#most of the time is relatively chill but

[oyasumillie]

This year I have been attacked by a patient, having to repost criminal acts from patients to the justice and yesterday there was a shooting at the place I work at... huh

[egophiliac]

have you seen the new nightwear groovy? alas, the dream of the animal onesies or the pillow fight groovy are dashed 😞 - i have yet to see the card's story but i assume that yuu is interviewing the boys again this year like the birthday boy cards cause there's no other characters in the card (?)

I too am disappointed that we didn't get a big full-on pillow fight. 😔 but he DOES battle by throwing his pillow, so at least we get some cushion action in there!

it looks like this round of birthday cards aren't going to be interviews/conversations, at least not for most of it -- the first part was Jamil talking to Ortho (who he duos with) about what his dormmates are doing for his birthday (they're setting up a surprise party/parade (because Kalim) but they're doing an extremely bad job of it and he's having to go around making sure that they don't screw it up) (being Jamil is suffering). second part was Jamil talking to his (unvoiced mob) roommate and answering Crowley's School Improvement Survey (he wants bigger bathrooms) (also a fridge in his room) (actually, make that a whole kitchen) (but mostly bigger bathrooms). then third part was his ~morning routine~, aka talking to himself about his hair and makeup, as one does in a visual novel. it's less cohesive than the previous birthday stories, but it's all pretty chill and there's some fun stuff in there! (Najma sent him hair stuff for his birthday that's way too fancy and he can't decide if she did it to annoy him or not. truly, being Jamil is indeed suffering.)

if all the cards are going to be about nightly/morning routine though, we're going to absolutely melt when we get to Vil, brace yourselves

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU drabble - Moving

Hello I am back and I got another idea for this little silly au that I have @spotaus to thank for for the original idea :3 Though I think this may be officially becoming one of my AUs hahahaha

First part Prev Part Next part

Also yes. I know it would work better to number these uploads but also i am not writing these in any set order so it will become miserable for all of us if i number them because either they will be out of order or I will have to rework all the names and I am already editing links I don't need that extra energy in my life.

ANYWAY! :D

Next part! The one I lovingly clal in my head - The one where the gang finds a more permanent temporary home. (also yes. Before this they all speed-run the whole Parental bonding and emotional bonding to the idea of having a babybones. Which honestly can and probably will make four different drabbles)

-------

Horror stares at the door and wonders once again how he got to this point.

Well, no. That is a lie. He knows exactly how he got to his point.

He glances over his shoulder where the other four at hiding off to the side. Out of view from the doorway but still visable for Horror if he looks just right. Seems like Dust won the discussion, again, and is holding Nightmare, again.

Horror wants to say it is surprising how quickly they all just... accepted the situation they got into but he really isn't. Monsters are weird like that. Forced adoption is not that wild all things considered when you are talking about beings made of magic and emotions.

Horror stares at the door and raises his hand before knocking twice.

He really hadn't wanted to do this but they have no other choice. As he waits he can't help but think back to what made them decide this.

Cross walks from side to side "That was way to close! That was the third time we came across the Stars with Nightmare out. Third!"

Killer nods from where he is sitting wiht the sleeping Nightmare in his lap "Yeah no kidding. It is annoying as shit that they are hunting us."

Dust shrugs "Not surprising. Nightmare 'disappeared' after all. We are their only lead."

Killer grins "We were lucky Cross managed to lie his way out of the last one." and he shoots Cross a wink.

Cross sputters "I panicked!"

Killer grins and winks "Sure sure daddy crossy."

Horror holds up his hands between his two... co-parents "This is not the time. We need to figure out where we can go." and he thinks things over.

Cross sighs "I don't get how they keep finding us!"

Dust huffs as he packs their bags "We go to too little universes. Makes it easy for Ink and Dream to pick us out because they recognise us personally."

Killer frowns "Meaning. we need a big universe?" he taps his chin "But also mostly positive as we still don't know how obvious Nightmare would be otherwise."

Cross frowns "I think it will be fine. He can't feel the balance anymore right? And no one seems to have a reaction to him like they had before nor how people have a reaction to Dream's aura thing. Maybe with the corruption gone he really is just... ex-guardian now?"

Killer groans "I hope so. I am not a fan of child labor."

That is when it hits him. Horror sits up "I think I know a place."

All of them turn to him and he immediantly regrets saying anything. See? This is why he normally tries to limit what he says.

Either way. Here they are now and Horror prays this works. Please. They need one thing to work in their favor.

The door opens and a gasp "Horror! It has been ages! It is great to see you. How have you been?" Crop smiles at him.

Horror steels his nerves. Come on. Too much hangs on this moment "Hey Crop. Nice to see you. I am... okay. How are you?"

Crop frowns at him instantly "You sure? You don't sound okay. Trouble at home?"

Horror chuckles "Kinda? Not exactly. Euh... Can't go back to that place now?"

Crop frowns "Why? Need a place to stay? I got a spare room."

Okay yes! this is going great! just... gotta make sure he knows.

Horror nods "I do need a room. Not just for me though..." Crop starts to frown and Horror raises his hands "Just temporarily!"

Crop frowns "Did... something go wrong?"

Horror pauses and thinks this through once more. He trusts Crop. Crop has never been anything but kind even when Horror had been an ass. Even when he had to once drag Dust here to get healing before they could make the jump back home.

Horror looks to the side and he sees the others just beyond the treeline, hidden in shadows and waiting. Crop takes a look as well but he can't quite spot them. Crop looks back up at him.

Horror takes a deep breath "You need... to promise me, no not just promise you need to swear. That what you are about to learn will not leave this universe."

Crop frowns as he immediantly looks uncomfortable. It is the reaction a promise gets from most of them. But Crop also shoots him a considering look before he nods. He holds out a hand "I swear and promise I will not share the about to be giving information. UNLESS! It endangers anyone." and he waits.

