfacing is hands-down the most boring one for me, though!

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

Kari, but specifically in her mainverse leather armour. Which I rarely draw because it always looks so clunky in comparison to her magician's robes LMAO.

It's fine tho she can just cast Iron Skin on herself for protection when my group accidentally pisses off yet another undead dragon.

6. Anything that might inspire you subconsciously (i.e. this horse wasn't supposed to look like the Last Unicorn but I see it)

Over two decades of tabletop RPG sessions, if I had to take a guess! The stories I've crafted with my group inspire me to this day.

Examples being Kari existing in all her AU forms due to our (still ongoing) campaign I made her for, but also Myran & Silvia having made their start in separate campaigns and later on evolved outside of those into the creations they are today.

I have other (unknown here online) characters from even more campaigns that have been woven into one big story all these years after their original run ended, as well! Perhaps one day they'll get to peek outside of my hard drive.

21. Art styles nothing like your own but you like anyways

Super painterly ones, where you can almost feel the thickness of paint and the strokes of a brush even if it's digital!

I have this mental disconnect where trying to replicate that feeling in an art program never tickles my personal fancy just right because I've always painted using my bare fingers, so not actually feeling the acrylics clumping on my skin just wigs me out.

But that just makes it so much more impressive when others can pull it off, in my eyes! Art so good it makes me wanna stroke my screen sensually. Lovingly. Tenderly. I love art. (Link to the ask meme with these questions here!)

#McReplies #miru667 #art make-a the mcmod the happy #ask meme

[captain-ozone]

Mid-Year Book Freakout Tag

I'm super late!!! It's Aug 8, 2023, and since BookTok/BookTube intimidates me, I'm posting here.

I've read/listened to 72 books/audiobooks this year so far, so here we go! Credit for the tag goes to BookTubers Chami and Earl Grey Books.

Best book you've read in 2023: "Best" and "Favorite" are two very different things. If I remove the emotional components and sheer feral love I have for certain books and look at it from a "craft" standpoint, the answer is probably Tomorrow & Tomorrow & Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin or Babel by RF Kuang.

Best sequel you've read in 2023: GOLDEN SON BY PIERCE BROWN. Red Rising has me by a chokehold and by god does Golden Son hit all of my checkboxes.

New release you haven't read yet but want to: A Day of Fallen Night by Samantha Shannon. I still have yet to read Priory of the Orange Tree too. I'm waiting for the former to go paperback so I can match the Priory copy I have lol.

Most anticipated release for the second half of 2023: A few weeks ago the answer to this question was Light Bringer (book 6 of Red Rising). But I've since read it (AND IT WAS SO GOOD), lol. As of today, the answer is Ruthless Vows by Rebecca Ross.

Biggest surprise: Nettle & Bone by T. Kingfisher. I listened to this audiobook from my library on a whim, and I just fell in LOVE with Kingfisher's untraditional heroine and the capacity she has to invent her own fairytales from the bones of others.

Biggest disappointment: Swordheart by T. Kingfisher. After Nettle & Bone, I had the munchies for more of T. Kingfisher's work. Swordheart isn't bad, I guess, but I definitely did not find the same level of enjoyment here that I did from Nettle & Bone.

Favorite new author (new to you or new debut): PIERCE BROWN HANDS DOWN

Newest fictional crush: Idk if I have one, tbh. Better question is who my newest blorbo is. That honor goes to Darrow of Lykos, Sevro au Barca, and Lyria of Lagalos, all from the Red Rising series.

Newest favorite character: Oh. I forgot this was a question. LOL. Still, I somehow have a different answer for this one than I do "favorite blorbo." Newest favorite character is Tress from Brandon Sanderson's Tress of the Emerald Sea. I found her so relatable and likable.

A book that made me cry: Will I ever read a book by TJ Klune that doesn't hurt so good? I read Under the Whispering Door this year, and I honestly think I'd recommend it to anyone. It's soul-food at its finest. Jade Legacy (Book 3 of the Green Bone Saga) is another that had me sobbing.

A book that made me happy: TRESS!! Genuinely such a wholesome story inspired by The Princess Bride. You don't need to read any of Sanderson's other works to appreciate this one. It's so sweet and fun.

Most beautiful book you bought/received as a gift: All of Brandon Sanderson's Secret Project Kickstarter editions have been stunning, but Yumi and the Nightmare Painter is next level. If we don't get an anime/manga adaptation, I may lose my mind.

The book(s) I need to finish before the end of the year: Lol, too many. My TBR is extensive and ever-growing, and I often go through my TBR in a pretty chaotic way. As in, I have a lengthy list on hold via my 3 different library cards on Libby. xD I think the only thing I for SURE want to read is ACOTAR. I'm sick of feeling left out, lol. I did Throne of Glass via audiobook, so ACOTAR is the next on the docket. I'm definitely planning to read that one with my physical copies because I heard there's more spice, and I've decided spice via audiobook is really, really weird. Don't really dig it.

ANYWAY, please feel free to fill out and tag me! I say "my TBR is extensive" like it exhausts me and I can't possibly suffer any more, but I WANT MORE OKAY???

#bookblr #mid year book freak out tag #books #reading #book recommendations

[campfires-ghostly-forest]

Ghostly Campfires Au

Characters relationships with each other

FAMILY

Will - Johnathan

They're quite close!... And there wasn't many other ghosts to talk to, so they kinda had to be.

Mike - Nancy

They don't talk often, especially outside of camp. Nancy being there is the main reason Mike's attending camp- but it's not like he'd ever tell her that. They miss each other and get on each other's nerves, but they try to talk when they can.

CLOSE FRIENDS

Steve - Robin

Telling each other almost everything- and knowing things about the other they were technically never told, -the two are really close. With their frequent meaningless competitions, they might even fit the PLAYFUL RIVALRIES category.

Steve - Dustin

Steve basically adopted Dustin the second they met, and Dustin accepts that. Dustin tells him nerd shit and Steve pretends to understand. But yeah, they've probably committed crime together.

Eddie - Chrissy

Sure, Eddie was scared as all hell the second he saw a motherfucking GHOST, but she quickly calmed him down. It was still scary. Even though that incident happened, the two got kinda close.

Dustin - Lucas - Mike

Childhood friends, and it doesn't look like their friendship is gonna change any time soon. Oh yeah and they communicate feelings more and are overall nicer to each other than whatever canon them have going on.

Eddie - Dustin

Ah yes, Dustin's other father. Dustin keeps being adopted. He also thinks Eddie is cool as shit so that's nice. These two have also probably committed crime together.

Max - Eleven

Max had a crush on El at one point, but it didn't last long (and she never even acted on it). They have a lot of fun together, El teaches Max how to do some various arts and crafts-type activities and Max teaches El easy ways to shoplift. It's a good trade.

Max - Lucas

Lucas says nerd shit and Max is only HALF pretending to understand! They've also written stories together!

Nancy - Johnathan

They both had a crush on the other at one point. They both know this and actively make fun of the other for it. They're chill about it and genuinely just find it funny, they're just friends and that's not gonna change.

