#my other thought is a modern au where their swords are knives

[pbaintthetb]

oh forgot my genius thought of a modern mdzs au where they invent hoverboards by sticking their swords into skateboards (because having a sword around in the modern days is likely to get extra looks as is a hoverboard tbf but one of those is funnier)

[cheolaholic]

bound to you; jww

summary; With a subtle fire growing between two vastly different souls, are they doomed to surrender to a bond that binds them together? Or... are they exactly what each other need?

abo universe • mafia au • arranged marriage • fluff, smut, angst • hurt-comfort

pairing; jeon wonwoo x f!reader | wc; 22k | rating; 18+ explicit nsfw

contains; mafia boss! wonwoo, florist! reader, alpha! wonwoo, omega! reader, reader knows how to fight back/stand her ground even though she’s submissive, right hand man! woozi, beta! svt members (cheol, woozi, gyu, vernon & chan), mentions of JxW, wonwoo is unhinge but not too unhinged, woozi encouraging/supporting wonwoo to be more unhinged, wonwoo wears glasses, very subtle “where is my wife!?” trope, not really sure who fell first and who fell harder, unplanned pregnancy, the honeymoon scene is sweet AND nasty

mature/trigger warnings; dom! wonwoo, sub! reader, big dick! wonwoo, knotting, biting/marking kink, size kink, use of sex toys, g-spot stimulation, breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you do the nasty), mating press, implied sex marathon when reader is in heat, somewhat of an aftercare, reader is extremely horny when in heat, wonwoo doesn’t mind bcs he’s just as horny and has really high stamina, tummy bulge, creampies, squirting, that one business proposal scene, drugs (heat inducers, heat/rut suppressants), forced drugging, weapons (guns, knives, needles etc), abduction, violence (it’s a mafia au so, yea), mentions of miscarriage, etc

petnames; his (Nonu, Alpha), hers (Doll, Babydoll)

a/n; RAHH, new fic !! hope yall enjoy this because i sure as hell stressed over this fic way more than i should’ve- was also sick as i tried to finish this out and get it out (by its very overdued deadline rip) big thanks to rae ( @nerdycheol) and supi ( @supi-wupi) for beta reading and sharing their thoughts on it hehe ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

✨ support me by becoming a patreon (enjoy exclusive perks & content) OR tip me on kofi !! 💜 if you are unable to do so, you can also show support by reblogging your favourite works of mine !!

In this universe, there exists a city called Ashville.

A modern city that’s under the rule of an infamous Mafia family that’s been around for generations.

In this universe, each individual is born into one of three dynamics: Alpha, Beta, and Omega. These roles are usually found out before they become teenagers, typically around the ages ten to twelve. Not only do they dictate one’s instincts, but it also determines their place in the social hierarchy.

Alphas stood at the very top of the hierarchy, their presence commanding and unyielding. Known as protectors and leaders, their strength and resolve made them pillars of stability and order. They exude an air of confidence, their pheromones carrying an unmistakable weight that both enthralls and intimidates. An Alpha’s instinct could be a double-edged sword – their need for dominance paired with their sense of responsibility.

Betas occupy the middle grounds, acting as stabilizers so that the world doesn’t get thrown into a world of instinctual chaos. Neither driven by the dominating urges of an Alpha nor bound by the vulnerabilities of an Omega, they serve as the mediators. The voice of reason, if you will. Their neutrality is what makes them the glue that holds society together, but could also be the cause of its downfall if they were to commit treason.

Finally, the Omegas, whose roles are often misunderstood due to their vulnerabilities. They’re the heart of the societal order, their instincts centered on nurture, connection, and to a few, rebellion. They are similar to Alphas in terms of pheromones, but what set them apart would be that an unclaimed Omega’s pheromones could attract unwanted attention from unclaimed Alphas, drawing them in like moths to a flame.

Claimed Omegas would bear the bonding bite of their Alphas. But, in the event an Omega is without a mate, either by choice or tragic events; they are forced into prostitution. It is a sad reality and possible outcome to many. Hence, many Omegas forged paths of quiet defiance, proving that they too are strong without a mate.

Click.

"Can you, please, get a bit closer?" The photographer asks, practically begging at this point.

Wonwoo heaves out a sigh while your shoulders slump, tired from having spent the entire morning posing for your wedding portrait. While it was true that you were somewhat excited to have finally found your mate, let’s just say of all the possible occupations you’ve come up with, a mafia boss was not on that list.

Hell, not even the Jeon Wonwoo was on your list.

The mob boss takes a step closer, placing both hands on your hips and the photographer beams at the sight. “Yes, yes! Just like that!” he exclaims, pulling out his camera as he continues to snap more portraits. Wonwoo feels your body tense up from the close proximity so he leans in close to your ear. “Relax, doll,” he whispers, “You’re tense and you look terrified. Nobody is going to believe that we’re ‘in love’ if you keep this up.”

Click.

“I-I’m sorry,” you squeaked, the grip you had on the bouquet of flowers tightening slightly, “ ‘M just nervous…” “Oh, I know you are, doll.” Wonwoo turns his head slightly, nuzzling his nose into your hair and you let out a quiet gasp, “I can smell it. Do I scare you that much, hmm? Having second thoughts because your mate is the infamous mob boss?” He lets out a low chuckle when you shake your head profusely, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Keep your eyes on the camera, darling. Once this is over, you can go right back home.”

Click.

“Shouldn’t we make preparations for the ceremony?” you asked, “What about the cake? The venue? The–”

“Don’t stress your pretty head, doll,” Wonwoo says, giving your hips a light squeeze, “I’ve settled everything and your preferences have been taken into account, too. I’ll contact you for the cake tasting and venue checking.”

“And, it’s a wrap!” the photographer announces with a wide smile, “Thank you so much Mr and Mrs Jeon! I promise you won’t be disappointed with the results!”

You weren’t sure if the photographer was always this… enthusiastic with his clients. Or if he was holding himself back from pissing himself. ‘I’d be terrified too if the Jeons were my client…’

Not one soul didn’t know who the Jeons were. What started off as a small group of delinquents had eventually grown into one of the largest mobs to run Ashville. The man who started it all, Jeon Wonsoong, was a man who could send even the Devil running with its tail between its legs. While most mobsters were practically built on wealth, the Jeons’ were quite the opposite.

Jeon Wonsoong had built the mob of the Jeon family from scratch – from the literal blood, sweat and tears of his companions and oftentimes, those who had crossed him. The Jeons had their respect earned, not given on a silver platter. Many have mocked Wonsoong when he began building a name for the family – claiming that he was too ambitious, that he’d be better off as an underling.

They were the very same people he’s overthrown.

Just a mention of the Jeon family name was enough to drain anyone’s face of their colour.

Decades later, enter Jeon Wonwoo, the one and only beloved grandson of Jeon Wonsoong. Wonwoo already had the responsibilities of being the next mob boss ever since his mother’s pregnancy was announced. Wonwoo grew up watching how the “family business” worked, seeing his father fire bullets through heads after heads of rivals or anyone and anything that could be a threat to the family.

The poor boy was terrified at first but by the time his teenage years rolled around, he’s pretty much grown numb to the fear and squeamish feeling of seeing piles of bloodied dead bodies.

He’s watched the drug dealings, the smuggling – the most atrocious crimes or businesses known to man would be committed by the Jeons’, yet they would refuse to inflict any form of harm onto women and/or children for pleasure.

Wonwoo remembered bringing it up to his father when he was 16.

“Your grandpa is a family man, son. He’d never harm a child for the wrongdoings their parents have done – that’s why he takes them into the family and raises them to be his men.”

“What about crimes against women?”

“Crimes against women is unfortunately something that cannot be stopped, regardless whether or not the perpetrators are in a mob,” Wonsoong replies as he enters the room, one hand linked with his grandmother’s while the other held onto his walking stick, “We may be mob bosses, crime lords – whatever it is they call us, Wonwoo, but, causing harm to women and children for pleasure is a monstrosity I will not allow this organisation to ever commit. Your grandmother was assaulted for choosing me over some rich bastard – your uncles and I broke their arms, castrated them before making them kneel in front of her family to beg for forgiveness.”

“His heart is in the right place,” Wonwoo’s grandmother added on, “While being a mob boss or part of a mob gang is less than ideal for anyone, at least your grandfather shows some levels of decency as a human being.”

“So… in the scenario one of our members has assaulted, or caused harm to women or children in any way, what happens to them? Do they get their bones broken and then castrated?”

“That was back in the good old days, my dear grandson,” Wonsoong chuckled, “Now, they are battered and bruised, fingers cut, and castrated – before being shot thrice.”

Sure, it’s terrifying to have the entire nation’s economy in the palm of a mafia family.

Yeah, the occasional stumbling upon a body being dumped in certain areas could be traumatising. Hell, it even caused mass panic.

But, citizens soon learnt one saying, “Don’t cause the Jeons trouble, and trouble won’t find you”. A fancy way of saying, “If you don’t want to be the next corpse, don’t fuck with the Jeons”.

Because all the bodies found were individuals who have crossed them.

You stare at the wedding venue, brows furrowed as you take in the sight. You knew the Jeons had a taste for dark aesthetic, but you weren’t expecting the wedding decorations to be all black.

You weren’t exactly a superstitious person, but you did believe in the superstition that the colour black brings misfortune.

“Are the decorations up to your expectations, Mr Jeon?” the receptionist nervously asks, “We’ve followed the reference pictures and instructions you’ve given us.”

“Umm… Could I –” your breath catches in your throat when both men turn their attention to you. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, “Not to your liking, doll?”

“No! No! The decorations are beautiful and the venue itself is grand,” you began, “But… Could we add a little bit of colour?”

The alpha crosses his arms, “Colour? You want to add colour?” He gestures to the venue, “You do realise that everything here is decorated with intention, right? Black represents strength, power, control. It’s to show dominance –”

You cut him off, “This is my wedding, too. Don’t I get a say in this?”

Wonwoo’s gaze hardens at your interruption, clearly not used to anyone defying him; much less an Omega that’s his soon-to-be wife. He narrows his eyes, a way to get you to back down without being too dominating so as to not scare off the beta of a receptionist; but you stood your ground. The air thickens, charged with tension.

“A little colour won’t hurt this black theme you have going on, Mr Jeon,” you state, crossing your own arms and taking a step forward, “You can have all the power and control you want, but I also deserve a say in how this day looks because it’s also my day.”

The silence hangs between you both, the weight of your words settling in. The receptionist watches with a bated breath and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. But then Wonwoo shifts, uncrossing his arms and turns to the receptionist, “Accommodate whatever requests the missus has.”

The receptionist visibly relaxes, nodding quickly as he whips out his tablet and moves to stand beside you as you walk around the venue, listing out the changes you wanted done.

“I love the black roses bouquet you’ve lined up down the aisle, but please add in some red roses. Switch out the black ribbons on the vases for white ones; you can barely see anything!”

Approaching the tables, you pick up one of the black napkins that’s been folded into a rose. You turn to the receptionist, “I want all the black napkins gone. Replace them with a burgundy red.” The receptionist jots down every detail, his fingers moving swiftly across the tablet screen as you continue to inspect the venue. Wonwoo watches you silently, impressed as you move with purpose and an air of confidence – something he rarely sees in an Omega.