Horror stares at the hand and thinks. That... That is fine right? That should be fine. Nightmare being a child doesn't endanger anyone. Only them and Nightmare. Horror nods and shakes the hand.

Crop nods and steps aside "Come inside. I bet you will be more comfortable explaining there." he glances at the forest "Do your... friends? Want to come in too?" a guess clearly. probably on multiple fronts.

Horror shakes his skull "Not yet. Need to know your answer and reaction first." He turns to the forest and makes a signal to wait a bit longer. He sees a thumbs up shot his way back. Probably Killer. He never bothered with the signals they had learned together.

Crop nods as he steps aside and Horror walks in, having to duck slightly for the door. The door closes behind him and Horror sees the small living room with fireplace.

Crop leads him to the kitchen "Lets talk there. I will get some tea."

A few minutes later they are both seated and with a cup of tea. Crop looks at him expectingly.

Horror takes a deep breath and takes out their most valuable resourch. The Dreamtale book. And places it on the table. Crop frowns at it before looking at Horror.

Horror nods to it "It will help explain... Very long story short... Nightmare was never an adult. He was a child with a magical shield of some type. That magic has ran out."

Crop stares at him for a moment, then he pulls the book closer and starts reading it. He pauses at the title before opening it.

And now he waits.

---------

Crop sits wiht his skull in his hands. Horror just sits across from him, with his empty cup of tea. Crop's own cup has grown cold a long time ago. Horror just waits for anymore questions but Crop hasn't said anyhting in the last ten minutes.

Horror looks back at the book and sees that Crop has turned the pages back to the one with the drawing of Nightmare's head being cracked open. The image makes a very clear show on how small Nightmare was compared to the ones attacking him.

Horror still thinks the book doesn't do it justice. Nightmare is much smaller in person than the picture makes him seem. The cracks had been much worse than the picture showed. But it is the closest they got.

Crop finally sighs and speaks. He doesn't look away from the picture "I don't... Know a lot about this whole... multiverse stuff. It isn't my place at all. And that is fine." he pauses for a moment "But this... You are telling me... That the one being that had everyone afraid. That everyone saw as a demon. Is a child... is this child?"

Horror nods before he explains more "Nightmare... gained a lot of magic and powers when he ate those apples. At least that is what the story implied. We haven't managed to get him to tell us yet, mostly because well... he is six again." Crops pulls a face as well, yeah. Horror agrees. A PTSD filled six year old is not easy. But they are managing.

Horror nods "so... What Cross nad Dust think what happened is that... The magic and negativity of the apples bond itself to Nightmare. Which game him the magic and powers he would use. The connection to the balance because the apples were part of the balance. and more importantly, an adult form and mind to fit all the magic. There was just no way all that magic and energy would have fit a babybones. Especially one that hadn't shown much magic beforehand." an assumption on their end as Nightmare was never said to use magic in the book.

"We think... We think that this magic of the apples just. ran out. We had been in battle at the time and Nightmare had been hit but it shouldn't have had that much of an effect. it was the same type of attack he had been hit by before. Dust thinks it was just the last bit of magic that the apples had having run out. Meaning that with the magic and energy so went the form." all a theory of course. But it is the only thing they have.

Crop nods as he clearly thinks "And as he was suddenly an adult. instead of just being afraid and scared. all that pain and emotions took a more violent turn. As he was an adult and was suddenly able to realise that it was unfair which made him angry..." Crop pauses.

Crop glares back at the table and shakes his skull "It is... It is a whole story about victim blaming. A victim is blamed for the abuse they suffered. They are made to believe they deserve it and should be abused. Then as soon as they fight back and defend themselves they are seen as guilty." Crop takes adeep breath as he leans back "What I don't get... Why come here? I can't help with any of this."

Horror shakes his skull "This isn't about any of the big stuff. We don't even care about it. We just... Nightmare is himself again. His real self." he taps the page lightly "Not his aged-up self that the corruption enabled him to be."

Crop stares before his face changes to shock "You are trying to hide him." Then a frown "Why not go to your own home? Has it been compromised?"

Horror snorts "At this point? probably." a confused look and Horror continues "Nightmare used his magic to shield off an universe and make a castle." he shrugs at the glance "Nightmare likes to read. I imagine he liked to read back then too. He may have been an adult technically but he was still a child at soul. Child him wanted a home and wanted that to be a castle and adult him made it happen... probably... that is Killer's theory at the moment."

Crop laughs and nods "Suonds reasonable- oh... and with his magic disappearing."

Horror sighs "When I left his universe the castle had already been decaying..."

Crop frowns "Left? The five of you you mean?"

Horror looks to the side and feels the shame return "We.... we did not react well... when we saw the changes at first... we... we obviously dind't know what was going on and well." he looks down "We abandoned him. I know it was wrong and stupid and we all regret it. We came back but we still did it." shame.

shame shame shame shame shame shame shame-

A hand on his shoulder. Horror glances up and Crop smiles at him "It is okay. You are trying to fix it now right? obviously. Not cool that you abandoned a child... but it can be nerve wrecking. Suddenly going from a position where a person is mostly guiding you, to going to a position where you suddenly are responsible over that same person."

Horror looks to the side "We still left." he can't believe they just left!

Crop nods "But you returned." he grins "And you are trying to fix it."

Horror nods again "We are..." he chuckles "Not that we have been doing a good job at it. Jumping from place to place."

Crop hums "So you are looking to settle, at least for a little bit, while also hidding. Why this universe?"

Horror nods "Yeah..." He looks to the side "We... we don't know how everyone will react. To him being like this. Maybe they will react well. Maybe not. We don't want to risk it. Risk him."

Crop stares at him for a long time and nods "There must be better places?"