Chrissy - Nancy

Another two that could be put in the PLAYFUL RIVALRY section. They're both very kind to each other, but jokingly insult each other at least twice a day. Neither of them are actually hurt by it, and it's not even a genuine insult that could actually hurt the others feelings, even if said seriously.

Eddie - Will

I'm giving yall the "Eddie meets Will and instantly takes him under his wing" yall wanted before s4v2. Eddie adopts Will a little too.

Dustin - Will

Both because Eddie's Will-Adoption and because of how close Mike and Will are, Dustin's gotten pretty close with him too! They talk about nerd shit together. Dustin keeps him updated on shows Will can't watch because he's kinda busy hiding in a forest and being a ghost.

POSSIBLE DATING/ROMANCE-Y RELATIONSHIPS

I'm not 100% sure these are going to be in this, just concepts. You're welcome gays.

Mike - Will

So yall know the part in season 4 when Mike says he loved El ever since that moment he found her in the woods? Just realized I accidentally had that happen but with Will this time, and with a ghost instead of someone with psychic abilities. Mike has a type I guess. Anyway Mike met Will and they started hanging out a lot, Mike not even noticing he likes Will for the longest time and Will pining for months.

Steve - Eddie

Gay fathers. Light rivalry and homoerotic tension. Yall remember that one time Eddie pinned Steve to a wall with a bottle at his throat? Because shit like that might happen (far more jokingly) and I swear if it happens one more time we can get Steve out of the questioning step. it's 100% valid to be in the questioning portion of queerness but guys trust me this'll work-

Robin - Nancy

Robin saw ghosts and the panic was only 70% due to queerness, which is new for her! Robin thinks Nancy is cool and amazing, Nancy thinks Robin is awkward as hell but in an endearing, cute way.

PLAYFUL RIVALRIES

Steve - Johnathan (?)

Nobody's 100% sure if it's a playful rivalry. Steve's competitive in general, Johnathan not so much, but Johnathan is still extremely competitive against Steve. Either they don't like each other or they're REALLY good at doing whatever bit this is, because WOW everyone's confused. Steve actually knew Johnathan before he died, and just thought he moved away or something. (Johnathan also slightly caused Steve's sexuality crisis.)

Will - Eleven

They're great friends, just make little competitive games to do when bored. Far less of a rivalry than whatever Steve and Johnathan have going on.

Nancy - Will

Nancy spent quite a bit of her time making sure Will wouldn't be lonely or sad due to the whole ghost thing and lack of people to talk to, so they'd play a lot of games against each other, quickly forming a rivalry. Never play any competitive game with them.

Steve - Lucas

Lucas is one of the stronger kids, so Steve ends up doing quite a bit of more physical activities with him, which means a lot of sports. They do competitive sport things idk I don't do sports.

Mike - Robin

The two weren't really close before the camp fully met the ghosts, their conversations mainly just being Robin letting Mike rant about his interests- and literally whatever he wanted to rant about, because boy does Robin know what that's like. Though, the two got much closer after they all met the ghosts and Mike noticed Robin's queer panic caused by Nancy. Mike then asked about it, and continued to (lovingly/p) make fun of her.

So there's that I guess.

#stranger things #stranger things au #the ghostly campfires au #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #dustin henderson #chrissy cunningham #will byers #johnathan byers #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #ronance #steddie #byler #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #eleven stranger things

[alphawave-writes]

Prophets and Messengers Chapter 4: Beyond Taste

Synopsis: Sigma must perform the ritual and say goodbye to Harold. But can he really commit to losing the love of his life? And does he have the guts to confess his love before it's too late?

Read it here on or AO3. You guys can also find me on twitter @alphawave13.

If you like my writing, please do support me by buying me a ko-fi, becoming a patron on Patreon or requesting a commission from me.

-

It took some time for Sigma to get everything he needed for the ritual. It could have taken a much shorter time, but the townsfolk were whispering now of the dangerous criminal Dr. Wen. There was now a story to the name, of a man who rose to incredible heights but flew too close to the sun, of a degenerate who used humans and animals as test subjects for his cruel experiments, of a deviant who betrayed his former employer to wreak havoc upon the lands of Oasis. It was a complete fabrication, but it was enough to keep Harold put at the temple, afraid to venture outside.

"They don't know Dr. Wen is you," Sigma said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"But they don't know it's not me," Harold sighed. "Look, I might dress like the people, but it's obvious I'm not from these parts. It didn't take long for people to put two and two together that I'm a foreigner."

"You seem to underestimate the idiocy of the people around us. We have time. It's fine."

Harold lowered his head. The sound of his hands rubbing together nervously made Sigma frown.

"Don't tell me…"

"One of the guards figured out," Harold morosely said.

Sigma felt his heart lurch in his chest. "And…did they say anything?"

"No," he uttered. "They're not going to do anything. It's our little secret. But the fact that he figured it out isn't reassuring. It won't be long before luck and faith runs dry, and I'm strung up for all eternity."

It was a relief that Harold was safe for now, but that brought a new problem. "You know someone needs to go to town to get the last ingredient."

"Can't you ask one of the guards then?"

"They don't have any connection to magic, either innately, learned, or by the generosity of the spirits. People like us are a rarity." Most people learned magic through intensive learning. Few had such natural, innate ability like Harold. Even fewer gained their powers through a pact with the spirits. "Even if they knew what to look for, they won't be able to sense if it's genuine or a dud."

"And just what is it do they need to look for anyway?"

"Aqua vitae ," Sigma turned to Harold. "You might know it as aqueous ethanol."

"Sigma, I'm an alchemist, of course I know what aqua vitae is." Harold frowned. "Does it have to be pure?"

Sigma nodded. "The slightest imperfection will ruin the spell. The person who wrote the original spell was very specific about this detail. Though your spell differs slightly from the texts, by my calculations, I too will need it to be pure."

"But I can't go out there. They'll arrest me," Harold said.

"I know," Sigma grumbled. "I'll have to do it."

"But you're still blind. No amount of spirits and magic can cure that. Not even mine. Not for how long you're going to be out."

"It'll be the first time I've went to town since I found this temple." His lips dipped into a frown. "I must admit, it's been so long I almost forgot how the markets looked like, and what it felt like to be around people." Quieter, he said, "I wonder if they still remember me for the monster I was, and the destruction I brought. I wouldn't blame them." 

Harold tutted his lips slightly, and then he reached out for Sigma's hand. He traced symbols on Sigma's palm, golden energy seeping from his touch, painting the pale skin. From this brief touch, Sigma felt warmth filter through his body as Harold's emotions—happiness, discontent, love—flooded Sigma's mind. He wished he could transmit his own feelings as easily as Harold transmitted his. He knew all the twists and turns in Harold's mind by now, where to go to see exactly the thoughts and feelings when they sprung up. But it didn't work the other way around. Sigma had tried to bridge the gap, to reveal more of himself and his past, but he could never open himself so fully and so willingly as Harold did. If he did, would Harold still love him? Even after all the atrocities he'd caused in the past? 