You stare at the chairs that are draped in black fabric. “Are we welcoming death? I get the whole idea of this wedding to let it be known that you’re a mob boss, but at least have something that shows you have taste.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at your bluntness before the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smirk. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, but his gaze still holds a steady weight, almost as though he’s studying you.

“Taste…” he echoes, his voice low, as if contemplating your word. “This is a wedding, doll, not some fashion show.”

You gently graze your fingertips over the black fabric, “Exactly, a wedding. I get that this whole… dark and mysterious aesthetic is your thing, Mr Jeon, but at least have a bit of sophistication.”

You turn to face him fully, “I’m not asking for colourful flowers or for them to be placed everywhere or even pink ribbons. Just a little bit of refinement so it doesn’t look like a funeral.”

Wonwoo’s eyes narrow slightly, and he watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. He takes a step forward, his hands shoved into his pockets as he peers at the receptionist's tablet. “You’re changing everything, aren’t you?”

You meet his gaze, letting out a shaky breath as you try to maintain your confidence, “Not everything. Just enough for it to… look more like a wedding.”

The air remains thick, but there’s no hostility; just a slow understanding that’s beginning to form. After a few seconds, the Alpha lets out a quiet breath and gives a slight nod. “Alright, doll. I trust your judgement.”

He turns and walks out of the venue, saying he has a business call he needs to answer. The receptionist turns his attention back to you, “What would you like to be done with the chairs, um… Mrs Jeon..?”

You give the receptionist a small smile, “You can call me Miss Park. I’m not yet married to him to be called Mrs Jeon.”

The receptionist chuckles nervously, “Not exactly a chance I would want to take, umm… Missus.”

“Hmm, I’ll accept that term. Back to the chairs – let’s switch the black fabric for a red fabric, similar to the napkins. Have a black sash tied into a bow at the back, is that doable?”

The receptionist nods excitedly, tapping away at the tablet as he realises his commission for this wedding may be enough to seal him a quick vacation. “Yes, of course it is, Missus! Would that be all?”

You take one last look at the venue, glancing up at the chandeliers, “Just soften the lighting and we’re all settled.”

That was approximately six months ago, which means it’s been six months since your marriage to Jeon Wonwoo became official.

Park ___. That's your name, that’s who you are.

A small corner shop florist that was everyone’s go-to for event planning or last minute flowers. Everyone knew you by your flower shop. They knew you by your smile. They knew you as "the flower lady who always got your back!”.

Never in a million years would you think that you’d now be known as Jeon Wonwoo’s wife. Jeon Wonwoo’s Omega. Jeon Wonwoo’s mate.

To be frank, you hated the fact that all your years of hard work were being overlooked now that you were married or bound to Ashville’s most nefarious and powerful mob boss.

Your name, once synonymous with ambition and independence, was now whispered in hushed tones, attached only to his. Your achievements, your sacrifices, all the blood and sweat you had poured into carving your own path no longer mattered. To them, you were nothing more than an Omega claimed by an Alpha who took whatever he wanted.

The weight of your new… identity settles on your shoulders in tons. You imagined several shackles were locked around your limbs, cold and unyielding. It didn’t matter that you had built a name for yourself. Now, you were just his.

And the entire city knew it.

You hated the look people would give you – some with fear, some with pity. Others had a look of cruel amusement, as though they were watching a wild animal realising its cage had no door. That the cage was its new home.

It made your blood boil. You weren’t some weak, whimpering Omega who would roll over and get all submissive at the mere scent of their Alpha. You fought to stand where you were. But damn it all, thanks to the stupid bind fate had planned.

Wonwoo sat beside you in the limousine, both of you having just left a dinner event that was hosted by one of Wonwoo’s allies that was meant to celebrate his wedding. Not both of your weddings, just his. The entire night, you had been paraded around as though you were nothing more than an extension of him – his Omega, his possession, his wife. No one toasted to you, no one acknowledged you beyond hushed whispers and fleeting glances.

You clenched your fists, fingers curling into the fabric of your dress.

“You’re upset,” Wonwoo states, his voice smooth and calculating, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, amused smirk. “What’s bothering you, doll?”

“Don’t,” your tone came sharper than expected, so you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Your voice was less hostile when you spoke again, “Don’t call me that, please.”

Wonwoo’s smirk didn’t falter, but there was something in his eyes – amusement mixed with the faintest hint of challenge. He tilts his head, studying you as if you were some artifact or priceless painting that’s been put up for display. “Don’t call you what?” he asked, his voice now softer, but the command in his words can’t be missed.

You swallowed thickly, trying to mask the storm inside you as you held your ground. “Don’t call me doll,” you repeated, this time with more conviction. There was a slight tremble in your voice, betraying the raw emotion you were trying to suppress. “I… I’m not a doll, or some object. I’m a person.”

Wonwoo’s remains unreadable, though the intensity of his gaze and his posture didn’t change. But, there was a subtle shift, a quiet acknowledgment in his eyes. “I see my Omega bites back,” he chuckles, his tone teasing but there was a hint of respect behind it. “I must say, it’s quite… refreshing… Or, entertaining, for lack of a better word.”

You frown, “Entertaining?”

His eyes scanned your face, but there was no mockery in his gaze. Instead, there was something more akin to admiration, though when it comes to Jeon Wonwoo, deciphering any of his words or looks was like trying to get pigs to fly. “Well, it’s not every day you see an Omega go head-to-head with an Alpha. Especially if the Omega is now under the Jeon Family.”

“I can play that pretty little housewife you’re picturing,” you mumble, releasing your clenched fists in favour of crossing your arms, looking out the window, “Just don’t expect me to be all pliant and submissive twenty-four seven.”

Another deep chuckle leaves his lips. Something about his words, about how he says you were the first Omega to not heel to traditions makes you feel oddly proud. It was clear he still had his guard up, but at least in this moment, you could tell he’s trying not to push your boundaries or you too far.

“Relax, babydoll.”

Hmm… Perhaps you could accept that pet name. It’s much better than being called ‘doll’.

His voice is less teasing but there was still that underlying sharpness. “You’re still you, despite what society says. That defiance you have there? There’s power in that. Not many dare to challenge the expectations placed on them. Especially Omegas.”

His words sunk in, not as an insult, but as an observation; a praise. It was one that left you feeling both uncertain yet strangely affirmed. It’s the first time in a while that someone, aside from your parents, recognised your rebellion, your defiance as something more than just a nuisance. Let alone an alpha like Jeon Wonwoo.

He reaches out a hand, finding purchase on your thigh. You tense at his touch, the heat of his hand sending a jolt of electricity through your body. But, you don’t pull away, feeling the warmth of his fingers through the fabric of your dress.

“I see that fire you’ve got in you, ___,” he continues, his fingers slowly tracing the curve of your thigh, “And it’s not just for show, too.”

Your tone came out sharper than you intended when you replied, “You think you can control that?”

A sly smirk tugs at his lips, “Control? It’d be fun to break you, sure, but… I quite like the idea of having a feisty Omega by my side. Believe me, babydoll, I know what it’s like to prove yourself to be seen and acknowledged. I had to do the same to prove it to my father and grandfather. You didn’t think I was handed this position just like that, did you?”

"I don’t doubt you had to fight for it," you say quietly. "But I’m not here for a power struggle. Not with you, not with anyone."

He shifts slightly, giving your thigh a firm squeeze. “Look, babydoll, I don’t expect you to bend over my desk or lap whenever I tell you to. But, I do expect you to listen to me when it comes to your safety or if you’re ever caught in the crossfire of my dealings. Is that understood?”

You meet his gaze, feeling a shiver run down your spine. The grip he had on your thigh had goosebumps rising, but the touch wasn’t just possessive; it was also protective. A silent reminder.

“I know you’re more than capable of handling yourself, babydoll. But being capable doesn’t mean you have to face every danger alone, and in my world, in my life, it’s not kind to the unprepared despite their capabilities to be able to stand up for themselves.”

You bite back the words you want to say, about how you weren’t some fragile porcelain doll. That you didn’t need him to look after you like you’re some helpless Omega –

“I’m not asking you to give up the control you have over your life. I can see as clear as day that you’ve been able to manage just fine without an Alpha.” Oh.

“What I’m asking from you is to trust me when it matters. I know this marriage is out of convenience, for the sake of the mating bond, but you’re not someone I’m willing to let slip through the cracks either. Not without a fight.”

His words pulled your defenses down just a little, but you still held on tight to the edges of your resolve. Perhaps it was because of the many judgemental and snide comments you’ve received from others, especially Alphas, in the past that made you want to argue with him. The way he speaks, so calm and measured, you were itching to fight back.

But, something in his eyes stops you. There was no sign of mockery, no superiority – just a raw honesty you’d never thought you’d see in an Alpha. Much less the one that practically rules over the entire city.

“I didn’t ask for any of this…” You voiced out, sounding quieter than you’d intended. “I didn’t ask for you to be my mate. I didn’t ask for you to try and protect me.”

While he doesn’t flinch at your words, there’s a shift in his posture, a subtle tense in his shoulders that tells you he isn’t completely unaffected by your words.

“I know, babydoll,” his tone now tinged with something that feels like understanding, “But, believe me when I say that I am not asking for your submission. I’m asking for your trust. If I wanted to control you, I would’ve made that clear six months ago.”

“Can’t believe those bastards had to wait six months to do this stupid party…” you mumbled, cheeks heating up as you realised you sound like a girl throwing a little tantrum.

Wonwoo chuckles, “Well, our schedules have been overlapping. I think they expected us to go on a honeymoon for a while.”

“Tch, as if I’d ever want to be on the same bed as you.”

“Moving back to the topic earlier, I’m not asking for a leash, babydoll,” his voice is low, almost soothing. “I’m asking you to let me stand by your side when the world gets too heavy. Because it will. And when that happens... I don’t want you to face it alone. All I ask for is your trust and to let me understand you.”

You’re unsure of what to say next, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to think clearly. You’ve spent almost your entire life resisting the idea of relying on anyone, but here he is, asking for something as simple as your trust.

The sincerity in his words linger, and for the first time, you wonder if you’ve misjudged the Alpha. Maybe he wasn’t like the others that were trying to force their way into an Omega’s life. Maybe he wasn’t looking to bend or break an Omega so they’d be solely dependent on their Alpha.

Maybe he too was looking for something different. Something that goes beyond fated bonds and forced relationships.

You look at him, and for the first time, you allow yourself to wonder if there’s a part of you that could trust him.

He pulls his hand away from your thigh, fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary, as if reluctant to break the contact.

“But, there’s clearly something bothering you, babydoll. C’mon, out with it.”

You hesitate, lips parting, but no words come out. You’re not sure where to start or if you even want to start. Part of you still wants to keep everything bottled up, to keep your walls firmly in place. But then there’s him, sitting beside you with that quiet patience, the intensity in his gaze softened just enough to make you believe he might actually care about what you’re about to say.

You shift slightly in your seat, arms tightening around yourself. “That… That Juyeon guy at the dinner…”

Wonwoo's expression darkens almost instantly, the warmth in his gaze snuffed out like a candle. His jaw tightens, and though he remains still, you can feel the way his entire body tenses at the mention of another Alpha’s name.

“And, what about him, babydoll?” His voice is calm, a little too calm. It’s the kind that you know he won’t like your answer.