Horror shakes his skull "The Stars kept finding us. Dust figured out we needed a big universe that leans towards positive. Yours is one of those. It is one of the wider and bigger ones. And overall leaning towards positive."

Crop frowns "It can't be the best one..."

Horror shrugs but continues "True... there are bigger and more positive ones. But those are busy. Many people. many places. Yours is quieter. more empty. Gives peace and room to work from."

Crop frowns as he taps his chin. He thinks deeply before sighing "You guys got any type of backstory we can use? The multiverse thing isn't a known thing here and the only reason my brother and I know is because you crash landed here."

Horror blinks "You will let us stay?"

Crop nods "Sure." and he grins "Can't kick out four parents with a babybones." and he gets up.

Horrro shakes his skull "That isn't... Well I mean technically." He knows that Killer has come close to killing quite a few people with how protective he has grown over Nightmare and that isn't even including the motherhenning of Cross nor the clinginess that Dust has.

Crop chuckles as he nods towards the stairs "The attic is messy and should be cleaned but can be used by you four, well five. There is an old bed and an old lounge chair up there." more thoughtful "How big is he exactly? we will need some clothes. Probably also get a healer to check him if he is developing okay after all those magical shenanigans."

Horror stares for a moment before smiling "Thank you... I know it is a lot."

Crop shrugs as he opens the linnen closet "Horror. Taking care of milking all the cows on your own is a lot. Having to fix your roof in the middle of a thunderstorm is a lot." He straightens his spine with blankets in his arms "Helping a friend and his friends who have somehow aqcuired a babybones, while strange, does not compare to either of those. Now get your friends out of those woods. They will make the animals nervous." he grins "I am excited to be one of the first ones to meet the real Nightmare."

Horror smiles as he packs his book and goes towards the door. "Thanks again Crop."

Crop waves it off as he moves the piles upstairs.

-------

Boom! and they are staying in FarmTale for now! Horror and Crop are homies and Dust is more of an acquaintance of Crop but it works. Aged-up Nightmare knew that Horror had an universe he liked to visit but never demanded details. *shrugs* Nightmare didn't see the point. as long as horror wasn't going to betray him what did it matter he didn't tell him?

Surprise Nightmare, this is your temporary home now. For a bit. or maybe longer? They are still figuring it out.

First part Prev Part Next part

[pidges-lost-robot]

I think Hunk and Keith love to just stand there as Lance and Pidge fucking roast the everloving shit out of each other and wonder whether people can just be nice and get along instead

(They are both hypocrites)

[todayisafridaynight]

what makes minedai even sadder is that we never rlly see daigo try to build a bond with anyone else like he did with mine it rlly shows how badly it effected him like yeah he reached out to shinada in y5 but that’s rlly it and he probably would wanna leave him alone after that and not involve him in any yakuza stuff so i don’t think they would’ve hung out or anything like that afterwards. All he rlly had were saejima and majima but they were more like babysitters than anything, wish we saw more of their dynamic tho like we did with majima and daigo in dead souls since that was fun and we were lowkey robbed but in canon he’s just as lonely as he was before majimas promise to kiryu. And mine is the only person he really had a meaningful relationship with romantic or not they were still really close and we don’t see that again with daigo ever (from what i recall after y3) ok sorry for rambling LMFAO

even with shinada, he reached out to him more so out of 'duty' and trying to make up for the misfortune that befell him because of yakuza than wanting to rekindle any kind of friendship they might have had in high school (though it sounds more like they were just acquaintances if shinada needing a second to remember who daigo was is anything), so yah i doubt they really had any kind of bond afterwards

dead souls really was the only time after Y3 where we got to see daigo be more sociable with someone, but its as you say majima and saejima are more like retainers than close friends

[soupmanspeaks]

silly salvaged and its greg interviewing everyone (all the animatronics) for a marketing class at school or something

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Actually I think 4 books is not overkill thank you very much I’m just being prepared

[particlepocket]

Land of fields and frogs

A vast world with grass fields that stretch on for miles and frogs hidden about.

The land is comfortable but stagnant. Though there are the familiar fields and picket fence with a clear sky overhead to lull in a sense of complacency, the air is heavy with no wind. The water is still and cold, and the tadpoles are unable to metamorphize.

The land quest would be to light the forge and disrupt the planets idleness. Yet, doing so would forever alter the planet. Theming surrounding having to go out of your comfort zone and the important things we lose even during change that is for the betterment.

[fingertipsmp3]

Had THE funniest dream last night

[dragpinkman]

seeing a dog breed most people do not have the capacity to handle and properly care for marketed as an easy adopt

[rockshortage]

Gathering information on Hector:

🍇🌽🍰🍷🍻🍔🍟

🍇: What sort of friend are they? Where are they in the group dynamic?

Most of the time he’s just that small weird guy off to the side who just quietly follows along with whatever the others are doing. Sticks close like a nervous dog, or may also wander off if distracted by something that interests him. Which may or may not be noticed because he doesn't really speak up all that much unless a special interest is touched upon or something pisses him off.

🌽: How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

Definitely more on the emotional side, he likes it when people tell him he did a good job with something :) Or when his coat is looking extra flowy and evil today :) :)

He may be touch starved, but he will only submit to his need to be hugged after kicking and screaming a whole bunch (can be figurative or literal). Unless of course he’s getting kisses and head bumps from animals, now that’s the Good Shit

🍰: What's something your OC counts as unforgivable?

Hard agree with Django about child abuse. Animal abuse is a close second but there has to be a little bit more leeway there, considering he sorta has to forgive the Pack’s past transgressions.

🍷: What's one of your OC's pet peeves concerning food?

He has a real hard time understanding picky eaters. Fair enough when people don’t want to partake in his creative cooking but is it really necessary for someone to take apart a whole sandwich because there is one pickle slice in it? And why the fuck would you not eat the crust? Unbelievable…

🍻: What's your OC's favourite comfort ritual? How do they calm themselves down after a rough day?