Harold finished, and Sigma felt a strange sigil emblazoned on his hand, pulsating slowly. Harold lifted his own hand to reveal an identical sigil, its own unique energy throbbing with every bit of blood that pumped around his body. "Tracker spell," Harold explained. "If you get yourself lost or in danger, we'll find each other. Just think of me and the path to me will reveal itself, no eyesight required."

Sigma traced the sigil with his fingers, trying to remember its shape and texture. As he reared his head up, a sudden thought intruded into his mind. He wanted to kiss Harold. He wanted to hold him close, and press their lips together, and sink into a bottomless abyss. But he couldn't. Harold may have said they were soulmates, but even that simple fact wouldn't stop them from drifting away. A spell like this wouldn't help when they're hundreds of miles away, separated by distance and time.

Sigma went to his bedroom and dressed himself inconspicuously for his trip to town. A robe over his body, some feet coverings, and a shawl for good measure. His bandana was removed and left on a dresser, his scarred eyes barely hidden by a dark head covering. It wouldn't hide his identity from everyone, but it might be enough to let him go through the town without attracting too much attention. He bid farewell to Harold, who surprised him with a kiss on the cheek, and then drifted away before Sigma could even say anything, let alone reciprocate. As Sigma left, the noises of clothes and items stuffed into crates reminded him that this happiness was only temporary, and that Harold's departure was imminent.

He walked through the town, trying to blend in with the locals, but it was obvious that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Without his bandana, he could see the shapes shift and twist, of heads turning in his direction in curiosity, or perhaps fear. He was tall, and he was pale, and he did not belong. No amount of clothes could cover that. A wave of panic made his lungs constrict as he remembered the last time he tried to hide in the crowd, hours after his escape from Talon as he tried to weave his way through the markets in search of safety. His mind shifted, the oppressive darkness of an old memory fading away, the golden light of Harold's form replacing it.

Funny how just thinking about Harold used to get him so pent up, and now it gave him comfort. A small smile flickered on his lips like lightning.

Soon, Sigma found his way to a market stall. It was inconspicuous, nestled between two more popular shops, but for the few mystics in town, it was well known for supplying the best (though not necessarily most legal) products for magic and spells. The owner had not moved his stall since Sigma's last visit, which was a relief. What was not so much of a relief was the new owner; the son of the first owner. He had a lighter voice and a smaller gait, and much sharper features. They tried to sweettalk the other citizens as they tried to hurry on by, but it wasn't working. His voice wasn't as smooth and soothing as Harold's.

No voice could compare with Harold's, Sigma idly thought.

The younger shopkeeper turned to Sigma and chuckled. "I finally get to see you, dear Oracle."

Sigma frowned. "I don't believe we've met," he said in the Iraqi tongue, wincing at his atrocious attempt at the local dialect. He needed to practice more often.

"Your assistant has been to my shop many times, and each time he always tells me stories about you." There was excitement in his voice. "Is it true that you command the spirits?"

"I am here for aqua vitae,” Sigma ignored the comment.

“Yes, yes, Charon sent a message to me earlier. Told me to expect you. I have it here, ready and waiting for you, sir.”

Sigma took the flask the shopkeeper offered and glanced at it. There was a faint magical energy around it, playing a little melody that Sigma recognised. These melodies were like signatures, and this melody was in perfect memory, exactly how he remembered it sounding when he was a fresh-faced scientist. There was no doubt about it. It was pure aqua vitae , bottled and ready for use.

As Sigma counted the amount of coins he needed to pay, he suddenly realized how long Harold had stayed with him. It was short, but it felt far longer than that, like years instead of a month. He almost forgot Charon was the name he went by with most people. He forgot that the name Harold was a special privilege that Sigma alone could wield.

He couldn’t stop the tiny little smile from creeping up his face. The shopkeeper noticed. “He likes you,” he commented.

Sigma bristled. “I-I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Aww, don’t be shy, it’s fine. It’s cool. Love transcends all barriers, don’t it?”

Sigma blushed. He wished love could transcend any barrier, but it wouldn't transcend the barrier that was distance and time. Nothing could. “Perhaps he does,” Sigma finally said.

The shopkeeper grinned. “Does he know you like him too?”

“It’s a bit more than like, and no, he does not know. There’s no reason to tell him. He will be leaving soon.”

“Isn’t that the best time to tell him then?”

Sigma opened his mouth but didn’t have a rebuttal planned. Instead, he paid the man the money he was owed.

The shopkeeper bowed. “Think about what I said, Oracle. I’d hate to lose a paying customer, and I’d especially hate to see you both leave without saying goodbye properly.”

The rest of the journey back to the temple, Sigma just stared at his hand, marveling at the sigil that Harold had crafted for him. The spell was potent, golden waves highlighting the way back home. As he walked, Sigma realised that Harold had done more for him than he did for Harold. He had to amend that mistake. If he could not prove his affection in words, then he shall reveal it with his actions.

The journey to the temple was fortunately uneventful, apart from the few whispers about Dr. Wen. Harold was by the entrance, lips pulled into a smile, but Sigmadid not stop to say hello to Harold. Instead, he beckoned him to the inner most chamber of the temple. A room that even Sigma himself rarely entered.

The prayer room was a hot spot of magical energy. It was so strong that Sigma would often lose the spirits to the many others that inhabited this room. A lot of these other spirits were trapped demons, stored in eternally burning candles that never melted. Others were house spirits, meant to protect the priests and priestesses and their charges. A few were drawn here by the spirits at Sigma's command, hoping perhaps to feed on his mind once Sigma's pact broke. Hot spots like these were rare things, due to the constant movement of the spirits within their realm. Part of Sigma's research had been into the formation of magic hot spots such as this one, but the last time he tried to form one, he ended up losing his eyesight and gaining powers beyond his mortal understanding.

Even with the magic the spirits gave him, it wouldn’t be enough for this spell. Sigma could only perform it here, where the magic was strongest. It gave him the greatest chance of success.

It also gave him the greatest chance of Harold dying if he failed.

Harold put his hand out in front of him, feeling the ebb and flow of the spirit realm’s energy. He drew the tiniest portion in, observing it as it travelled through his body before releasing it.

“I can see why I’ve never seen you in this room before,” Harold chuckled nervously.

Sigma frowned, but concentrated his powers to make the correct summoning circle. The spirits knew what it was, and they had no reason not to betray him. They would be feasting on Harold’s life force. They’d never hunger again, if they did their job correctly.

“This is really happening. You’re going to be making me mortal,” Harold whispered. He didn’t sound happy. In fact, he sound utterly depressed.

“You cannot doubt yourself. This is what you wanted.”

“I…I know this is what I wanted, but I…” Harold trailed off.

Sigma sighed quietly as he approached Harold. He placed his hand on Harold’s shoulder, rubbing it slowly. “I understand this is frightening.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…when I first sought you out I had nothing to live for. All my loved ones will die while I lived on, I’d never get to live in peace because I’d always be chased to the ends of the earth. But then I found you, and suddenly there was something worth living for." He took Sigma's hands into his own. "You reminded me that there's beauty in the world. That every day we live is a gift, and I shouldn't squander the gift I've been given. And…and something else."