You swallow hard, “He… The way he spoke to me…”

You sigh, “Look, I know it’s inevitable that people will start addressing by ‘title’ instead of my name. Wonwoo’s Omega. Wonwoo’s wife. But, I don’t like it being said in a condescending tone. The way he called or referred to me as Wonwoo’s little Omega felt as though I was just another weapon or gun you’ve added to your already large collection.”

You shift a little, the frustration simmering beneath your skin as you try to put your feelings into words. “I don’t want to be reduced to that. To just another thing you own. It’s already hard enough that I had to not cuss him out for trying to feel me up the entire time…”

Wonwoo stills.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

The air between you crackles with something dangerous. His expression doesn’t change, doesn’t twist in anger or morph into something openly furious, but the sheer stillness of him is enough to make the hairs on your arms stand on end.

“Say that again, babydoll” he orders, and though it’s barely above a whisper, it’s the sharpest you’ve ever heard his voice. “What did you just say?”

For a moment, you wonder if you’ve screwed up by making such an accusation or statement about his associate. But, you pushed on, “Juyeon… He kept brushing up against me on the table. Placing his hand on my knee, my thigh. He’d touch my back too when he had the chance.”

Wonwoo doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

But then, he slowly exhales through his nose, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek as if trying to keep his composure.

“I see.”

Two simple words. And yet, something about the way he says them sends a cold shiver down your spine.

“Wonwoo–”

“Mingyu,” he calls out to the driver.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Tell Jihoon to pass a message to Juyeon. I’d like to have dinner with him tomorrow night. Just the two of us.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Wonwoo!”

“I told you I’d stand by you when it matters,” Wonwoo repeats his earlier statement, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “And this matters.”

You swallow, finding it harder to resist the pull of his words than you care to admit. The stubborn part of you wants to fight him, wants to tell him you don’t need his help, but you can’t deny how much relief it brings to know he won’t just stand idly as you get disrespected.

For the first time, you allow yourself to believe that he might actually be a good guy.

“You… run a clothing line?”

Wonwoo looks up from his desk, his eyes on you as you stand by one of the many shelves he’s lined up on the walls. In your hands was a photo frame with a photo of him and a blonde man standing side-by-side in front of a building.

“Is that very surprising, babydoll?” he asks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Just because my family runs the mafioso doesn’t mean I have to just run that business.”

Behind the pair was a store with the sign J&W. Wonwoo said it’s a combination of their initials, a collaboration of some sorts. When you asked why he can’t just open one under his own name, his reply was simply, “You really think people would dare to set foot into a shop that’s under my name?”

“This man… Is he a business partner? Shareholder?” A shadow looms over you and tilting your head backwards, it sits comfortably against his broad shoulder. Wonwoo hums, “You could say that. He’s… I consider Jeonghan a friend and if you know me well or long enough, I don’t offer my trust easily.”

“I’m guessing that trust also applies to the hiring process of your bodyguards?”

You’ve counted a maximum of… six bodyguards during your stay at his mansion. Well, excluding his right-hand man, Jihoon, that makes five. “Some… unfortunate incidents happened when I was younger that started my trust issues.”

His voice drops just a little, one hand coming up to rest on your waist. You don’t miss the way his jaw clenches briefly before relaxing, as though catching himself before slipping too deep into memory.

“Jihoon and I have known each other since childhood. Family relations all that so it’s natural I came to trust him.”

“The others?”

“They’ve earned their place and my trust.”

You look down at the frame before tilting your head back up, raising it a little, “And Jeonghan?”

Wonwoo takes the item from your hand, as if examining it before handing it back to you. “Ah, Jeonghan…” A quiet chuckle slips past his lips, “Let’s say he’s a different story… I actually met him through Seungcheol, one of the bodyguards. You’ve probably seen him around – buff, kind of gray-ish hair.”

“The one that’s always butting heads with Mingyu?”

A flicker of surprise crosses his features, “So you’ve been paying attention.” Amusement laces his tone, clearly not expecting you to do so. You narrowed your eyes, “Well, if I weren’t aware of my surroundings, I wouldn’t have been able to survive this long until you showed up, can I?”

He gives your waist a firm squeeze, pressing a kiss to your temple, an action that catches you off guard. “I suppose you have a point, babydoll,” he concedes, voice low. “And I suppose it’s hard to ignore the two when they’re at each other’s throat.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, they’re not exactly subtle… Or quiet. It is interesting to see Mingyu surrender or lower his head, though…”

Wonwoo chuckles, taking the frame off your hands and setting it back on the shelf. “They’re both betas, but Seungcheol does have more of a… I guess more dominant nature. We’d suspected him of being an Alpha initially, but tests proved otherwise.” He adjusts the frame slightly before turning his attention back to you. “Still, that doesn’t stop him from acting like one.”

“And Mingyu just… lets him?”

The Alpha shrugs his shoulders. “Mingyu respects strength. He may not always like it, but he knows when to back down.”

You hum in thought. “And Jeonghan? Where does he fit into all of this?”

“He and Seungcheol go way back if I’m not mistaken. I don’t know the full details, but from what I’ve gathered and from what they’ve told me respectively, they used to work together before Seungcheol decided to have a change in career paths.”

Another squeeze to your waist, “Jeonghan… plays by his own rules. Always has.”

You frown slightly, clearly confused by his words. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a businessman,” Wonwoo says simply, though there’s something guarded in the way he says it. “And like all businessmen, he knows how to get what he wants.”

That doesn’t quite answer your question, but you know better than to push too hard.

“Is he dangerous?”

Wonwoo’s lips curl at the question, but it’s anything but a smile. “He’s charming, I’ll give him that.. And that makes him the most dangerous of all.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You don’t know if it’s from his tone or the way his fingers finally slide away from your skin.

The air in the mansion felt… different.

You couldn’t exactly put a finger on it, but it just felt as though there was a shift to your surroundings. Your heart was racing despite it being a calm and quiet day, Wonwoo was out discussing a fashion deal and majority of the staff in his mansion were given specific orders to not bother you unless needed.

Your heart was racing faster than usual, your senses were heightened in a way that made your skin feel alive – and not in a good way. It was in a way that made your head dizzy. It was subtle at first, a warmth curling in your lower belly, an uncomfortable tingle spreading across your limbs that makes your skin far too sensitive to the air around you.

You ignored it at first – or at least, you tried to.

The mansion was eerily quiet. The grand halls, lined with cold marble and towering windows. Despite housing the most dangerous mafioso and his bodyguards, it felt safe. But, it could be because of Wonwoo’s presence and his pheromones.

Now, each step you took felt heavier, every breath felt sharper, and the very air felt charged with something oppressive.

You knew this feeling. You had been trained to recognise it.

But it was too soon. Far too soon.

You’ve kept track of your heat since it was revealed that you were an Omega. You’ve made sure to take your suppressants on time to prevent any mishaps, never missing a single dose. Yet, despite your careful planning and discipline…

Could it be Wonwoo’s pheromones?

It had to be – your cycle wasn’t due for another week, give or take.

You pressed a sweaty palm against the nearest wall, a sudden wave of dizziness washing over you. It started as a slow burn in your veins, a heat that swirled in your stomach and spread outwards.

It was definitely your heat. You could feel it creeping up, threatening to consume you if you didn’t act fast.

“Missus..?”

Mingyu.

“Missus, you don’t look so well,” the Beta points out, taking a step forward.

It was times like these that you were grateful for Wonwoo insisting that his staff were Betas. Before you came into the picture, it was to ensure no crossfires ever happened between him and an Alpha staff. Two or more Alphas under the same roof with some kind of “power imbalance” could lead to a hostile environment, and Wonwoo prefers peace and quiet… despite the field of work he’s in.

After you came into the picture, Wonwoo would answer that he didn’t want any unclaimed or stray Alphas pouncing on his Omega.

Mingyu sniffs the air and his ears perk up as he catches a whiff of sweetness in the air. It was sweet like candy and he instantly knew what was going on. Thankfully, his training somewhat prepared him for scenarios like this, albeit it was catered more towards Alphas.

“Missus, do you have any suppressants?” Mingyu, taking a cautious step forward so as not to agitate you. You shook your head, letting out a small sniffle, “I ran out of them… I-I was planning to get them some time this week because it isn’t due for another–”

“Okay, well, I could text Boss to pick some up for you once he’s done with his meeting,” the giant suggests, reaching out a hand to steady you when he notices the slight wobble in your stance. “In the meantime, you shouldn’t be out and about, Missus… Let’s get you–”

“What’s going on here?” Jihoon, Wonwoo’s right-hand, interrupts Mingyu’s sentence. The tall beta freezes, his hand hovering near your arm but not quite touching. His jaw clenched, glancing over his shoulder, meeting Jihoon’s sharp, assessing gaze.

Unlike Mingyu, who was all warmth and concern, Jihoon carried an air of cold efficiency, his presence cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. The right-hand man’s eyes flicker to you, his nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up on 

Jihoon’s eyes flicker to you, nostrils flaring slightly as he picks up on what Mingyu already had. His brows furrow, and a barely-there sigh escapes his lips. “Shit,” he muttered, noticing the way you swayed slightly against the wall, trying to regain your balance.

Mingyu lowered his hand, deciding that it was best to keep a respectful distance from you. “Missus is having a bit of a… situation,” he said, his tone careful. “She’s early and ran out of her suppressants. I was gonna text Boss–”

“Call him.” The right-hand man’s voice carried an authority that was impossible to ignore. While his eyes softened just a touch as your discomfort, they still held that calculative gaze.

The tall giant was hesitant, his thumb hovering over the screen of his phone. Every one of Wonwoo’s staff knew that calling him while he’s in any sort of meeting was serious. Texting was discreet, something that could be swept under the rug or dealt with later. But a call meant urgency. It meant that Wonwoo would have to drop everything, no matter what he was doing, to deal with the situation.

But a look from Jihoon has Mingyu cursing under his breath, tapping the call button and pressing the phone to his ear.

“Missus,” Jihoo’s tone while still authoritative, was softer than before. His gaze flickered to your hands that were trembling at your sides and against the wall. “Give me your hand.”

You’re momentarily confused, blinking up at him then lowering your gaze to his outstretched hand. His voice carried a quiet but insistent command, and despite the overwhelming wave of hormones washing over you, you obediently did so.

“You’ll be okay,” Jihoon murmured, though it seems he was reminding you rather than comforting you. “All the staff here are Betas, I’m sure Boss told you that. Your heat won’t affect us so there’s no need to fear us jumping on you.”

His gaze returns to Mingyu who’s speaking on the phone. “Won’t be long before Boss gets back. I’ll take you back to your room.” You nod your head, though you weren’t sure if it was in response to his reassurance or because you knew that your legs couldn’t walk without someone guiding you.

The walk through the halls felt like an endless blur, the air thick with both the scent of your heat and the tension of the situation. Your heart pounded in your ears, your breaths coming in short, uneven pants. The mansion, usually cold, felt suffocating now.

You barely registered when Jihoon pushed open a door, guiding you inside the room. You entered without a second thought, freezing when the scent hit you.

This wasn’t your room.

Your body recognised it before your mind did – the faint traces of musk, crisp cologne, and something that was deeply ingrained in your instincts. Your entire being tenses as you realised exactly where Jihoon had brought you.