Talking to/at MAAK is his main go-to. He’ll do that no matter what kind of day it was though, sometimes in combination with writing in his journal to bounce thoughts and ideas off the robot.

🍔: Are there any recent trends you think your OC would hate? Or love?

Honestly his knee-jerk reaction would be to be a grumpy old man about most new trends. Kids these days… As long as they’re not hurting anyone or being particularly annoying, he has an easy enough time ignoring them though.

🍟: What does your OC admit to be their guilty pleasure? What actually is their guilty pleasure?

This question keeps coming up and I never have a good answer lmfao

👉All pleasures are guilty when you’re anxious enough

[fllagellant]

Went from working a 6 hour to a 9 hour bc im the only person available to stay longer to help cover for the night shift ( someone else will close thank god an 11 hour might knock me on my ass ) and im hoping . That it stays quiet like it is now but i also know im doing a beer shipment If it comes in ( it has to ) but also . Two 15 minutes breaks and one 30 minute break did make me go Yay !

[hershelwidget]

working on so many projects

tag yourself i'm "swap auuu"

[xinganhao]

🫶 svt reacts to you saying 'i love you' on accident.

★ prompt: Ot13 reaction to you saying I love you for the first time (possibly kind of by accident) 🥰 c/o anon

ⓘ friends to lovers vibes, flirting, pet names. headcanons under the cut.

🫶 read more?

seungcheol tries to take it in stride. really, he does. he's convinced he can be very normal about this, even though it will probably have him preening the whole day. he's always thrived most on words of affirmation, and what's more affirming than the truth?

jeonghan's joking, of course. he knows deep down that your little slip doesn't immediately entail a relationship, but he's definitely intent on going out swinging. the light teasing is an attempt to get you to think about a time where you can freely say 'i love you' to him every day.

there's a fair amount of sincerity in joshua's reaction. his first thought is to make sure that you're okay with it, since he has some idea that you've probably tripped on the words. but give him that leeway and he'll take it in a heartbeat. you've started saying it; he'll never let you hear the end of it.

if junhui manages to feign nonchalance, it's because of his acting prowess. he's smug and giddy, though he's not about to let you know that. he's the type to pull the rug underneath you a couple of days later, right when you've probably forgotten it. "so…" he'll drawl. "how much do you love me, hm?"

to no one's surprise, soonyoung is decisively not chill about it. this is A Big Deal to him! an 'i love you'? something he's wanted to hear for ages? he needs to make sure he's not dreaming. there's the dopiest smile on his face, because you love him. it's the best thing he's heard.

wonwoo's hands are shaking. his throat is suddenly dry, and he's relatively sure his brain has short-circuited. it's— just an offhand thing. at least that's what he tries to convince himself. the reality: he's going to be replaying the words in his head for weeks on end.

it doesn't strike jihoon immediately. maybe it hits him once you're gone; maybe it occurs to him when the moment has already passed. one thing's for sure: he's not going to let it go unanswered. he's a little late, not on time, but that doesn't mean he doesn't mean it. you know that, right?

the words make something bloom and blossom in seokmin's chest. they take root like a promise, and even though he tries not to get ahead of itself, it's hard. he's so, so happy to hear it from you that he'll be walking on clouds for the days to come.

mingyu doesn't hate you. that much is certain. he just hates the power you have over him— how you can upend his entire day with a couple of choice words. he had thought he'd be stronger than this, but here he is. panicking because of 'ily'? god, he can't afford to be in shambles like this.

ever the rational type, minghao will be the type to press, "how do you love me?" he can't afford any missteps, needs to know you're on the same page. if you love him as a friend, then so be it. but if there's a prospect for anything more, even just a minute worth of it… well. he would like to know.

joking about it is a coping mechanism. that's something seungkwan subscribes to, at the very least. it gives him time to gather his wits, this whole keeping-up-a-facade thing. (ask anyone: he had been smiling a little too hard at his phone when your text came in. the eyes never lie.)

rarely is vernon thrown off his game like this. he's not supposed to be melting over a flippant 'ily', and yet here he is— trying (and failing) to be cool about your slip-up. can you blame him? he's wanted you for so long, and the words can be as good as a promise if he really wanted them to be.

you're not playing fair. chan has half a mind to make you suffer, to not give you the satisfaction of a reaction. alas, he's always had a soft spot for you. that extends to unquestioning forgiveness, and reciprocity where it matters. yes, even in accidental confessions.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

[marylxvrr]

" BENEATH THE SURFACE "

𐙚 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 — a ruthless criminal mastermind who commands fear and respect, yet becomes dangerously obsessive when it comes to you, willing to destroy anyone who dares to get too close, and ensuring you're always under his control . . .

𐙚 Trigger Warnings: Obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, threats of violence, and stalking.

College was draining enough without the added stress of trying to make ends meet. Working at the café helped pay the bills, but you were still behind on rent, your fridge was nearly empty, and your textbooks were secondhand disasters held together with duct tape.

You sighed as you wiped the counter for what felt like the hundredth time today. The café was relatively quiet for a Friday night, the usual rush replaced by the hum of soft jazz playing over the speakers.

The doorbell chimed, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You turned to greet the new customer, your smile practiced but polite. “Welcome! What can I get for you—"

Your words faltered when you looked up.

He was... striking. Impeccably dressed in a dark suit that screamed luxury, his presence was commanding and utterly magnetic. His sharp jawline and piercing eyes had an almost predatory gleam as they locked onto you.

“Just a coffee,” he said, his voice smooth as velvet. “Black.”

“Coming right up,” you said, quickly averting your gaze and focusing on the task at hand.

Something about him made your skin prickle. He didn’t look like your usual customer, and the way his eyes lingered on you felt... intense.