Sigma felt Harold's breath on his cheek and realised they had both leaned in unconsciously, centimetres away from each other's faces. "W-what is this something else?"

"You know already." Harold's lips twitched into a frown. "Do I really have to spell it out to you?"

Sigma wanted to say no, but that would be a lie. The strings between their bodies had reappeared, pulsating with energy. Sigma plucked one, but instead of that familiar feeling of hands on his most sensitive parts, now he felt something else. Something soft and malleable, pressing against his lips. If he opened his mouth, he might even taste something sweet flicker around the cavern of his mouth before plunging deep into his throat. It'd taste magnificent, like the nectar of the gods.

Harold let go of Sigma's hands, only for his fingers to creep up the fabric of his bodysuit. His palms were flat against Sigma's chest, their magical energies swirling and spiraling.

Sigma felt his throat constrict. "You…you can't."

"I'm sorry," Harold whispered.

"You have to go after this, I…I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you."

"It's not about whether either of us deserve it or not. I want you. I need you." He stroked Sigma's face. "Please, Siebren. One more time, before I go."

Sigma so wanted to give in to Harold's touch. In another life, maybe he could. In this life however, he gently guided the hands down, letting Harold's emotions and memories fade away from his mind. "W-we cannot. I cannot. We have a ritual to perform, and…and if you don't want me to do it, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Harold stared at Sigma for several seconds, and then several more.

"Harold?" Sigma whispered.

"I thought...I thought you wanted me too. I thought we were soulmates." The golden energy that surrounded his body dimmed slightly. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

"Harold..."

"Do it then, the spell," he said. His voice was completely devoid of life. "Make me mortal."

Sigma frowned. "Are you su—"

"I said, do it." His voice crackled with emotion. "Just…just do it already and I'll get out of your hair. That's what I hired you to do anyway, isn't it?"

Sigma knew this was wrong, but he had to live with it now. He ordered Harold to stand in the centre of the salt circle, let the spirits flow their magic through his body, closed his eyes, and began the chant.

The candles and items that he had prepared began to rattle, his tongue rattling off words in Dutch. The spell could work in any language, but he had to recall the spell perfectly with no flaws or stutters. He'd practiced and practiced until his throat was sore, and he knew he could perform it perfectly. If Harold broke the salt circle, Harold would be fine but the trapped demons would leave and the room would lose its magical essence and they'd never be able to perform the spell again. If Sigma faltered, the room would keep its essence, but the trapped demons would attack, taking as much life essence as their starving mouths would muster.

Harold followed along with Sigma, chanting when asked to, performing certain actions when ordered to, but he did it all without his usual vigour. Sigma tried not to falter, but he couldn't help but think about the consequences. If he succeeded in this spell, Harold would leave. If he failed the spell, Harold would be dead or he'd leave. He tried to consult the spirits and get a glimpse into his own future, but they remained silent, refusing to give him even an offer.

Sigma was trapped to a life of loneliness, and he could not live like this again. Not when Harold brightened up the desolate hallways, making the temple smell and feel and taste like a home. Not when Harold kept him warm in the inside and out, making him feel safe and loved.

Everything was beginning to rattle. The spirits had emerged, in plain view despite Sigma's blindness, flitting about the room in a circle, obeying Sigma's command. On Sigma's order, they'll feast on Harold's lifestream, and on Sigma's order they'll retreat, taking just enough for Harold to live the rest of his natural life, give and take a year according to Sigma's calculations.

It was just one action. One thing to do. This action will determine the course of their lives forever.

"Sigma?" Harold asked.

There was a spot of wetness underneath Sigma's bandana, dripping down to stain his cheeks. His throat felt tight and his muscles screamed for him to stop. But why? Why couldn't he do it? Why couldn't he make Harold mortal? Why couldn't he just let Harold drift out of orbit, never to be heard or felt again?

This wasn't what Harold wanted. Was this what Sigma wanted?

"Siebren?" Harold whispered.

Sigma felt the world shatter around him, and then he stepped forward, displacing the salt circle and breaking the spell. Harold cowered as the spirits let out a deathly screech, angry at this betrayal, but Sigma used his magic to summon a barrier between them. The spirits tried to attack, but they weren't quick enough, Sigma deploying and redeploying the barrier, taking in beat after beat of destructive energy. After a minute of this relentless onslaught, the demons left the chamber, leaving it hollow but safe. The hot spot was no more.

Sigma huffed a breath in exertion, and then he heard the sound of Harold's footsteps approaching him. He expected Harold to grab him and push him to the wall, pressing his hands into Sigma's broad shoulders. He did not expect it to hurt as much as it did.

"W-why did you do that?"

"I-I couldn't do it. I couldn't let you be mortal."

"But why?" Harold asked.

"Because I…I…" Sigma grunted, unable to speak as more tears flowed down his cheeks. He suddenly knew why it was so hard to open up. He was scared of what Harold would see beneath the surface, scared that Harold might hate him. Fear had constricted him like a python, making him weak and foolish. That was what it was, wasn't it? He was weak, and foolish, and totally undeserving of the warm radiant light that was Harold Winston.

Harold's hands were on his face, pulling the bandana up to look at his tearful eyes. "Tell me," he whispered.

"I…" Sigma knew he couldn't say it in words. But maybe he could show it in another way. Slowly he cradled Harold's face, letting his fingers feel his nose, his eyelids, his maddening little stubble, and then finally his lips.

He loved Harold, he thought to himself, as he leaned forward and pressed a slow kiss to Harold's lips.

Harold gasped, not expecting the intrusion but not fighting it either, his lips parting to let his tongue peek out, slithering to the slit between Sigma's lips, pushing it open. Within the cavern of Sigma's mouth, he flicked his tongue to the roof, behind his teeth, trailing every sensitive part reverently. Sigma didn't hold back, gasping into Harold's kiss. He wanted—no, needed Harold to know what he felt. Harold needed to know everything about him. He couldn't hide anymore.

Sigma suddenly grabbed Harold by the shoulders, flipping them over so that he was pressing Harold into the wall instead. Harold moaned, his own hands trailing down Sigma's chest, past his stomach to cup his groin. He was crying too, and Sigma kissed Harold's salty tears away. He wanted to remember Harold's taste, Harold's texture, Harold's scent. The way he moaned lowly and the way he looked and the way he felt so perfectly in his arms. He wanted to remember it all, he needed to remember it all. He loved him too much.

"I love you," Harold said suddenly, making Sigma moan shamefully.

"D-don't," Sigma whimpered.

"You love me too," Harold said, awestruck.

Sigma nodded quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't want you to go."

"Then come with me," he breathed.

Sigma blinked rapidly, his eyes clouded with tears. "I…how?"

Harold dug his hand into a secret pocket of his robes and took it out for Sigma to see. Even from this close, Sigma couldn't see the contents very well, but there was a huge amount of magical energy surrounding it, a haunting melody that defied all description. Sigma had never encountered such a thing in his life, but somehow he knew instantly what it was. The elixir of immortality. A potion for eternal life.