Wonwoo’s room.

You let out a whimper, the lingering remnants of the Alpha’s pheromones made your entire body tense. He wasn’t even here yet, and you were already drowning in him. You stared at the king-sized bed, your body wanting to sink into it, to bury yourself in the softness of the sheets that still held the imprint of his presence. But, the rational part of your mind knew better.

Your sluggish thoughts tried to fight through the dizzying fog, “Jihoon, this- this isn't–”

“I know, Missus,” he interrupts cooly, “But, I'm going to assume this is your first heat that's induced by an Alpha’s pheromones. It'd be best to get used to Boss’ pheromones – not just for your heat, but for your well-being too.”

“Well-being?”

With surprising gentleness, he guides you to the edge of Wonwoo’s massive bed, lowering you to sit onto the cool sheets. It was a stark contrast to your fevered skin. Your mind screamed for you to leave, to fight the Beta and make a run for it to your room – but your body betrays you as it reacts to the lingering scent of Wonwoo’s pheromones. 

Before you can do anything, you instinctively crawl onto the bed, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you as you’re pulled towards the only source of comfort in your current suffocating haze. You somewhat collapsed onto the mattress, burying your face into it and inhaling deeply, a pathetic whimper slipping past your lips as your thighs clench with need.

Your fingers curled into the fabric, your entire body as the Alpha’s scent wrapped around you like a vice.

You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be reacting like this.

You should be fighting this, clawing your way out of this haze and demanding to be taken back to your own room where you can suffer through this alone. But your instincts don’t care for logic. Instead, you’re in Wonwoo’s room, trembling and desperate, drowning in a need so raw it leaves you gasping.

You hated how easy it was to succumb.

And then it happens.

A shift in the air.

A choked noise left your lips as his scent filled the room completely, no longer just a lingering trace but a full, undeniable presence.

You sit up immediately, turning your head back to the door behind you before you can even think. It was an instinct, your body responding to an unspoken command before your mind can even have time to process anything.

“Nonu…”

Wonwoo definitely broke several speed limits on his way back to base.

The second he saw Mingyu’s name flash across his phone screen – not a text, but a phone call – he knew something was wrong. He brought the device to his ear, nothing more than a clipped ‘Speak’. Once Mingyu announced ‘Missus is early’, he ended the call and left the meeting without a word.

He didn’t care who was speaking. Didn’t care about the confused stares or hushed murmurs as he strode out the boardroom.

The only thing that mattered to him was getting back to you.

He stopped by a pharmacy, picking up several bottles of heat suppressants and a few cooling patches before speeding the rest on his way home.

Wonwoo storms through the halls of the base, his coat thrown onto the couch, his tie loosened and his jaw set tight.

Everyone knew they had to stay the hell out of his way.

His staff, the Betas, moved to the sides, pressing their back against the walls as he passed. Nobody dared to meet his gaze, not even Seungcheol – especially when the Alpha’s scent was laced with irritation – thick and suffocating in the air.

Grabbing a bottle of suppressants and a packet of heat patches from the plastic bag, he tosses the bag to a nearby staff. “Chan, store the suppressants in the missus’ bathroom cabinet. Cooling patches go in the mini fridge for her skincare.”

Chan nodded quickly, following the instructions.

Approaching his room, Jihoon steps aside from the door and slips past him without so much as a glance back. There was nothing that needed to be said. The right-hand man had done his job. Now, it was Wonwoo’s turn.

He entered the room and his expression was unreadable as he took in the scene before him. His nose twitched as your pheromones had practically covered every corner of his room. Sensing his presence, he watches as you sit up on your knees, head turning back and making eye contact with him.

“Nonu…”

He hears your breath hitch as he draws closer, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

“You really are a handful…” His voice was smooth, almost lazy. But, there was something else beneath it, something dark. It caused a shiver to run through you. Whether from arousal or fear, you’re not sure.

He steps closer, footsteps slow and deliberate. With each step he takes, a spike of awareness shot throughout your body. Your body reacts instinctively to his presence, knees pressing together in an attempt to soothe the ache inside your stomach. But, you knew it wouldn’t work.

Nothing did.

Not the cool sheets, not the distance that grew shorter and shorter.

By the time Wonwoo reaches the edge of the bed, your entire frame is trembling. He tilts his head to the side and exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair.

“Nonu…”

Fuck. Your voice sounded so wrecked that the Alpha’s breath stuttered for just a second.

It sounded so needy, trembling with something raw that managed to slip through the cracks of Wonwoo’s self-restraint. His fingers twitched at his side before crossing his arms in front of his chest, the black button up straining slightly against his forearms and chest.

Your mind grew foggy as his scent grew thicker, wrapping around you completely. Before your mind could even process it, your body moved on its own – crawling to the edge of the bed to be closer to where he stood.

Wonwoo didn’t understand why Jihoon would bring you to his room (he does, he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it). You should be locked in your room, alone and away from him. Yet, here you were – right in the center of his personal space, clinging to the sheets like they were the only thing anchoring you to your senses.

The worst part of it all?

You looked like you belonged there.

He reaches out, cupping your cheek and tilting your head up. A small, needy whimper slips from your lips before you even realise. He orders you to stay still and you do, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. Wonwoo presses the pill to your tongue and the bitter taste barely registers past the haze in your mind.

“Swallow.”

You obey instantly, throat bobbing as you swallow the suppressant without protest. You opened your mouth again, showing him that you had done exactly as he ordered.

Wonwoo’s jaw tightened.

The fact that you took the suppressant without much fight should have relieved him, but it didn’t.

Because your lips trembled.

Because your pupils remain dilated.

You close your mouth, another whimper slipping free as you nuzzle your cheek into the palm of his hand that cupped your cheek. Both of you knew the heat won’t subside immediately, that it would take up to hours for the suppressant to actually kick in.

After a few moments, Wonwoo pulls his hand away and lets out a slow, measured breath.

“Good girl.”

Two words.

Just two simple words.

And yet, your entire body shudders.

His eyes darkened for a brief second before he stood to his full height, pulling his hand away as he took a step back. You whine at the loss of his hand against your kin, blinking up at him and Wonwoo swallows hard.

“Don’t.” His voice came out tighter than he intended, “Don’t look at me like that, babydoll.”

Like he was the only thing you needed.

Like he was the only one that could save you.

“Nonu, please,” you whined, “Make the pain go away.”

Wonwoon’s self-control snapped and before he could even think, he was on you. One hand came up to cup the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head up.

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

It wasn’t soft and gentle.

It was desperate – a clash of heat and hunger, of pent-up frustration.

You gasped into his mouth, fingers fisting into his shirt and his grip tightened. Wonwoo presses his lips harder against yours as he swallows every whimper, every soft plea. Your heat was drowning him, making him forget every single rule he had set for himself.

He knew this was reckless. Knew that this could have dire consequences.

But when you moaned against his lips, the noise soft and needy, every ounce of logic flew out the window. His tongue slid against yours, deepening the kiss as if he was attempting to steal the breath from your lungs. His hands moved, sliding down your thighs and gripping them just enough to make you gasp again.

Wonwoo thinks he could still salvage what little control he had as he presses you deeper into the mattress – at least until he hears you whisper his name. The sound was soft, pleading – ruined, even. And he realises that it was already too late.

He’s gone.

“I’ll only help you this one time,” Wonwoo’s voice was low, dangerously low. He sounded controlled, but the way his hand gripped your thighs; the way his gaze dropped to your lips betrayed the inner turmoil he was facing. “Understood?”

You nodded immediately and he narrowed his eyes. But there was no mistaking the way your body arched towards him like it already knew what it wanted. His hands slid up your sides and under your shirt – his rough, calloused hands running against your smooth skin.

Just this once, he told himself.

Just tonight.

Just until the suppressants kicked in.

“Nonu!”

Fuck. The way you cried out so prettily for him had him curl his fingers deeper inside you. He was supposed to be in control, not let his instincts take over. But, damn it, the way you begged his name in that desperate, pleading tone had him losing focus.

Truth be told, Wonwoo always had a distaste for the heat and rut cycles. They were messy, primal; a reminder of how little control he had when it came to instincts like this. His body screamed for release, for dominance, but discomfort clawed at his mind.

But, God, the way you reacted to him. Every touch, every whine of his name, it ignited something he couldn’t deny.

Your back is pressed against his chest, the fabrics clinging to your skin damp with sweat and fever, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you could feel was how good his fingers were working inside you – skillful and relentless.

The fabrics between you only intensified the ache. Your night shorts were thrown somewhere into the corner of his room, the shirt somewhat bunched around your hips while Wonwoo, still fully dressed, sat behind you with his back against the headboard. His chest felt warm against your back, the steady breaths he let out betraying the tension vibrating through his body.

You keened, one arm thrown back to hold the back of his neck in an attempt to ground yourself. “Nonu…” You whimpered, voice cracked and ruined. “N-Need more. Please, I–”

“I know,” he growls against the side of your neck, voice strained. His lips brushed your skin, not quite a kiss, but the warmth made your entire body shudder. “I know, babydoll. Your poor pussy needs more, right? Your heat has you all hot and aching, doesn't it?”

His free hand rests on your waist, anchoring you against him as his fingers curled again – this time slower, as though he’s searching for something. “She’s begging, babydoll. Dripping and sucking my fingers in like she knows who she belongs to.”

A sharp gasp leaves your lips and Wonwoo feels your body tremble. Your legs try to snap shut and he whispers into your ear, “That the spot?”

You nodded, back arching as his fingertips continue to bully your g-spot. You could feel him pulsing hard through his pants, pressed flush against your ass. Every clothes rut of his hips against you has you crying out – needy, frustrated.

Your thighs are trembling violently now, the tension coiling deep in your gut and it was ready to break. Wonwoo continues to stimulate that spongy spot, his fingers working to open you up with expert precision. “You’re close, aren’t you, babydoll?”

You could only nod, not trusting your words as your mouth parts to let out a high pitched moan as your body surged towards the edge. He presses his fingers until they’re knuckle deep inside you, curling up right against that spot as his thumb circles over your swollen clit.

“C’mon,” he rasps into your ear, “Cum for me.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up.

White hot pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurs and your entire body seizes as you cried out, body jerking against the Alpha behind you as a gush of wetness spilled over his hand and soaking the sheets beneath you.

Wonwoo doesn’t move. Instead he holds you tighter, hands still resting between your legs but his thumb circles your clit in a manner that was meant to ground you. You're gasping and shaking in his arms, hands trying to push at his wrists, desperate but weak. You aren’t sure if it was overstimulation or if you wanted him to give you more.

His voice was low, full of something far too tender for the way his heart was racing – for the way he’d always acted. “Good girl. Did so well for me.”

Wonwoo looks down at you only to be met by you looking up at him, eyes glassy and lips parted in a silent plea. You were flushed and panting in his lap, slick coating his fingers.

Despite his distaste for these cycles, he knew he’d do it again.

He hated how much he realised he loved this, how he could pull those sounds from you.

But, he loved how he was the only one who could pull those noises from you.

Loved how you trusted him through it.

Wonwoo carefully pulls out his fingers, ready to move you back to your room – then you whimper out his name like it was a prayer meant just for him.