When you placed his cup on the counter, his fingers brushed against yours as he took it. The contact was brief, but it sent a chill down your spine.

“Thank you, Y/n,” he said, his lips curling into a small smile.

You froze. “How do you know my name?”

He chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Relief washed over you, and you gave a nervous laugh. “Right. Of course.”

But as he walked away to sit in the corner booth, a nagging feeling settled in your chest. You hadn’t been wearing your name tag today.

---

Over the next few weeks, he became a regular at the café. Always sitting in the same booth, always ordering the same coffee. He never stayed long, but his presence was impossible to ignore.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching you, though he never said much beyond polite small talk. It was unsettling, yet oddly flattering. A man like him—wealthy, confident, and undeniably attractive—paying attention to someone like you? It didn’t make sense.

Then, one night, everything changed.

---

The café was closing, and you were the last one left, cleaning up after another long shift. You were locking the front door when you noticed a sleek black car idling across the street.

Your stomach twisted uneasily as you hurried down the sidewalk, clutching your bag tightly.

“Y/n.”

You froze.

He was leaning against the lamppost, his suit as immaculate as ever, his eyes gleaming under the streetlight.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“I was waiting for you,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart pounded as he took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Why?”

“Because I’ve decided I don’t like the idea of you walking home alone,” he said, his tone calm but leaving no room for argument.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to step around him, but his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

“You don’t understand, Y/n,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “There are people out there who would hurt you. People who wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of someone as... vulnerable as you.”

“Let go of me,” you said, panic creeping into your voice.

His grip tightened slightly, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” you demanded, struggling against his hold.

“From everyone. From this world that doesn’t deserve you.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. You stared at him, your fear growing as the realization dawned on you.

“You’ve been following me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I had to,” he admitted, his tone softening. “I had to make sure you were safe. Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you struggle? To know you’re barely scraping by while I could give you everything you’ve ever wanted?”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “You don’t even know me!”

“Oh, but I do,” he said, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ve watched you for months, Y/n. I know how hard you work, how kind you are even when the world doesn’t deserve it. You’re perfect.”

His words were like chains, wrapping around you and pulling you deeper into his control.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Maybe,” he said, his lips curling into a small, bitter smile. “But I won’t let anyone else have you.”

Before you could respond, the black car pulled up beside you. The door opened, and he gestured for you to get in.

“Don’t fight this, Y/n,” he said, his voice both pleading and commanding. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you a life worth living. But if you try to run... I can’t promise what I’ll do.”

Your heart pounded as you stared at him, your body frozen in fear.

“Get in the car,” he repeated, his tone firm.

And in that moment, you realized you had no choice.

---

[gloomwitchwrites]

In the Wolf's Maw

Werewolf John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: mild dubcon, knotting, mating bonds, accidental mating, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding, dominance, protectiveness, possessive behavior, werewolf!Price, shifter!Price

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Requested by @glitterypirateduck for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Werewolf AU)

Walking home on Halloween night, you’re accosted by three strange men. From the dark emerges a stranger, but one that has been haunting your steps for months. He might be your savior, but there is a deeper hunger within him that needs to be satiated, and only you can satisfy it.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

Something walks with you amongst the trees.

It is always near—always close—but never enough for you to glimpse it between the towering bark.

When you first felt the strange presence, you believed it to be human. Your senses awakened in expectation of threatening intent, but now, with the passing of the months, you no longer believe it to be so.

Whether for good or ill, a human would have revealed themselves in some capacity. This must be animal. It has to be. Either curious or cautious but it clearly does not see you as a threat. It is always there though. A phantom. A figure. You've never seen who or what but you sense it.

"You should really take the main road. I don't understand why you insist on cutting through the forest."

"It's peaceful," you reply. "Gives me time to think."

Your friend arches an eyebrow. "You know the stories."

"Myths," you correct. "Not stories."

"Myths always carry a bit of truth."

There are wolves in the forest. But they live deeper, away from the human population. Wolf sightings are extremely rare, and those that claim to see them are often known for being terrible gossips and liars.

The myth that walks with them is that the wolves are not wolves at all.

They are cursed men. Shifters. Werewolves.

It's nonsense.

Scientifically impossible.

The wolves are only wolves. Maybe the one that watches you is one of these wolves?

Possible, but unlikely.

For all you know, you're being watched by a curious scurry of squirrels.

The myth is history drenched, from a time when people needed to explain natural phenomena they didn't understand. It is only stories.

Or so you believed.

It's late in October. Halloween night.

You stayed far too late at the local library, browsing shelves and losing track of time until the librarian, Mrs. Dean, came scouting for you in the basement archive. Down there, you went searching for what hadn't been digitized, seeking stories about these wolves.

Most of what you uncovered were old newspaper articles of missing women and mauled men in the forest. The details were few and relatively unhelpful, but like gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe, there was one consistency in all of them.

The myth, mentioned at the end of every article. Cursed men that shift into wolves. Men in the skin of a predator that hunt women and slaughter their menfolk. You'd think the town had a serial killer, but the articles go back far enough in time that it simply couldn't be the case. Many of the articles cite historical records and reports of the same thing happening over a hundred years ago.

It plagues you on your walk home.

Staying late at the library and taking the path through the forest home takes you away from the roaming families and the angsty teens ready to terrorize anyone who steps in their path. The streets are alive with movement, but you need to collect your thoughts, to consider what you've found and figure out where to look next.

A gentle wind brings a chill with it, sneaking underneath your coat to tease skin. Shivering, you bundle up tighter, the cold bite of air adding a kick to your step. You feel eyes on you, but not your anonymous phantom.

These eyes feel cruel. Malicious.

"What's this?"

Three tall figures in masks emerge from the dark. Like a whisper of wind they appear, skulking toward you, fanning out in a half-moon directly in front of you.

"Cute thing like you shouldn't be out here all on your own." The voice is masculine. Deep. Not one of the local teens. This is someone much older. "There are...wolves about."