His eyes widened. "H-Harold…"

"Be immortal with me," Harold whispered. "We can be together forever. We'll never be apart."

"No…" Sigma whispered.

"We'll explore the world, I'll guide you along. I'll tell you what everything looks like. We can be together, we can do anything, and if it doesn't work out, we can start all over again."

"Do you really think you can love me for eternity?"

"I know I will," Harold said quietly. "I've seen you for who you are." He wiped a stray tear from Sigma's cheek with his thumb. "You keep forgetting I'm magical, Siebren. I can see into your mind too. I've seen the work you did as a scientist, the royals you worked for, the lives you helped. I've seen the ritual that cost you your sight, the way you flew too close to the sun in the pursuit of discovery. I know you fought tooth and nail to escape your tormentors, who sought to use your powers for evil. I know you care what others think about you, and I know you care about me."

"I'm scared," Sigma admitted. "I'm not the great Oracle the people think I am. I used to be great, back when I was Siebren, but I'm not that man anymore. I'm old, and I'm blind, and I'm fragile, and I'm weak. I don't deserve your love, and I don't deserve immortality."

"But you love me?" Harold breathed.

"Of course I do," Sigma whispered, equally as breathless. "For as long as I breathe, I will love you. But I can't accept your gift. And as much as I would love to, I can't run away with you."

Harold's eyes went cloudy as he stared at Sigma's lips. "So…so what do we do then?" He asked quietly.

Sigma felt Harold's cheek. "We remember each other. One last time."

Harold lowered his head but nodded. "One more time."

Harold moved to touch Sigma, but Sigma used his powers to pull Harold's hands above his head, returning the elixir of immortality back into Harold's pocket. He felt Harold's robes, trailing down to the edge near the bottom, exposing Harold's half-hard cock. He squirmed slightly in surprise, but didn't make a sound as Sigma captured his lips once again, his hand wrapping around the shaft and sliding up and down slowly. Sigma wanted to prolong this as much as he could. He wanted to remember Harold.

There was an explosive wave of emotions as Harold kissed back passionately, mitigating Sigma's powers long enough to wrap his arms tightly around Sigma's shoulders. Unlike before where it was a heap of emotions that overwhelmed Sigma's senses, now there were only two: sadness and love. The strings reappeared before their bodies and with his other hand, Sigma stroked them. Their bodies shivered at the same time as warm fingers trailed down the small of their back. As Harold panted, small begs and moans spilling eagerly, Sigma knew they were feeling the same thing. Their minds were truly one now.

Sigma played the strings like a harp, and a wave of hands—Harold's hands—touched his ass, pressing their slick heat into his puckered hole. Harold inhaled sharply, lips pulled up into a tight smile as the same thing happened to him.

"What do you feel?" Sigma asked, even though he knew exactly what Harold was feeling.

"Hot," Harold breathed. "Glorious. Ecstatic." He let out a small gasp as the invisible fingers breached past the band of muscle. " Everything ."

Sigma couldn't help but smile through the tears as he stroked the strings, letting the phantom hands caress their bodies and press their fingers further into their ass. Like their owners, the hands were hungry, pinching and twisting nipples, rubbing thighs and cocks, pressing lightly against their throats. Sigma captured Harold's lips again, and again, trails of saliva spilling down to Sigma's hand, which was still stroking Harold's cock at a moderate pace, spreading precum. It was so much at once, but Sigma relished in this feeling. For Harold, he'd give anything and everything. He was sure that Harold knew that too.

Sigma knew Harold was close, because he was getting close himself. He opened his mouth to ask, but Harold must have known, because his fingers dug into Sigma's shoulders, his body shaking in anticipation, or perhaps even desperation.

"I love you," Sigma groaned.

"I know," Harold huffed. "I love you."

"I know," Sigma said.

"I love you," Harold continued, knowing that it'll send spark after spark flying through Sigma's body. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Harold," Sigma whimpered.

"Siebren," Harold sighed.

Their mouths met, the strings vibrated, Harold moaned, and Sigma couldn't help but feel like the universe was guiding him to this euphoric, perfect moment. Their orgasms combined into one being, taking the strength out of their lungs as sticky lines dribbled in the space between them, staining the floor. Sigma wanted to collapse, wanted to fall asleep with Harold by his side, but Harold held him up before he might actually do so.

It took Harold a long time to let go of Sigma. Sigma, even longer to let go of Harold. They stared at each other, gazing into red-rimmed eyes, and then they held each other again and laughed, joyfully, tearfully, tragically.

Harold ran his thumb over Sigma's scars, a small smile playing on his lips. His hair was mussed up, and his glasses were tilted, and he was still only shapes and colours, but Sigma thought he was the most beautiful person in the world.

"Harold," Sigma said.

"Siebren, I…" Harold's eyes widened as he suddenly scrambled to clean himself up, a wave of panic transmitting through his touch.

Sigma barely heard the spirits warning of danger when the sound of glass breaking and candles bursting into flame surrounded his senses. There were footsteps, so many footsteps, and they were pointing weapons at him. Sigma summoned the hyperspheres, the weapons granted to him by the spirits for his servitude, but they were never meant to fight so many men at once. He hoped they didn't know that. Perhaps the act of intimidation might be enough to ward off the attackers.

There was one pair of footsteps that weren't like the rest. The click of heels on the stone floor. Sigma felt his face fall.

"Dr. de Kuiper," Lady O'Deorain said. "You've been lying to me."

Sigma unconsciously put a hand in front of Harold. Golden energy could faintly be felt behind him, growing in intensity. "Don't do this," Harold started.

"This is for the name of progress," she uttered.

"I won't let you touch him," Sigma growled, blocking Harold from Lady O'Deorain and her band of assassins.

"You won't?" Moira tutted her lips. "Do you realise how much I've done for you, letting you live here like this? If you disobey me, I will take you back to the organisation. Talon won't be so kind with their treatments, I can assure you."

Sigma remembered the serums and potions, the ones that tortured his body and soul. A spike of fear rose up but he thought of Harold, and successfully quelled it. "You can't touch Harold."

"I believe it's Dr. Wen, actually. Or at least, that's what they say on the posters," Moira said. "Even if you escape me, the whole city knows who he is now. A lot of people will kill for the bounty that's been put up. Even I think it's a tad excessive, but any bit of money is useful in the name of progress and research. I'm sure you understand, Dr. de Kuiper."

Harold gritted his teeth, the energy around his body growing brighter, bigger. Harold's hand brushed against Sigma's, and for a split second Sigma saw Harold's thoughts. His eyes widened microscopically, too small for anyone to notice. Did he really trust Harold this much to place his life in his hands?

"Surrender Dr. Wen, and I will let you continue to live your life in peace here." Her lips curled into a smirk. "I'll even let you have the bounty money. You'll be financially stable for the rest of your life, no need to interact with those insects we call people. You can pursue whatever research you want. You'll never have to suffer again."