“Babydoll,” he growls lowly, voice rough and filled with warning. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Yet you did.

Maybe it was the scent of your heat. Maybe it was the way you clung to him, silently begging him. Maybe it was the way that nickname you called him rolled off your tongue like he was your God.

He’s quick to have you pressed against the mattress, hips flushed against yours as he finally gives in to the carnal pull. You hear him fumbling with his belt and the sound of his zipper coming undone. The sudden shift in the situation knocks the air straight from your lungs.

One moment he’s cradling you in his arms, the next you’re sprawled beneath him; his hands on either side of your head to not just keep himself up, but to keep you right where he wants you.

Where you need to be.

You gasp out his title – not his name or that cute lil nickname you just gave him, but his title. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fingers claw into the bedding, silently begging for him to just fill you up.

And he does.

In one thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and savours the way you cry out to him, body arching as your pussy clamps down on him.

He leans over you, chest pressed against yours, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Feel that, babydoll? That’s me shaping your pussy so that it only knows how to take my dick.” He pulls his hips back, just until only his tip remains inside before slamming forward, making sure you feel him in your womb. “Wanted me to fuck you? Well, I’m gonna give it to you.”

A needy sob escapes your lips as he sets a punishing pace; and he chuckles lowly, hot breath against your neck. His lips part and he bites down on your neck, hard, claiming the spot with a bruising mark. You gasp, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure through your core, causing your pussy to squeeze him tighter.

Wonwoo growls, hips stuttering for just a moment before he thrusts even deeper, harder – making sure your walls remember every vein, every inch.

“My sweet Omega,” he grunts against your skin, voice rough and possessive. His tongue darts out to soothe the bite. You mewl, feeling the imprint of his teeth as though he was trying to brand you as his.

Your hands scramble for purchase, settling on his back and your nails dragged down his back as he fucks you through every tremble, every whimper.

“You like that, dontcha babydoll?” he sits up, knees digging into the mattress as his hands grip your hips so tightly you were sure it’d start to bruise. All you could do was nod, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he coos condescendingly, one hand sliding up your body to wrap itself loosely around your throat. He didn’t apply any pressure, just letting it sit there as a reminder of his control, his claim.

And it was like a switch flipped.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips, back arching off the mattress as more slick drips out of your pussy, creating a white ring of cream around the base of the Alpha’s cock.

You didn’t mean to react the way you did, and Wonwoo felt it.

The way your walls clenched around him tighter, the sudden wetness coating where your hips met.

“Oh?” his tone was dark with approval, “You like that?”

“S-So good, Alpha,” you choked out, mind growing hazy from your heat and the pleasure, “Love.. Love it so much! Feels s’good!”

His thrusts grew rougher as something primal took over. He removes his hand from your throat, sliding it down your body to rub tight circles over your clit. Your back arches as a sharp cry tears from your throat, body trembling uncontrollably. Slick gushes out from your pussy as you squirt again, drenching his shirt and milking his cock.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, hips stuttering at the milking compression of your cunt. “Shit, I’m close, babydoll. And you're gonna let me fill you, isn’t that right?”

You nodded through the haze, words slurred by pleasure, “A-Alpha!”

That was all it took. With one final thrust, Wonwoo buries himself to the hilt as his cock twitches inside you as he cums deep inside you. 

The room was thick with the scent of your heat and sex, but all Wonwoo could hear was the sound of your soft, uneven breaths – body still trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure, barely conscious of anything except for the way he filled you to the brim.

He stayed buried inside you for a moment longer, reluctant to leave the warmth of your creamed pussy. But when he hears your soft whimper, noticing the way your body twitching from oversensitivity, he’s snapped back to reality.

Wonwoo groans as he carefully pulls out, a groan escaping his lips at the sight of his cum spilling out from you – coating the insides of your thighs and dripping onto the sheets beneath you. You whimper at the emptiness, at the sudden cold air on your overheated skin.

He doesn’t say anything, only tucking himself back into his pants and stands up.

For a moment, you thought he’d leave you in his room – maybe even go as far as to sleep in one of the guest rooms.

But then, you hear the faint rustling of the plastic bag before the mattress dips beside you.

Wonwoo leans over, gently brushing away the sweat-damp strands of hair from your forehead. You can barely keep your eyes open, the heat and aftermath pulling you under.

Then, coolness.

A soothing, mental chill spreads over your fevered skin as he places a cooling patch on your forehead. You let out a shaky breath, weakly reaching out for him.

Wonwoo takes them in his.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his voice no longer holding that sharp or commanding tone. Instead, it sounds softer. “I’ve got you babydoll.”

His other hand adjusts the sheets around your body, tugging the blanket up to your waist after retrieving your night shorts from the floor. He made sure your legs weren’t tangled, made sure you were comfortable.

You blinked up at him sleepily, cheeks still flushed a shade of red and lashes slightly damp. “Please stay, Nonu…”

He freezes.

For a moment, the only sound was his breath, still a little uneven. You could tell he was torn between his old habit of keeping you at arm’s length and giving into his instincts.

Without uttering a word, he eases under the covers beside you, gently pulling you into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, strong and warm, as he nuzzles his face in your hair. “Of course, babydoll. You’ll sleep easier if I’m here.”

Wonwoo never stays. Once he’s made sure you’re in good hands, he'd leave.

But, tonight wasn’t like the others.

Tonight, he stayed – not to keep his distance, but to keep you close.

Tonight, he stayed to protect you.

His.

You felt it then– the way he held you. Not like a favour, but like someone claiming what’s his.

Weeks after that incident during your heat, you and Wonwoo went on with your lives as though nothing had happened. The mansion returned to its usual rhythm – quiet mornings, the hum of the electric kettle.

Wonwoo buried himself in work, occasionally checking up on you as per his mother’s command, occasionally picking you up from your flower shop instead of leaving it to Mingyu. They were… small efforts into making the marriage look less of a business arrangement, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

You busied yourself with your own work, too. But, you’d still go grocery shopping and prepare meals for the people of the mansion (which frankly, was a task you overestimated because cooking for 6 people proved to be a difficult task). They’d thank you, of course – you went through all the time and effort – it’d be wrong for them not to appreciate it and clean up after themselves.

However, you were careful to not let yourself brush against the Alpha for too long. Nor would you let your thoughts drift back to the night where tangled limbs and breathless whispers once filled the space.

While you both went on with your lives, acting as though nothing had happened – there was a subtle shift in the air.

Mingyu was the first to notice it.

Being one of the bulkier guards, he had been stationed at the mansion to keep an eye on things during your off days. It was a simple routine he took a liking to – he gets to have a nice conversation with less scarier missus and it was considered low stake.

That morning started out no different than the others. You passed him in the hallway, offering a soft habitual “Morning, Gyu” as you balanced a basket of laundry against your hip. He nodded in return, returning the smile and his eyes followed you until you turned a corner.

His nose twitched as he picked up the smell of something… sweet. Like the first bloom of spring in the middle of winter.

It was far too faint for it to be a heat cycle, but it still lingered in the air.

Mingyu couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. You looked the same, moved the same. But there was something different about your aura.

Wonwoo only noticed the sweetness of your pheromones once Mingyu brought it up.

He’d pause a little longer when he passed you in the hallway, fingers twitching just a little when your scent clung to the couch after sitting on it for hours. His jaw would flex when you leaned over him to grab something from the kitchen shelf.

Yet, he didn’t say anything.

Neither did you.

You hear the door open just past midnight.

Muted voices. Heavy boots.

You catch a whiff of the faint, metallic tang of blood and turn your head towards the front door.

Wonwoo was the first to enter, as always. His expression is calm, unreadable. His coat hung open, dark with flecks of something you didn’t need to guess. Jihoon followed close behind, quieter than usual. His shirt was stained too, though he’d slug his jacket over his arm to conceal most of it.

He looked… calmer. The tiredness in his eyes were evident, but he didn’t have that frenzied look he always had. There was no smirk, no offhand remarks about which body part he sliced off, where he left it or if he convinced Wonwoo to break every bone of their rivals.

You stayed curled on the far end of the couch, a soft blanket on your lap with a book in hand. “Hi, boys. Long night?” You asked, tone casual but laced with something warmer

“Hey, Missus,” Jihoon responds, brief but polite. “Kinda.. But, we got it under control.”

He disappears down the hallway without another word, tugging off his bloodied gloves. Wonwoo follows a beat later, slinging his coat over one shoulder, a faint dark red smear on his jaw. “Have you had dinner, babydoll?” His voice was oddly warm.

You nodded your head, “Gyu made some aglio olio with steak. There should be some leftovers in the fridge for you.”

Wonwoo nods in response. He continues to stand there, looking at you like he was still figuring out he’s supposed to get used to coming home to this – to you.

You look back at him, and he notices the subtle way your nose wrinkled at the scent clinging to his nose, how your fingers twitched against the cover of the book you’re holding.

“I’ll go shower,” he mumbles, voice lowering. It almost sounded like an apology in disguise.

He walks up the stairs, halting momentarily to look back at you. That scent of yours still hangs in the air – sweet, distracting. Wonwoo stands there for a few more seconds before disappearing in the halls of the house, leaving silence and a rising heat in your chest.

He reappears moments later, now in a loose shirt and pyjama pants – looking more like a sleep-deprived graduate student than a man capable of unspeakable violence. He heads towards the kitchen and you follow him, feet quiet against the hardwood floor.

The house felt too big at that moment, the silence stretching between the walls like it was listening. The Alpha doesn’t say anything, just moving with the practiced ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times – opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of chilled wine. It was like he belonged in the silence.

The overhead light pooled golden over him, catching in the soft fall of his hair, the sharp line of his jaw. The loose fabric of his shirt clung to the curve of his shoulder, just barely damp from the shower he just took, and you caught yourself staring – longer than you should have.

“You’re not gonna eat what Gyu made?” you asked, breaking the silence between you both before it could swallow you whole.

Wonwoo didn’t look back at first, popping the cork with one clean motion and pouring himself a glass with a kind of ease that spoke about how often he did this – like he was numbing or avoiding something.

“It’s cold now,” he answers, voice quiet but not dismissive. The wine filled his glass with a smooth swirl of deep red.

Then, without a word, he reached for another glass.

Not for wine.

He filled it with water from the chilled filter on the fridge, the sound soft and steady in the stillness of the kitchen. He sets it down on the counter near you and you blinked. There was no eye contact nor explanation, but the gesture settled somewhere deep in your chest.

You take a step closer, fingers brushing against the cool glass as you pick it up. “Thanks..” You take a sip and set it back down, leaning against the counter with your arms folded loosely. “But, just because the food is cold means it’s bad.”

“I’m not hungry.”

You watch him bring the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before setting it down with a soft clink. His gaze lingered on the dark liquid, as though he was contemplating something.

“You didn’t even look at the plate,” your voice wasn’t accusatory, it was just gentle – just there.

Wonwoo lets out a breath, not exactly a sigh. “Didn’t need to.”

The silence that followed felt different – it felt tighter.

Then, without thinking, you moved a little closer. Just enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. Just enough for your voice to come out quieter when you asked, “Do you ever let yourself take a break, Nonu?”

Wonwoo’s jaw tensed. He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “I take a break when I sleep.”

“You barely sleep…”

You see a flicker in his eyes – you touched something.