The trio saunters forward, the two on the ends splintering off from the man in the middle, slowly boxing you in. There is nowhere to go but behind. Turning tail and running means a chase. You scent their excitement. That is what they're itching for.

"I'm fine. Thank you for the concern," you reply in the blandest voice you can muster.

Don't show fear.

"Need an escort?"

He's not taking the hint, but what did you expect?

Missing women. Dead men.

"No. Thank you."

Squaring your shoulders, you charge forward, intent on walking through the two on the right. In sync, they close ranks, blocking your path.

"Sure about that?"

"We insist."

Your lips part. "I'm—"

A low growl reaches your ears. It is laced with warning, and a sudden surge of energy rushes up to greet you, wrapping around and between your limbs like invisible rope. You know this sensation. It is familiar and unwaveringly comforting.

The two men standing in front of you glance over your shoulder. From behind their masks, their eyes widen with abject terror. Their shoulders tighten with tension, and they freeze like a deer sensing danger.

The growl comes again, and that sensation bleeds into you further, becoming more than just comfort.

It is...ownership.

Possession.

"What the fuck is that?" whispers one of the men.

They're not focused on you anymore. They're looking beyond you. Behind.

"Fucking run, mate. Run!"

The three men stumble backward, becoming small and insignificant before your very eyes. They shove at each other, not for encouragement, but for distraction. If one should fall, it might distract whatever it is that lurks behind you.

At first, you do not turn. You wait for the pounce—for the growl. But there is nothing. Only silence. Yet those invisible ropes still cling to your body. They still hold tight.

With a baffling sense of calm, you slowly swivel.

There is a wolf. Not a normal one you might see in a wilderness documentary. This one is large, nearly as tall as you on all fours. Its fur is a deep brown. It watches you intently, gaze fixated on nothing else. Even as you take a step away, the creature does not waiver.

It's unnerving, at least, it should be. Yet that comforting familiarity shuts out everything else. It chases away fear and doubt. You know that the natural instinct of any animal facing down a larger predator is survival, but there is nothing that beats within your body that suggests your fight or flight response is on.

It is eerily peaceful. Serene even.

If this sensation did not encompass you as completely as it did, you suspect that you'd be like the trio. Afraid. Terrified.

But just because your sense has left you, that doesn't mean your brain has. It is loud and it is talking.

Do not turn your back. Do not break eye contact. Make yourself big. Make noise. Move backward slowly.

You stretch your arms out wide, puffing your chest, attempting to make yourself bigger. Not like you could ever compare to this beast. You step back, breathe in, preparing a yell.

But just as you do, the wolf shifts. It's not showing its fangs or quickening its haunches. It only watches on, alert and curious. Not aggressive.

There is no submission, though. The wolf does not seem intent on simply walking away. That sensation hugging your body brightens, and a flare of possession surges through you, stiffening your muscles as if you've been turned to stone.

The wolf shifts again. Shakes. Takes a step toward you.

As it does, you hear bones pop and snap. Beneath the wolf, its legs twist and bend beneath it, staggering its forward progress. Its nostrils flare and then the neck snaps as if lurched to the side by some invisible force.

"What the fuck," you mutter, that sense of calm slipping.

The connection is still there, but it's slightly weaker than before. A drop of fear creeps in, and the need to escape starts to bloom in your chest. It widens, that familiarity leaking away to bleed into the earth as the broken wolf shakes and twists some more.

It is just a mass of fur and tangled limbs.

And then, from the pile, the fur splits open, and a human arm emergers, the fingers reaching out, tearing at the dirt.

You need to go, to fucking run.

The phantom threads release you, and your feet find their purchase. You launch yourself backward and away, sprinting as fast as you can. The cold, October air bites at your cheeks. Everything burns.

You know this is just adrenaline. It will fade and you will crash.

Boot slipping on dead leaves, you go stumbling forward, the ground coming up fast. You're jerked to a stop. Halted. Face inches away from smashing into a rock. Glancing down your body, you see...arms. Human arms. Wrapped around your torso. They are muscular and marked with protruding veins, with a dusting of hair along the forearms.

Slowly, you are lifted upward and onto your feet, but the arms remain. Warmth greets you, pressing into your back to chase away the October chill. With it comes a honey-laced scent. It is sweet and lulling, seeping into your pores to flood your senses. This is like before—the awareness of familiarity and possession, but there is a difference in its tone. Beneath it is a wicked teasing, a promise of dominance and pleasure. Like the invisible ropes, it overpowers, wrapping around you to hold you like a blanket.

It is enticing. A pull that calls to you. Something within you reverberates its call, answering back.

The arms around you tighten until you're firmly pressed against the man holding you. That is who it is. Not what. The wolf is gone. This is solid flesh.

This is myth made life.

The lulling sensation settles in, calling to you, telling you to submit.

It would be so easy. So simple.

No.

You push at the man's arms, twisting in an attempt to break free. But your savior turned captor holds firm, allowing nothing.

"Let me go."

"No."

The no is a rumble deep in his chest. It vibrates through the pull and into your bones. This is a command, and your body promptly responds, coiling tight.

Glancing over your shoulder, you lock gazes with the man holding you in his arms. You're staring at the face of a man. He is handsome. Older. His skin is lightly coated in sweat and dirt. But the eyes. They are wolf eyes. Completely animal. The rest of him is completely bare. No clothing in sight, and yet he doesn’t appear cold.

His chest heaves slightly, nostrils flaring. This man burst forth from the wolf, but there is still a beastly quality that sings along the pull. This man is somewhere between, lingering between the wolf and humanity.

How you know this isn't entirely clear. There is a link somewhere. A tether. His closeness only makes the awareness grow in strength. Confusion and concern twist together even as the comforting familiarity attempts to soothe your nerves.