Sigma turned to Harold, fear and shock stricken across his face. It was a crazy plan Harold had in mind. A stupid one. An insane one. And yet despite this, he trusted Harold.

After all, Harold was so willing to give up his life for Sigma. It was time to return the favour.

Now, Sigma mouthed.

The strings of gravity at everyone's feet began to glow golden, and suddenly a burst of power surged up, striking their bodies. A wave of indescribable pain shot up Sigma's body as he collapsed on the ground alongside everybody else. The voice of the spirits was fading. The world was spinning, getting darker by the second. And yet for a brief moment he saw Harold in perfect clarify, eyes wide open, lips agape as he rushed over to Sigma's side.

Harold fiddled with his robes until he found the vial, trying to open it with his shaky hands. Sigma wanted to protest, wanted Harold to leave him there to die, but he was too weak to speak. He was too close to Harold, physically and emotionally, and it was this very reason that he was now dying. Staring up at Harold, Sigma thought he wouldn't mind dying right then and there. Harold was holding his body so carefully, tears beading in his beautiful brown eyes, his touch screaming of love despite the horror and sadness. With the rest of Sigma's strength, he slowly moved his hand up to wipe the tears away from Harold's eyes, marvelling at how they glittered for him alone.

There was a pop, and then warm hands enclosed around Sigma's jaw, pulling his lips and mouth open. Liquid flowed down Sigma's lips to his throat, and it tasted absolutely vile, but Harold was massaging his throat, forcing him to swallow. His body protested, trying to cough the poison out, but he was too weak to even do that. Sigma felt a dreadful tiredness overcome his body, and he collapsed, faintly aware that Harold was holding onto his hand, confessing his love over and over like a prayer to the gods themselves.

At least he told Harold that he loved him, Sigma thought as he finally succumbed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

#Overwatch #Sigma #Siebren de Kuiper #Harold Winston #Sigrold #Second last chapter people! #Chapter 5 will be the last and OH MY GOD this has been a trip #I think the nicest compliment I've had was from someone who liked the fic without actually knowing Overwatch #let alone Sigma and Harold #So I guess I crafted a pretty good AU story #Hope you guys continue to support me #It'd be super appreciated if you did

[kalims]

‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "it's high-school and it feels like i have a freaking harem."

otome high school au,

parts. one , two , three , remake

characters. jack, trey, ruggie, cater, kalim, azul, sebek, lilia, idia, ortho, rook, and ???.

cw. set in another universe, some things are canon to the original twst timeline but not all, gender neutral reader, pretend we are smart.

🏷 : @r-0-tt-3-n-m-1-lk @cupids-chamber @turningmad @twisted-stories @heizis @randomsimpformen @sunsethw4 @a-small-tyrant

note. help I actually forgot to include the shroud brothers 💀 added them last minute

✦ you — the new transfer student whose on a scholarship personally assigned by crowley himself. your presence alone strikes great curiosity to students. but when you're clearly surrounded by many guys full of different, colorful reputations they don't suppose they have a chance to become your freind. or another?

✦ azul ashengrotto — the guy who you see in jade's house whenever you're over (and the guy who just so happens to like you). he supposed the crush thing first was realized when you found an old picture of jade's class. he thought he'd gotten rid of all evidence but guess he was wrong. (he was included there therefore his.. old, shameful self was there.) before he could snatch it, or leave a couple of horrified tears you start laughing and comment on his 'cute little self' and how much you'd like to see more. azul stares at you through blurry eyes and his heart skips for a second. finally when you broke up with jade he'll try his absolute to ensure you experience true happiness. (hopefully with him)

✦ jack howl — a freshman who has great potential to land a regular spot on the team. contrary to your expectations with athletes, jack is much more nicer than anyone you've ever met, suprisingly humble as well. and yes, that's including leona. he's sometimes in your P.E class and he usually comes out on the top of it. in terms of academic he's pretty average so crewel just instructed you to tutor him, that concluded your introduction and now he's giving you tips and lessons to deal with P.E as a thanks for your teachings. (he still hasn't stopped when the period of your tutoring sees its deadline)

✦ trey clover — riddle's bestfreind and the guy whose family owns the bakery right across your house. their family makes the most mouth watering desserts, they're the best. you will never go back on that word even if your peace is often interrupted by the customers piling for a taste across the street. you're so lucky since whenever you just happen to bump to him on the path to school he just hands you a bag of pastries with a handsome smile. (it happened so often that he figured he'd give you some.) and gave you well crafted chocolates on valentines day that had you craving for more. (@honey-milk-depresso this one's for ya)

✦ ruggie bucchi — the boy that saved you from getting your teeth knocked out by leona, and the boy you spend a hefty of time engaging in mischief and unwinding. you can say you're pretty good freinds with ruggie, sometimes being an honor student has its boring moments so why not have fun and let loose with someone like ruggie? as long as you don't get caught it's all definitely alright. to your dismay your streak is promptly interrupted by a professor and now you're both in detention. he's still goofing around out of boredom and sends you a flying airplane made of paper. you unfold it it's contents were 'you're pretty(handsome) ;P' when you look up he's gone.

✦ cater diamond — the 'phone addict' who's always updated on the latest trends and gossip around social media. cater is one of the most strangest people you've met. you're actually addicted to your phone yourself so that makes you both buddies you guessed. he's always happy to text you about how his sisters were tormenting him again, even if you don't reply sometimes. you feel bad because the second you send something to him he's already seen it and typing up a response. you express your regret and all he says is that you could make it up to him by going on a date <3

✦ kalim al asim — a son of a sucessful merchant, that makes him super rich. he is jamil's worst nightmare. to jamil's absolute horror, if you've attracted this many guys you're bound to meet kalim eventually. you first meet the bright boy when he barges into jamil's house in the middle of a tutoring session and goes :0 -> :D when he sees you. (there's a face of regret and horror jamil displays when he sees kalim all over you, in a way he mistook the gesture as a personally interested kinda thing) he's asking questions about your name, what you like and you should think carefully before answering before he actually sends you your (favorite animal)

✦ sebek zigvolt — the boy who screamed about club activities when you were laying with silver. originally he wasn't really the best kind of boy to have around. he's... very loud, and honest. a trait you'd appreciate if he didn't lose all sense of logic when it came to malleus. you're suprised when you find out he personally knows him, and it seems like he is more when you do. tells you he will keep a close eye on you, and to not do anything horrible to "waka-sama" and proclaims you will be his enemy if you do. he already treats you like his, like a stupid disease so you're suprised once again when he displays degrees of concern when you get involved in a chemistry mishap.

✦ lilia vanrouge — a mysterious boy with a punky, rock vibe. you really like what he's done with his hair, strangely enough you can't see him being with a color other than pink. he's apart of the light music club with cater and a few other members and verbally professed his desire to bring you to prom, and he did after asking you with a song. you're well acquainted with him and you'd always thought he'd wanted to go to prom as friends but you doubt it when he asks you if you recall the time you went to prom as 'dates' fondly. he's quite suprised when you tell him you know malleus.