He knew it.

You knew it.

But he didn’t run from it, at least not this time.

“Then I guess I don’t stop,” his reply was low, maybe a little bit more honest than he meant it to be.

You stood there for a beat, the glass cool in your hands – the silence wrapping around you both like a blanket that was too heavy to shake off. Your eyes dropped to the way his fingers held the wine glass, knuckles still faintly pale from tension. The condensation on your own glass trickles down your fingers, as though it was trying to ground you in the moment.

“Are you hurt anywhere, Nonu?” The question came out softer than you meant it to be – it sounded warm and it lingered in the air. You didn’t look at him directly, just watching the condensation slide down the side of his glass.

“No.”

It was clipped. Cold. Dismissive.

The kind of answer that was meant to end the conversation before it could even start. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. Of course – you weren’t supposed to ask. You weren’t supposed to care – not like that. Not out loud.

He didn’t move at first. Just standing there, knuckles pale against the glass as his eyes locked on some distant point past the kitchen tiles. The silence stretched, heavy and humming, until he sniffs your sweetness in the air again. The sweet scent relaxed his posture, his shoulders dropping just a little and his grip around the glass loosened.

You watched him carefully, heart thudding in your chest and your voice caught before you even knew you were going to speak again.

“Can… Can I sleep with you tonight, Nonu?”

The words hang in the air, delicate and trembling.

It was too soft to take back. Too honest to ignore.

His fingers stilled around the glass, the sound of the fridge humming filled the silence that followed. You hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but it had. Your heart thudded in your chest, loud enough to drown out the quiet.

Wonwoo stares at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes seemed darker tonight, shadowed by something you couldn’t quite place a finger on. He looked tired – not just physically-bone-deep tired, but it was like the world had taken a little more from him than he was willing to admit. Whatever he and Jihoon did out there, it still clung to him like smoke.

“Trouble sleeping lately, babydoll?” His voice was surprisingly soft, low and quiet like he didn’t want to wake the others in the house.

You nodded, looking at the glass in your hand. “The air’s been… weird lately. A-And, it’s hard to sleep without you lately.” Your fingers tightened slightly around the glass, voice barely above a whisper – shaky and raw, “I-I don’t know why but it is… Especially when you’re gone.”

He was still staring, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up – not when you knew his expression is all it takes to undo you.

Another beat of silence.

One second.

Two.

Then, you hear a quiet breath escape him. His glass clinks on the counter as he sets his drink down.

His voice was soft, “Come on, babydoll.”

His response caught you off guard. When you looked up, he was already turning away, walking toward his room – but his pace was slower than usual. As though he was waiting for you to catch up to him.

Your heart flutters, warmth flooding your chest even as your legs carry you forward. Wonwoo doesn’t say anything when you slipped into his room behind him, the bed dipping under your weight. The mattress sighs softly when you settle in beside him – it wasn’t the first time you shared a bed, but it was the first time you asked to.

You lay on your side, back facing him as you clutched the edge of the blanket like it was the only thing anchoring you. Wonwoo doesn’t move for a while, but you could hear his breathing – steady, though it was a little too measured to be natural. Awake. Thinking.

Maybe regretting this decision.

Your throat tightens, tears brimming in your eyes as you start to overthink.

But then, quietly, just barely there, you feel the blanket shift. The mattress dips again, and your back feels warmer as his body inches close. It doesn’t touch, though it was there.

There was a beat of silence, the tension in the air so thick that you could feel it pressing against your skin.

Then, slowly his arm slips around your waist. It was slow enough to almost break you. Your breath hitches, but you don’t stop him. You don’t move, letting yourself sink into him. His hand rests lightly on your stomach, not in a possessive manner; just there, offering you a grounding presence.

“I don’t sleep well because I worry of the danger you’re in by being my mate,” he murmurs, voice almost buried against the back of your neck. “Not when I come back from that kind of work. Not unless I know you’re safe.”

You close your eyes, something in your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his voice, a kind of raw honesty he rarely ever let slip.

“I am safe, Nonu,” you whispered, “With you.”

He doesn’t say anything, but the way his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, the way his forehead lightly brushes against your shoulder… It was enough.

You didn’t say another word. You didn’t need to.

Sleep came slowly that night, but this time – when it did, it came easier.

And for the first time in what felt like weeks, neither of you woke up alone.

Wonwoo stayed late at the office one night. The quiet hum of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows did little to distract him from the glow of his screen or the dull ache that was beginning to form behind his eyes.

Numbers blurred, reports repeated themselves – he was going through the motions, more out of habit than necessity.

His phone buzzed. His mother.

“Mother?”

“Wonwoo,” her voice was soft, but there was a certain sharp edge to it. “You’re working late again?”

“I am,” he said flatly, not annoyed – just a little confused as to why his mother was calling him.

“Go home, Wonwoo. Be with your mate. She needs you.”

The words stung more than it should have.

“She has Mingyu and Chan looking after her–”

“She doesn’t need them, Wonwoo.” Her voice firmer, “She needs you. Her Alpha.”

“What’s this about, Mother?”

“It’s hard for me to explain this over the phone, Wonwoo. Just… Just go home and be with ___, okay?”

The line disconnects before he could respond. Staring at his phone, his thumb hovers over the redial button, demanding answers.

He never got the chance.

His phone rang again – this time, Mingyu’s name flashes across the screen.

It was never a good sign when his men called him.

He picks it up on the first ring. “What?”

“Boss– Wonwoo– fuck,” Mingyu’s voice was shaking, breathless. “Where are you? Missus is gone. The door was busted in, Chan’s unconscious near the stairs and– fuck– there’s blood.”

The words don’t register at first.

“She’s gone.”

Wonwoo froze in his seat, phone pressed to his ear – Mingyu and Seungcheol shouting on the other end. Something about getting Chan medical help for a GSW to his abdomen. The office lights hummed quietly and everything around him felt… wrong. Too still. Too normal.

It was so… eerie.

Blood. Mingyu said there was blood.

“How messy is the place? How’s Chan?”

He finally stands up from the desk, papers fluttering off his desk, forgotten. His grip tightens around the phone until his knuckles whitened.

“It’s bad, Boss. This place is trashed, fuck.” Shuffling can be heard before Mingyu speaks up again, “Chan said she fought. Oh fuck, one of the guy’s face is clawed off.”

“Gyu!” Seungcheol’s voice rings through the background, “We got a survivor! Tell Wonwoo to come back quickly!”

Mingyu didn’t need to relay the message, already hearing Wonwoo starting up his car.

The Alpha’s jaw clenched so tightly that it started to ache. A sound clawed its way up his throat, something raw and ragged. But, he swallowed it down. “How long ago?”

“About an hour. Maybe less. Cheol and I went out to get some groceries and when we got back, we found the place like this.”

“Chan and Vernon?”

“Chan’s wound up pretty bad, but he’ll be okay. Vernon’s helping Cheol prepare the bastard that survived.”

Wonwoo exhales through his nose. He feels sick. His body wants to move, to run, to destroy something – but his mind was spiraling, trapped in the memory of your last interaction. Cold, casual and detached. Like you were just a roommate. Like he hadn’t felt the way you cling to him during that heat. Like he hadn’t felt you snuggle up close to him when you both fell asleep in the same bed weeks after.

He should’ve listened to his mother.

He should’ve come home.

“Make sure that bastard lives until I get there,” he ordered Mingyu, voice now low and lethal. “Tell Jihoon to get his switchblade ready.”

He ended the call and drove through the streets. The engine roars to life like it felt his fury, the sound tearing through the night as he shot out of the compound. Tires screamed against the pavement, and the city blurred past him – buildings, lights, the occasional flash of red as he burned through the intersections without hesitation.

You were his.

And someone had taken you.

He was going to make sure he’d put an end to those bastards.

Your head pounded.

The room swayed as you blinked awake, wrists bound behind your back and there was a coppery tang in your mouth. A single overhead light buzzed above you, like a spotlight focusing on the main lead, and the rest of the space was swallowed in the shadows.

Concrete walls. Damp floor. Industrial. Underground? Maybe.

You shifted, testing the restraints. You could move, but it’d take some effort to break free from them. Then you hear it.

Footsteps.

You stilled, keeping your head low as several men stepped into the room. You didn’t recognise their scents. They weren’t of anyone familiar to you. They weren’t Wonwoo.

One of them circled you, stopping somewhere behind you. “She’s smaller than I thought…”

“Yeah, but she’s feisty,” came another, his voice sharper. “Don’t let her face or size fool you. Bitch fucking bit me when we took her in. Had to knock her out to make things easier.”

One knelt in front of you, just out of kicking distance but you held back. “You’re awake.”

“Such amazing observation skills,” you snorted, blinking the haze from your vision. “What gave it away? My eyes being open or the fact that I’m glaring back at you?”

It was a shame they didn’t laugh.

“If you’re smart and behave, maybe we’ll go easy on you.”

You scoff, “Please, if you were smart, you’d know you made a grave mistake the moment you busted my front door in.”

The figure leans in slightly, expecting fear but all you offered was a tilt your head. “So, what’s the plan? Some kind of ransom? Revenge?”

The masked man tilts his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re not exactly acting like a scared little Omega.”

“Yeah, funny thing about that – I bark and bite. If you assholes think you can–”

Smack.

A sharp slap landed across your cheek as you were mid-sentence. The sting flared, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you take a deep breath and straighten your posture, licking the copper from the corner of your mouth. “Oh, my bad…” your voice was low, “But you really should’ve known better than to think I’d be the damsel in distress type.”

There were at least three of them when they returned after leaving you alone for hours. They still wore those black face masks, as if that was supposed to scare you.

One carried a metal case and the other cracked his knuckles, another move that was meant to scare you. But what was scaring you the most was how terrible their intimidation tactics were. You sat upright the best you could, back straight against the wooden chair, chin lifted like you hadn’t been bound for hours. Like you weren’t aching in places you hadn’t known could ache.

They didn’t speak at first, only opening up the case. Silver tools gleamed under the low light.

You arched a brow. “Wow. Dontcha think that’s a little dramatic? What happened to just asking nicely?”

One stepped forward and backhanded you, hard. Your head snapped to the side, cheek screaming from the impact, but you refused to give them the satisfaction of crying out in pain.

“Tell us everything you know about the Jeon clan,” demanded the man that opened the metal case. “Security. Other bases. Codes, if you know any.”

You spit at his face.

They didn’t like that.

The first hit was to your stomach – brutal and deep, knocking the breath from your lungs. Then another to your ribs, then your face again. You lost count after five, maybe six.

Still, you didn’t scream.

“Damn, this bitch can take hits.”

Pain blurred the edges of your vision, but you clung to consciousness with everything you had. You thought of Wonwoo. Of how he looked at you when you didn’t think you were watching. Of how he subtly showed his affection thinking you wouldn’t notice.

You thought about how furious he’d be if he were to see you in the state you were in. Wonwoo’s mother had previously mentioned their stand on crimes against women, how if their own had even a strand of hair plucked, the perpetrators would face dire consequences.

When they paused, panting like they’d been doing real work, one leaned in and grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging on it hard. “Last chance. Talk.”

The smile you gave had one of them flinching. Not because of how badly beaten up you looked, but because it bordered on the line of a psychotic smile.