"Please," you murmur, not entirely understanding yourself what it is you're trying to say.

The man only sighs. His head dips, and then he inhales deeply as if—

Is he…scenting you?

"What are—"

The question disappears from your lips. Taken from your mouth. The stranger nuzzles your neck, inhaling deeper. One hand descends as the other rises. Along the pull you feel heat, it floods outward from him and into you, going straight to your pussy.

The descending hand slides between your legs, cupping your sex. The other roams up your stomach to your chest, gently learning the curve of a breast through your sweater.

He groans low, and that too reverberates within you. A tingling blooms in your core. There is your own desire, but beside it is another. His.

The stranger's hand slides further between your legs. Back and forth, the pressure building so suddenly and intensely that your pussy clenches.

He inhales again. Growls. "Mine."

That one word is like a slap to the face and a comforting caress. Along the pull, it is a dominating serenity. Outwardly, your freedom rebels, pushing against the idea.

As if sensing the unease, his hold on you releases, but only for a moment. He lifts you effortlessly into his arms, clutching you tightly, strutting forward with purpose in every step. You sense it through the pull, this taut string that has woven its way inside.

"Let me go," you murmur, pressing against his firm chest.

Be calm.

The command comes not from his own throat, but from within your head. It is his voice. Clear and resonate. The moment your brain processes it, all your limbs soften like jelly.

Are you trapped? Have you been possessed?

A part of you firmly clings to this idea while the other part remains completely calm as if this is supposed to happen.

He walks deeper into the forest, and time stretches, the stars through the canopy your only light. The trees thicken, and then the stranger comes to a stop before a group of jagged rocks that juts upward from the ground.

Within the rock, you spy darkness.

An opening. An entrance.

Instinct flares, and the need to escape comes rushing back. Be calm, he says again.

This time, there is no instantaneous softening. Along the pull, something tightens, as if adjusting a belt buckle. A wildness stirs, and the earlier arousal returns, tinged with desperation. Eagerness settles in your chest, but it feels more like his emotions than yours.

The man walks toward the rock. He tilts forward, stepping inside, submerging the two of you in utter darkness. Yet, you do not feel frightened. Each step of his is confident and steady, and as the two of you steadily move forward, a soft white glow begins to appear. It is faint at first. Soft.

Another opening emerges, and before you is an antechamber. In the middle of the rock-laden room is a massive slab of solid, black stone. It stands at waist level, the surface worn from age. Above it is an opening in the cave ceiling. From it, moonlight falls upon the rock slab. An acrid odor fills your nostrils. A brief brush of wind slides against your cheek. Something magical and old stirs. Something primal.

He stops at the rock slab, and then gently brings you down to your feet. Solid ground is comforting. Stable and strong.

The wolf eyes stare back at you. A fire swirls within them. As your gazes’ lock, memory surges down the pull. That familiar feeling returns, and with it, memories of you.

He is the one who has walked with you amongst the trees. He is the one who has been the presence at your back. Keeping you safe. Protected. A sense of duty follows the memory along with a flare of purpose. At the end is dominance and possession. It all slithers around the pull until you feel it in every part of you down to the tips of your fingers.

Maybe all those missing women aren’t missing at all. Maybe they went willingly. Maybe they had wolfish protectors of their own.

You are at ease, your limbs responding of their own accord. You place your hand on his chest, right over his heart. Its beat is strong beneath your palm. He places his hand over yours, gently grasping it. Stepping forward, his head dips, forehead pressing to yours with an intimacy that somehow feels…normal. Like you've known it all your life.

Along the tether, you taste a name.

John.

His name is John.

"John," you breathe, and his hand upon yours tightens.

The distance closes, a radiating heat bursting within your chest as John’s other hand falls upon your hip. It flows outward, warming you down to your toes and into your fingers. John's lips find yours, and it is perfectly blissful. This stranger is not unknown to you. Your soul sings with longing and want.

There is a connection here. Why not seek it?

You return the kiss, grasping the back of his neck, moving in to consume just as he does. John's answer is a deep growl, one that vibrates in his chest. A sharp spike of arousal shoots through the tether, slamming into you at full force.

You gasp. Draw back.

John is partially transformed, fingers morphing into claws. With a groan that is more animal than human, John tugs at your clothes. They surrender under his touch, like a knife through softened bread. There is no ceremony to it. No ritual. You are laid bare before this man. At his mercy. The chilly October air rushes in and then immediately departs, John's body heat chasing it away almost the moment it arrives.

His hands are on your waist, lifting you, planting you atop the stone slab. You want to say something—anything, but all words escape your head and tongue as John spreads your legs wide and places his mouth on your pussy. Sudden surprise becomes languid pleasure.

He is ravenous. Hungry. John leaves no part of you untasted. Your moans echo in the small cave, filling the space with your ecstasy. His tongue delves inside, and then languidly slides upward to swirl and tease your clit. Everything in you tenses, anticipating release.

John's arms hook over your legs, hands splayed wide, gripping your thighs, pulling you closer against his mouth. With your pleasure comes his, rolling across the link in waves. It comes in flashes of images. You glimpse yourself as he sees you, not only in this moment, but in all the moments he's watched you.

Between the desire and need is a hint of loneliness, of an unfilled connection that burrows in his chest and eats away at his heart. This current moment isn't what he intended, but it has all unraveled.

Your grasp for him, fingers threading through his hair, tugging hard as your orgasm burns bright behind your eyelids.

Look at me, comes the command.

You do, and your gazes lock. His nails are still elongated, still claw-like. One pointed tip pierces your skin just as your orgasm bursts. He growls low.

Mine.

The voice. His voice.

Mine.

A sense of ownership and dominance enters your consciousness. You feel as if you're incomplete. only a portion of yourself, yet the end is near. It will all end, and you will be fulfilled.