✦ idia shroud — your online best freind. other than epel you'd probably say his name if someone asked who your bestfreind (excluding epel) was. you haven't met him in real life, nor have you seen his face since you've known him for less than three months, you can confidently say he's quite close with you. anyhow. you met idia through an online game after he laughed at you for dying and ended up helping you in the end, which led to adding him as a freind. he helps you with challenges, domains, etc.. sometimes he even bought you using his currency when you told him it was your birthday. he only told you his real name after a month of being freinds. now you're curious to the mysterious third year in the school who strangely has the same first name as your online best freind.

✦ ortho shroud — the little brother of your online best freind. unlike idia, ortho wasn't really that afraid to show himself. if anything he completely contrasts his brother. idia was an introvert, ortho would be considered an extrovert and if there was anything you knew about ortho at all was that he completely adored idia. through begging, and to your dismay. idia managed to convince ortho to not show his face, but rather only his voice. so ortho is some kind of link used for both idia and you whenever he didn't want to talk using his real voice so he usually relayed his messages through ortho and to you. he is also the reason why idia now knows you're the new transfer student on a scholarship.

"finally."

✦ vil schoenheit (???) — a popular celebrity whom you finally encounter after being listed in a play as the lead role. you don't know how, when, or why you've been given the leading role out of all things when you barely know stuff about the theaters. safe to say you're confusedly complying at practices, I mean it's better than just rejecting right? to your absolute shock there's a kiss scene with the love interest of the leading role? who just so happens to be VIL SCHOENHEIT?? and he seems to know just about everything you do, he strikes easy conversations with you that you can't help but be tantalize by his ability. soon enough he'll make sure you're going to be his.

✦ rook hunt — the right hand man of vil, a hunter who knows his way with a string and an arrow. rook is definitely.. unique, is the first thing you think of when you meet the guy. he speaks french, which is an anomaly in itself, a welcome one of course. you'd even go as far as to say that it makes him more attractive. as the right hand of vil, rook is aware of every feeling the star has for you. it's inspiring, it shocks his nerves, it's.. addicting. rook will just about do anything to see that look in vil's eyes once more. how dark... how beautiful! he understands why vil is so interested in you but don't fret, he will take care of you~

#ㅤ◜◡◝ . . signed ! #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst fluff #twst headcanons #jack howl #jack howl x reader #trey clover #trey clover x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #ortho shroud x reader

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Prominence [WCh. 2.36]

Social Media AU ; Idol AU ; Added Unit AU CW/TW: Language Genre: Comedy, Romance Pairing: NCT x Idol!Reader, Seonghwa x Reader, ft. NCThree (Mark and Yangyang), Jeno, and Jaemin Y/N Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 2.2K

(36/80) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [NCT Masterlist] | [Other Groups Masterlist] | [Prominence S1 Masterlist] | [Prominence S2 Masterlist]

Notes: Just cuz :D I forgot to post it way back when so fuck it here it is. This is what I get for having too many drafts, this was supposed to be chapter four. Also, here's your prize for dealing with my post spam yesterday AHAHAA Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! Thank you for reading!

January 12, 2022

[You chased Seonghwa out. Great.] It was awkward, and it was your fault. God, you hated this, all of it. You wished you could take everything back but, for whatever reason, your heart still raced. And you didn't know if it was out of pure anger or out of heartbreak, both of which you were responsible for but too stubborn to admit out loud. You just couldn't believe he had the audacity to just barge in, like you didn't have a pride of your own. Not to mention the scene it made, god, that's the most embarrassing part. You'd just finished apologizing to everyone for the noise, especially Doyoung who looked the most irked. You'll never forget it.

"We never had a problem with you dating, despite the horrors it did to our image. But you do not drag anyone else into it."

You never knew that was how Doyoung viewed it.

Taeyong apologized for him, saying that he was just tired, but tired minds tell the truth, or so you always thought. Though, he didn't have to be so harsh about it. You understood where he was coming from, regardless, and you couldn't fault him for it. You felt like you'd be pretty annoyed yourself if any of the other members brought drama to the dorms, the one place everyone was supposed to be relaxed. No wonder he was so shocked when Seonghwa knocked on the door for the first time, but it's not like you were the first to bring their significant other to the dorms, there has been many a time Taeyong, Johnny, or Yuta brought someone over with them, granted, they were never the same people each time, but still. You'd say it was unfair, but you knew the truth.

You sighed as you slid the Jenga block out of its place, the tower wobbling only slightly while you placed it on top of the tower. Stop thinking about it, it's not entirely your fault.

"Dang, (Y/N), how are you so good at Jenga?" Mark gasps, struggling a little to remove his chosen block. You could tell he was just trying to alleviate the mood, one you set, great. You felt horrible for making everything so awkward. Every single person who has walked through since the whole event has caught onto the mood rather quickly and, yes, that includes the resident "happy machine" Chenle. If it wasn't for Yangyang suddenly slamming Jenga on the table, you would've locked yourself in your room to deal with this all on your own. "You've got steady hands," Mark speaks again, holding his hands to his face and watching them tremble, probably from lack of sleep combined with caffeine.

"Just practice, I guess," you shrugged, it was all you could get out before your voice started wavering, "I like doing things that require careful handiwork," you muttered. It was true, oftentimes Saeron would invite you to do crafts with her and, hey, they were a great way to relax. You glanced over at Yangyang, who was seated across from you. He was studying the tower carefully as he made his choice. He takes the safer one and removes a side block. "Since when have we had Jenga anyway?"

"I think Hendery bought it a while ago," Yangyang hums. He looks off toward the door, which was locked tight. You reached for another block that was slightly sticking out, result of Mark's intersting choice of block to remove.

"Hey, uh... you doing okay, (Y/N)?" Mark finally asks. You could tell he genuinely cared, well, of course he did, it's Mark you're talking about. Maybe it was because of your slight tear-stained cheeks and mussed hair, but it was mostly because you were so close. Or at least, you'd like to think so.

"Hm? Yeah... I'm alright," you said as you successfully removed the block, this time with some difficulty. "Why?"

"I mean... you know... your boyfriend-"

"Ex," Jaemin corrected Mark from his spot in the kitchen. You whipped your head back, shooting him a glare, but he just returned you in kind, except with a quirked brow and a knowing look. You just rolled your eyes and returned to your conversation.

"Sorry, ex-boyfriend just came in here and, you know, tried to fix everything but ended up kind of making everything worse and rubbing it in and really just sounded like he was making excuses, but that's just my opinion, but at the same time-"

"Mark, please drop it and grab a block already," you rested your chin on the edge of the coffee table while you shook your head. You didn't want to think about it.

"Oh... sorry," Mark averted his eyes for a moment and cleared his throat. He took a block and carefully placed it on top. "I just-"

"Mark, I'm fine," you cut him off again. You didn't want to talk about it. Seonghwa had to have some audacity just marching in here like he was still in your life after that stunt. You didn't want to even see him right now or else you'd just blow up and start spilling out all the shit you'd been feeling since he'd broken up with you. You didn't want to hear his excuses. He broke up with you first. He lied to you first. What he did now didn't concern you.