“The Jeons don’t break, and neither do I. We fucking burn.”

These bastards sure as hell loved leaving you alone. Though you’d consider it to be a mistake on their end.

Your body was wrecked – ribs aching, lip split and bruises were already to form everywhere. But you were still breathing, still alive and that was enough.

You tilt your head back, blinking up at the ceiling through the haze of the pain. Blood dripped down your chin, but your hands were slick now – whether it was from blood or sweat, you couldn’t tell. You twist your wrists again, angling against the metal cuff just the way Wonwoo had shown you during one of his late-night, paranoid self-defense lessons. “If they bind you with steel, look for tension. Give it slack, then break it where it’s weakest. Everything has a weak point.”

It hurt like hell, but you kept going. The metal bites deeper into your skin before it snapped.

You stifle a gasp as the cuff breaks loose with a sharp clink. Your left wrist was bleeding freely now, but you didn’t waste a second. You made your way to the door, and to your surprise, it was unlocked. Either they didn’t you’d try, or they thought you couldn’t.

You slid out silently, stating low. You hear footsteps and muffled voices somewhere down the hall. Realising you needed a weapon, you decided to find their weapons storage. Your head spun, but you pressed forward and duck into the first door you saw.

Luck must’ve been on your side because it led you exactly where you wanted.

Guns were lined up on the tables, the overhead lighting making it seem more ominous than it already was. Your fingers shook as you picked up a semi-automatic handgun – sleek, back, loaded. Wonwoo’s voice echoed again, “Don’t ever hesitate to shoot. That gives them a room to attack. You pull the trigger the moment they come into view.”

You hear footsteps approaching and pressing your back up against the wall, breathing through your nose, waiting. You hold the gun close to your chest, and when the masked man steps inside, you don't hesitate.

Bang.

He dropped like a sack of potatoes, the sound of the shot echoes through the hallway.

There was no going back now.

Shouts echoed down the hall and you made a run for it. Turning a corner, you came face-to-face with two more men. They hadn’t expected you to be armed, by the time they noticed the gun in your hand and reached for theirs, you had already pulled the trigger.

You ran past their motionless bodies, trying to figure out where you were. The layout and interior – you knew you were in some kind of warehouse. Then you smell it – the night air, you were close to an exit.

You burst through a door, grunting in pain from the sheer force you had put on your shoulder to get the damn thing to open. Your knees almost gave out, the adrenaline making your hands shake.

You kept the gun raised, every shadow looked like another threat.

But you didn’t stop.

Not until you were safe. Not until you got back to Wonwoo.

But you weren’t able to get far.

The alley had opened into a dead-end loading yard and your heart dropped the second you saw the rusted fence, the padlocked gate.

A black van screeched to a halt behind you. You spun, gun raised – but hands grabbed you from both sides before you could even aim. You bit, clawed and kicked, but there were too many. They slammed you face first down onto the ground, a heavy knee to your back following. Your cheek scraped against the pavement and the gun slipped out of your hand.

“Hello, ___.”

You froze, your blood went cold.

Juyeon.

You turned your head enough to see him step into view. His suit was stained, fingers missing from both hands – four gone entirely with pink scars crusted where they’d once been. He flexed what was left, grimacing slightly as if the sight offended him.

Wonwoo had done that. You knew it because Jihoon had told you – how he encouraged your Alpha to cut off the fingers on his left hand so they were more… symmetrical.

“You fucking bastard,” you spat, “I’ll have them dismember you–”

His laugh cuts you off. “Still got some fight in you, I see,” he mused. “That’s what my men meant by you’re no ordinary Omega.” He crouches down, eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. “But you’re more useful to me if you shut the fuck up.”

You snarled, bucking under the weight holding you down. One of his men shoved your head back down as Juyeon took out a syringe from his suit. The liquid was thick, glowing a faint blue under the alley lights.

“You know what this is, little Omega?” he asked conversationally, “The labs call it Phase Nine. It’s new. Not on the market nor the black market.”

You went still.

“It’s a liquid heat inducer that’s designed to have your primal instincts override your rationale. It could even break bonded cycles.”

You thrashed, “Don’t you fucking touch me with that! I swear I’ll–”

“Hold her,” Juyeon ordered.

“No!” You kicked wildly, but the hands clamped down harder.

“I said hold her!”

You screamed when he jabbed the needle into your neck and depressed the plunger.

A cold, burning sensation spreads through your veins like ice catching on fire. Your limbs trembled violently and your lungs burned with every breath you take. You heard Juyeon chuckle as darkness begins to swallow your vision.

“Take a little nap,” he whispers, “And when you wake up, your body won’t resist anymore.”

You wake  to the sound of voices – low, mocking laughter. Your head throbbed, and your body felt… wrong. It felt as though weights were chained to your body and your head felt fuzzy. The heat inducers were still coursing through your veins, but you fought the haze, clinging to the remaining sharpness you had in the chaos of your mind.

You feel the fire burn from inside out, every nerve in your body screaming for release.

The door to the room opened and Juyeon stepped in, his fingers twitching where they were still missing. He wore that sharp, predatory grin on his face and how you wished you could slap it right off of his face. His presence was suffocating and the pheromones he was releasing stank up the room so bad you wanted to throw up.

You gritted your teeth and pushed yourself up from the cool, concrete floor. Your limbs felt like lead, but you couldn’t let him get close.

Only Wonwoo could touch you.

Not this disgusting bastard.

He notices the faint fight in your eyes and pauses, a cruel smile crept onto his face as he observes your struggle. “Shit, you are a tough one to break. Lucky for me I got more of those inducers to break you.”

He takes another step forward and your body tensed. “C’mere, Omega,” Juyeon coaxes, his voice so syrupy that it twists your stomach the wrong way. “Let me help you with that heat of yours, yeah? I’ve got something far better than the inducer you’re desperately fighting. Something real.”

You growl, throwing your body into him. Your actions startled him – he hadn’t expected you to fight, not with the drugs clouding your senses. But you didn’t need to be at your best. You needed to make him understand that you were more than just an Omega.

You got a punch in, a brutal hook to his jaw and knocking him back. Juyeon staggered, but he didn’t fall. His men moved, one lunging towards you; but you managed to catch his wrist, twisting it behind his back with a vicious snap, making him grunt in pain.

Another went for your throat, but you kicked up, shoes hitting him in the stomach that had him doubling over, gasping for air. It’s a shame you weren’t wearing your heels, would’ve left a mark on the bastard.

You moved again, a blur of motion and rage. You weren’t thinking nor did you care, you only had one goal – to survive.

Another man reached for your arm. You spun, elbowing him in the face then slamming your knee into his ribs. He staggers, gasping for breath. You were covered in sweat, heart pounding as your body rebels against the inducers.

One of Juyeon’s man was quick enough to grab you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides. “That’s enough,” Juyeon sneers, wiping the blood from his mouth. He grabs another syringe from the table, the liquid inside glowing a sickly blue. “You want to fucking fight? Fine. Let’s see how long you’ll last.”

You hissed, struggling against the man holding you, but the inducers were still tearing through you. The heat was unbearable, your vision swimming in and out of focus. You were starting to lose control.

“Fight all you want, sweetheart,” his voice was mocking as he approached with the needle. “But you’ll break eventually.”

Your hands were still unrestrained, and in that final moment of desperation, you grabbed an old pipe that lay on the ground. You swung it with all your might, hitting the nearest man across the skull. He collapsed with a sickening thud, and you barely had time to register the victory before Juyeon was on you again.

Your body was trembling, soaked in sweat as blood was smeared across your face and hands. The pipe clattered to the floor beside you, slick with someone else’s blood. Juyeon stood across from you, staggering as his face twists into something monstrous. The second that syringe slipped from his grasp during your scuffle, it shattered across the cement.

“You little bitch,” he spat, pulling out a switchblade from his pockets. “You think you’ve won?”

You didn’t answer, hands scrambling for the gun from one of his men on the floor. Your hands shook, but you raised the weapon anyway. Just like Wonwoo taught you.

Never hesitate when it comes to your life.

Juyeon takes a step forward and you pull the trigger.

Bang.

The scream that tore out of his throat was inhuman.

He dropped to his knees, clutching his crotch as the front of his pants soaked red. He writhed, gasping and cursing through clenched teeth. It wasn’t a clean shot, but you didn't want it to be.

Your hands were still trembling as you kept the gun trained on him. “Never… Never underestimate an Omega. Especially me.”

The door slammed open behind you. Boots thundered in, guns drawn and you hear voices yelling commands.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to.

You already know who it was.

“Clear the room!” Seungcheol’s voice echoed like thunder. “Get the Missus to safety and lock up any survivors!”

Vernon was quick to reach you, kneeling beside you as his hands tried to gently guide the gun down. “Hey, Missus…” he said quietly, “You’re okay now. We’ve got you.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to lower the gun. It was as though you feared that if you did, Juyeon would get up.

Then you smelled him.

Wonwoo appears through the smoke of bodies, his eyes immediately locking on yours. The sight of you, his mate – bloodied, shaking and bruised – had him on his knees by your side in the blink of an eye. Sure, you were alive; but you were hurt.

He doesn’t say a word, only pulling you into his arms and holding you like you were the last thing in the world that mattered. You didn’t even realise how cold you were until Wonwoo wrapped his arms around you.

His warmth crashed into you like a wave, and what very little strength you had left was gone as your body collapsed into his. You could feel the way his body shuddered as he held you, his breath ragged against your hair, like he hadn’t been breathing until that moment. His hand held the back of your head, fingers tangling in your messy hair like if he let go – you’d disappear.

“I’ve got you, babydoll,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I’ve got you now.”

You dropped the gun.

And finally, your body let go.

Wonwoo carefully knocks on the door, a way to announce his presence before sliding it open. His eyes meet yours and his shoulders slump when you give him a small smile. “Hey…” was all you managed to say before his giant stature envelops you in a tight embrace. The Alpha nuzzles into the crook of your neck, a quiet whine leaving his lips as he takes in your scent. It’s grounding, calming – proof that you’re here, safe, and his.

You melt into his warm embrace, your hands instinctively finding their way to his broad back. His tense muscles slowly relax under your touch, his soft whines turning into soft hums of contentment.

“I… I was so scared,” Wonwoo admits, “Scared I couldn’t find you, couldn’t reach you in time… I –”

“Nonu,” you call out softly, one hand moving up to comb through his dark locks, “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

He nods and pulls away, the crease in his brow not fully gone. “Yeah, but… I can’t help to think of the worst case scenario of what could’ve happened had we gotten there any later… ___, the doctors said you were practically battered. There’s even still traces of that heat inducer in your blood.”

You shudder at the memory of having the liquid injected into you, Wonwoo tightening his hold on you. “They didn’t touch you did they?”

“Well, it depends on what you mean by touch..?” It was more of a question than a statement, “They didn’t put their dicks in me if that’s what you’re wondering. I was drugged up and a little woozy, but I managed to fight them off until you guys showed up.”

“So, they did touch you,” he sighs, pressing a gentle kiss to your template. “I’ll deal with those bastards once I head back.”

He cups your face in his large hands, his eyes scanning your face as if committing every detail to memory. “How are you feeling, babydoll? Feeling any better?”