In the hazy aftermath of your orgasm John's tongue traces up the beads of blooming blood. You shiver, blinking to clear away some of the euphoria. John stands between your legs. His hands are still on your thighs, keeping them wide. In full view is his erect cock. There is a slight curve to it, and at the base is a swollen bulge. John squeezes one thigh and your gaze returns to his face. They are still all wolf.

When the wolf fades, what color might they be? The question pops into your head and then quickly fades. His wolfish features are starting to bleed in again. Nose elongating, fur returning, claws lengthening.

"I'm sorry," he says, and his voice a tangled snarl.

With a quickness that startles you, John flips you onto your stomach. His hands are everywhere, spreading you wider. You briefly glimpse him between your legs before he lifts himself up and onto the stone slab, settling behind you. Above you, one half-transformed hand presses against the stone just next to your head. His other finds rest against your waist.

While your own body buzzes with anticipation, you sense an excitement along the tether. John's excitement. Of the act itself but also of a sense of peace.

The head of his cock presses at your entrance. You exhale, relaxing your muscles, welcoming him in. You're wet, and your pussy accepts him with only the slightest resistance. He holds himself there for a moment, simply breathing. Like this, you feel entirely full. It's a snug fit, but it feels amazing, like his body was made for yours and yours for his.

Mine.

"Yours."

At your admission, John thrusts in earnest. There is nothing slow and sensual about his movements. It is only primal need and utter hunger. His arm hooks under your stomach, and then you're pressed firmly into the rock by his body. You are trapped beneath him, completely at John's mercy.

Each stroke is perfect. Cleansing.

You pant beneath him, almost in time with his own needy groans. The swell at the base of his cock slaps your pussy with each thrust. It doesn't seek entrance, but deep down, you know it will, but for what purpose is unclear.

John's movements become sharper. More intense. His panting increases, and you feel his mouth at your throat. There is a soft press of his lips, then a gentle tease of his tongue. You cannot see him, but you feel the transformation above you.

John is no longer human as his maw opens wide and holds your throat in it as he ruts. His cock swells in your pussy, stretching. The swell at the base prods, and with a final thrust, it pops in. John holds there, growling. His sharpened teeth pierce your skin. You feel the little rivers of blood trail down your throat. With the bite comes understanding. That tether becomes a solid, unbreakable thing.

Mine. She is mine.

Forever mine.

Mate.

Memories and emotions crash into your skull. You see all of John for who and what he is. A wolf. A shifter. The alpha of his pack.

Within your pussy, you feel a flood of heat. Now you know what the knot is for. His pleasure becomes yours, and you shiver, another orgasm creeping up suddenly and without warning. You clench down on his cock and on his knot. His answer is a pleased growl.

Ever so slowly, the wolf’s massive maw releases your throat. The transformed paw above your head disappears, followed by the weight of him. His cock and knot remain where they are. You feel him shiver. Hear a cracking of bone. You remain perfectly still until the ragged breathing of an animal becomes that of a human.

You turn just enough to glance over your shoulder. Behind you is John. The man, not the wolf. There are no sharp claws. No pointed teeth. The tips of his fingers brush over your skin, becoming full hands that gently caress. There is no harshness. His head tilts up, and for the first time, you're seeing him as he truly is.

Blue eyes. John has blue eyes.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, exhaling deeply, a nervous flutter to his lashes.

"You're still inside me," you reply softly.

He glances down and groans. "Fucking hell. Forgot about that." He flushes slightly. "It'll be a minute."

"A minute?"

He grimaces. "The knot. Still swollen. It'll hurt you if I pull out now."

"Oh."

There is a stretch of silence. John sighs, his hands gentle tapping a rhythm against your ass. "This is...awkward,” he murmurs.

"Is it?" you ask, arching a single eyebrow.

"John," he says sheepishly, extending his hand in introduction.

"I know your name. I heard it through the—"

"The bond," he finishes. "I know." He drops his hand, and places it on your lower back. Using the position, John tests the knot. You wince. It doesn’t want to budge. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for...this."

"It's fine,” you reply, because it is.

You feel light. Content. This man is a complete stranger and yet not. Between you is the bond. There is strength in it, and a comforting embrace that you’ve always wanted but have never found.

"It's not." He sighs. "It's not how I wanted to do this," he mutters. Gripping your hips, John tests the knot. There is resistance but it’s significantly less than before. "Relax your muscles," he says softly.

You inhale, and on the exhale, John withdraws. You whimper from the brief flare of resistance but it isn't painful.

“I forget myself when I’m changed. You were threatened, and I couldn’t resist the impulse to protect you. For the wolf, that meant stealing you away. Completing the bond. But it’s not an excuse.”

You draw your knees up, suddenly realizing how exposed you are.

“You didn’t harm me. Except—”

You reach up and touch your throat. There is no blood or puncture wounds. Just a couple raised bumps that weren’t there before.

“What is this place?” you ask, glancing around.

John’s gaze scans the room, and then returns to you. “A ceremonial space. It’s been here for thousands of years. The wolf brought you here because it knew it would be safe.” He licks his lips in agitation, and then runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at them in irritation. “Could we begin again? Start over?”

“What did you have in mind?”

He places both hands on the stone slab, leaning in close. “I’ll…take you home.” His muscles bunch with tension when he says it. Along the bond, you sense the wolf’s firm refusal of the idea. “I’ll come to you during the day. We can talk.”

You scoot down the rock slab, moving closer to him. The middle of John’s brow furrows with confusion as he watches you. As you cozy up to him, you sense his calm—the relaxing of his muscles. John’s head dips, nostrils flaring slightly as his eyelids close in pleasure.

“My scent is all over you,” he purrs.

A mix of deep desire and contentment wraps you up in its embrace.

“How do you plan on taking me home? You did shred all my clothes.”

John chuckles. “Discreetly.”

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