It did, though. Because it's on you to reciprocate. Just, you couldn't do that right now. You just finished NCT U promotions, you're finishing up NCThree prep, right after and overlapping slightly is NCT ANiMA prep for the group's first full album, there's just too much going on right now, and as much as you hated to admit it, the relationship had to wait, any kind of relationship had to wait. It had to wait until you were done with everything so you could focus on it. That wasn't you being rude, or petty, or anything. It was you being realistic. You didn't even have time for yourself at this moment, when was the last time you relaxed and did something for yourself?

Maybe this was worse though, shouldn't you be prioritizing your relationship over work?

This sucks.

"(Y/N)?" Yangyang spoke up this time.

"Yeah?"

"It's your turn," he says.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that," you sighed again and picked out a block. As soon as you touched it, however, the tower came toppling down. "Oh no... it toppled over... like my relationship," you slammed your head against the coffee table and groaned. "This sucks! God, I feel horrible, how could I have said those things to him? He just wanted to explain what happened that night and I told him to leave... isn't that what I wanted in the first place? Why'd I chase him out like that?" Your voice was muffled by your hands.

"So you're not fine," Mark mutters.

"Mark!" Yangyang gasps. "In your defense, (Y/N), you're allowed to be upset, you know? Don't be so harsh on yourself."

"I'm such a horrible girlfriend, he must feel terrible," you cried.

"Uh, no, you're not a horrible girlfriend," Mark almost sounded offended. "(Y/N) you used to bundle up in the hottest summer days just to visit him and bring him and his friends ice cream. Not just anyone does that!" Mark says and hands you a tissue. "You'd literally rush out of practice to go meet him, (Y/N), don't put yourself down. You did great, anyone who knows you knows that. It's just him being shitty and keeping you out of the loop for so long with no actual reason," Mark speaks up, he wasn't the kind to get heated like this.

"Plus, if you were a shitty girlfriend," Jaemin takes a seat and places a glass of water by you, pushing it in your direction. "This guy here wouldn't have been so head over heels for you," he says nonchalantly. Yangyang clears his throat and looks away. "I'm pretty sure he knows you better than anyone else will, I'm surprised you're still friends."

"It's more like a hostage situation," Yangyang teases.

"You've got a point there, Jaemin. And, to be fair, it's a double hostage situation. We have too much shit on each other to stop being friends," you sighed into your hands. "Still, everything just feels... kinda lame, you know? Like I don't want to do anything..."

"Hey, (Y/N)," Yangyang starts setting up the Jenga tower again.

"What?"

"Why isn't a koala considered a bear?" You looked up from your hands, your face scrunched with confusion. Where did that come from?

"Why?"

"They don't meet the koalafications." You stared at each other for a moment before processing what he just said. A small smile rose on your face and you snickered quietly.

"No way," Jaemin's jaw drops. "(Y/N), you really are a lost hope."

"What did the police officer say to the button?" Yangyang continues despite Jaemin's comments.

"Oh god, what?" You were almost afraid to find out.

"You're under a vest." You didn't know what it was, your tired brain, Yangyang's straightlaced expression, or the mess of emotions you were going through right now, but somehow for some reason you found it funny.

"Stop, they're not even that funny!" Still you couldn't help the ridiculous grin on your face, something that Mark and Jaemin were astounded by. Mark in shock and Jaemin in denial.

"Why did the bike fall over?"

"... why?"

"It was two tired."

"Oh my god," you wiped the tears out of your face.

"Why are you still crying?" Mark handed you the whole box now.

"The jokes are just so bad," you hiccuped.

"Wait, I have one more," Yangyang leaned back on his palms. "Why did the man get attacked by a bike every day?"

"Why?"

"He was stuck in a vicious cycle." The sound of someone laughing behind them caught everyone's attention and you spotted Jeno holding bags of McDonald's.

"That was good one," he laughs and places the paper bags on the table. "Anyway, I got everyone chicken nuggets so eat up."

"Why McDonald's?" Jaemin inquired, grabbing a box anyway.

"It's like (Y/N)'s favorite comfort food."

"McComfort Food," you mumbled, a small chuckle rising from your mouth.

"Mc what?" Jaemin remarks.

"You wouldn't understand," you just shook your head. You looked over at your phone. Seonghwa's number was still blocked, something you had reluctantly decided to do after more than a week of him ghosting you. If he didn't want to talk to you then you shouldn't want to talk to him, right? "Jeno, pass me a McNapkin, please." You held your hand out and Mark almost choked on his food.

"Damn, you're really crazy about this guy, huh?" Jaemin points at you with a nugget.

"I should go to him," you sighed. A chorus of "No!"s chimed around you and you looked around surprised. "Why not?"

"(Y/N), no offense, but what he did was so shitty, like, literally, he kept you in the dark for so long and now he expects you to just forget about it? You deserve better," Mark says. He had a point, and you thought so too.

"I think I should at least hear him out..."

"Maybe not right now," Jaemin sighs. "Wait for a bit, just till the tensions go down. One of you might make things worse."

"You're right," you shook your head. "Let's just go back to Jenga, yeah?"

"(Y/N)?" Saeron stuck her head out of the ANiMA side.

"Yeah?"

"Is everything alright? Hongjoong called-"

"Everything's fine!" The other boys answered. Saeron narrowed her gaze, but slipped back in, phone pressed against her ear. You could just barely make out a 'Yeah, no, she isn't fine. How's Seonghwa?' You sighed again.

"Hey, why don't we go out on a date?" Jeno offers.

"No," Jaemin shakes his head. "Why would you do that?"

"Okay, ouch," you sat up, pulling a block from the tower and making a move to toss it at him before Jaemin holds his hand out.

"You just broke up with Park Seonghwa of ATEEZ, imagine what people would do if they saw you with Lee Jeno from NCT Dream," Jaemin rationalizes, picking out a block and ignoring Mark's expression.

"It was my turn..." Mark mutters. As he makes a move to grab a block, Jeno reaches for one instead and Mark just folds his arms.

"Yeah, you've got a point," Jeno frowns. "Just wanted to help you feel better, (Y/N)," Jeno nudges your leg with his. "Hey, let's all go out then. Let's bring Yeseul so it's not sketchy. (Y/N), we can do that one thing you've been wanting to do!" Jeno adds with a smile.

"Shopping?" Mark asks.

"Pottery?" Yangyang adds next.

"Axe throwing," you and Jeno answer. Mark's expression immediately drops just as fast as Yangyang's jaw.

"Oh you are so on!" You grinned.

"There we go! That's the spirit!" Jeno stands up and pulls you with him. "Let's get ready, I'll call ahead of time, Jaemin, you coming?"

"To make sure neither of you bust your heads, yeah," Jaemin gets up slowly.

"Hey, wait for us!" Mark scrambles up. "Yang, come on," he urges. "We can just watch, or something..."

"Axe throwing, Jesus, how do they even come up with that?" Yangyang laughs pathetically. "One of us is going to end up in a hospital, huh?"

"I'll make sure it's none of you two, don't worry," you waved your hand, rushing to get ready.

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