You manage a faint smile at Wonwoo’s concern, your fingers brushing gently over the back of his hand where it cradles your cheek. “I’m feeling better,” you murmur, though the ache behind your ribs and the lingering exhaustion paints a different story. “Just… Just need to pee real quick…”

Wonwoo looks hesitant, but he nods, reluctantly removing his hand from your face.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and push yourself up, determined to manage the short walk to the bathroom without assistance. But the moment you stand, a sudden jolt of pain rips through your lower abdomen. You let out a strangled gasp that makes Wonwoo instantly alert. Your knees give out before you can even call out to him.

You clutch your stomach as your body crumples to the cold tile floor.

“___!” Wonwoo is quick to drop to his knees beside you, arms wrapping around you before you hit the ground. “Babydoll, hey, what’s the matter?”

“It hurts,” you wheezed, eyes squeezed shut as another wave of pain twists through you. “Nonu, it… My stomach hurts.”

He feels his heart shatter at the sight of you writhing in pain, his arms tightening around your waist as he gently tries to ease you onto his lap. “Fuck, okay. I’m calling the nurse–”

“No, don’t go,” your breath was shallow, hand clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly. “Stay. Please.”

“Shit, shit… I’m here, babydoll. I’m not leaving.” Wonwoo’s voice is firm but trembling, his free hand fumbling for the call above him. He presses it repeatedly, urgency written all over his face. “Nurses! Doctors! We need help in here!”

He cradles you closer, rocking you slightly as if trying to soothe you through the pain. “You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs over and over, lips brushing against your forehead. “I’ve got you, babydoll.”

Moments later, the door bursts open and nurses rush in. Wonwoo doesn’t let you go, not until they gently urge him aside to check your vitals and prepare to move you. Even then, his hand never leaves yours.

And when they wheel you away for tests, his gaze follows you – haunted and fierce – already blaming himself for letting you get off the bed in the first place.

“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Jeon… It seems you had a miscarriage.”

The words hung in the air. The silence that followed felt suffocating, like a weight pressing down on your chest. Wonwoo’s and your mother wrapped their arms around you in an instant, offering you comfort; but everything felt so… distant. Their voices were muffled and the doctor’s face was blurred as the word ‘miscarriage’ echoed in your mind.

Your hands instinctively moved to your stomach, as though you were trying to hold onto something that was no longer within reach.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s tense body stood behind you as if he were a statue that’s freshly carved from stone. His emotions were frozen in place and his silence was louder than anything else in the room.

Suddenly, the pieces began to fit in place.

Why his mother kept nagging him to return home instead of doing overtime in the office.

Why his father kept urging him to look into a bigger home.

Why his mother and mother-in-law kept visiting you while he was away.

Hell, that even explained why Jihoon was more tame.

You were pregnant.

Pregnant with his child.

Your mom and Wonwoo’s mother tried to comfort you with soft reassurances murmured in your ear, but they couldn’t pierce through the thick glass that’s been erected around you. Your mom’s hand stroked your hair, a gesture that was meant to soothe you. But it only reminded you of the ache, of a loss so sudden that it felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away.

Wonwoo’s shaky voice brought you back to reality, “How… How could this have happened? W-When– How long has she been pregnant? She wasn’t displaying any symptoms or even showing!”

The doctor shifts, looking at the clipboard in his hand. “Mrs Jeon was around… seven weeks into the pregnancy. It’s not uncommon for the symptoms to be minimal, especially in the early stages. We suspect that what Mrs Jeon had experienced was a cryptic pregnancy, where the pregnancy goes undetected or unnoticed.”

You feel the Alpha shift his gaze from the doctor to you. “Seven weeks…” His voice was laced with confusion and guilt as he tries to recount every moment he’s spent with you, searching for signs he might have overlooked. He runs a hand down his face, resting it over his mouth as he mutters, “Fuck… No wonder your scent was sweeter…”

“As for what could’ve caused her miscarriage… We can only assume that it was due to the recent… uneventful incident that the Missus has experienced. The emotional, mental and physical distress coupled with the absence of an Alpha must’ve increased her stress levels to a point where it significantly affected her well-being.”

The doctor lowers his head in condolences and exits the room. Both yours and Wonwoo’s parents left soon after, deciding to give you both some privacy.

“Nonu…” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your broken voice seemed to crack something within him and his rigid frame finally moved. Wonwoo sinks down to his knees in front of you, his hands hesitantly reaching for yours. He held them gently, and despite his warm touch, you could feel the tremble in them.

“Babydoll…” You finally forced yourself to look at him, and the sight added another weight to your already heavy heart. His jaw was clenched as his lips were parted slightly, his lips trembling slightly while his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He’s quick to cup your face when you sniffle out his name again, wiping away the tears that began to spill from your eyes.

“No, no, no…” he murmurs, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry, babydoll… This isn’t your fault, yeah?”

His tender words only made the tears fall harder. The pain in your chest was unbearable, and the sound of his voice made it harder for you to hold yourself together. You shook your head, “N-No… Nonu, it was my fault. I-I should’ve been more alert or at least aware as to why I was –”

“Hey, hey…” He interrupts gently, “Don’t do this, babydoll, please. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You didn’t know, and even if you did, this is something out of your control.”

His thumb continues to stroke your cheeks, wiping away the endless tears that streamed down. “B-But… I-I should’ve.. hic… told you that I wasn’t feeling… hic… like myself.. M-Maybe i-if you’d known, you could’ve –”

Wonwoo presses a gentle kiss to your lips, leaning his forehead against yours once he pulls away. “Babydoll, please, don’t blame yourself… I… I should’ve been a better husband… I shouldn’t have just left you all alone again after your heat. I shouldn’t have kept my distance from you thinking it’d be a good decision… I should’ve been paying more attention to you, been home with you..”

His confession made your heart ache further. You reached up, your hands trembling as they covered his. “No, Nonu… Please, don’t say that… You've been the perfect husband and –”

“Babydoll, I wasn’t there to realise something was up. Our parents knew it before we did and –”

“We could… We could try again, right..?” Your voice was shaky, filled with uncertainty and carried a weight as though speaking it out loud could shatter what little hope you were clinging to. Wonwoo’s breath hitches, his eyes carrying the same raw, aching vulnerability you felt.

“Oh, babydoll…” he whispers, his lips trembling as he pecks your lips, “Of course we can. We can try as many times as we want, but that’s for when you’re ready – when we’re ready. Right now… Let’s… I… Let me make sure you’re okay.”

You nodded, hands moving from covering his to clutch the fabric of his shirt; as if holding onto him would stop the pieces of your heart from falling apart any further. “We’ll try again,” you echoed, voice trembling but filled with a quiet determination. “When we’re ready.”

Wonwoo hums, tilting his head to the side so he could capture your lips in a tender kiss. His lips moved against yours gently. It was soft, unhurried, and full of unspoken promises. When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours once again, and his hands move to cradle your face, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks.

Snow muffled the world outside the cabin, layering the landscape in a blanket of silence and softness. The fire crackled lowly, casting shadows on the wooden walls and painting flickers of gold across the thick blanket tangled around your legs.

It’s only been days since you left the hospital, body still aching quietly – your ribs would hurt just a little when you breathed in too deeply, you could even feel the stiffness in your limbs when you moved too fast. But here, tucked away in the mountains with no one but Wonwoo, the pressure to be okay all the time faded just like the hush of falling snow.

Wonwoo sits beside you on the edge of the bed, his presence warm and steady. He’d just come back from gathering more firewood, snow melting in his hair and a few flakes clinging stubbornly to his coat. You watched him shrug it off, mouth watering at the way his muscles ripple under the thick sweater as he crossed the room to tend to the fire.

God, he looks so good you just wanna pounce on him.

He returns to the bed, slipping under the covers with you like he belongs there – like he’d always been there. One of his arms snakes around your waist, drawing you against his side with practiced ease, careful to not press too hard against you.

He smells like warm cedar, a touch of pine, and that deep, grounding Alpha musk that seeps into your senses like a balm. He exhaled softly, rubbing slow circles into your hip with his thumb.

“Is it too cold?”

You shake your head, almost purring into him. “Not with you here.”

Wonwoo’s expression softens, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. I was worried it’d be… well, something you wouldn’t like. The snow, the isolation…”

“You picked it for a reason,” you whispered back, nuzzling into his chest. “It’s quiet up here. I like that.”

He held you closer, his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek. “I needed us somewhere no one could reach. Just for a little while.”

“Because I’m still healing?” Your voice was smaller than you meant for it to be.

“No.” His answer was immediate. “Because I need time with you. Alone. Not shared. Not interrupted. Just… us.”

You hum, closing your eyes and letting yourself be embraced by the most fearsome man of the city. In this moment, where the world was blanketed in snow, where nothing existed but the steady beat of Wonwoo’s heart and the feel of his body against yours, you were safe.

“Nonu?” 

Wonwoo looks down, still curling against his side beneath the blanket, hand pausing on your waist. “Yeah, babydoll?”

You hesitated, feeling your pulse thudding against your ribs. You feel the warmth of his body pressed against yours and the subtle way his scent thickened the longer you laid together in the quiet cabin. Maybe it was the isolation, or the cold outside – or maybe it’s just him.

The sense of safety he gives.

You swallowed, “What… What do you think about knotting me?”

Wonwoo stills, his hand splaying wider on your waist as a means to ground you in place, as though you’d float off if he didn’t. He leans down slowly, brushing his nose against your cheek. “Are you asking me if I thought about it?” his voice is now laced with some darker, thicker. “Or if I want to?”

Your face burned, and you tried to look away, but his hand caught your chin, gently coaxing you to meet his eyes. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then lower, and back. “You know I’ve thought about it, babydoll. Especially that time during your heat, but I had to stop because we were still getting used to each other.”

“What about now?”

His voice drops, “You’re still healing. Not now, okay?”

You let out a shaky breath, “I feel okay, Nonu. Better. And… I want it. I want you”

His hand tightened slightly at your hip, not enough to hurt, but just enough to let you feel the echo of what he was holding back.

“You sure, babydoll?” he asks quietly, “Because once I do that, there’s no going back to pretending I don’t need you. I’m going to be all over you, y’know?”

You reach for your Alpha, fingers curling into his sweater, voice barely steady. “Then let it.”

For a moment, Wonwoo just stares at you. And then the alpha in him stirred – quiet and hungry – as he shifts to hover above you, mouth grazing yours. “My feisty Omega can’t help but to be all soft for me now, hmm?” his voice was rough with barely checked restraint and it was enough to have you dripping. His breath ghosts over your lips, his nose brushing yours as his eyes darken. “Always biting back, but the second I touch you like this…”

His hand slides down your thigh, his touch possessive and curls it under your knee, spreading you open just a little more before pulling down the pyjama pants you were wearing.

“...you melt.”

Your breath catches, fingers curling into his sweater as heat coils low in your belly. Wonwoo wasn’t just teasing, he was marveling.

“Oh, babydoll,” he continues, enjoying the way your thighs tremble when his cold fingers trail up the skin of your bare thighs. “I’m going to bury myself in you and let my knot swell so deep that you’ll forget where I end and where you begin.”

“You’ll take good care of me, right, Alpha?”

Wonwoo groans softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll take good care of you, my sweet Omega.”

He kisses you slowly, soft at first – the deeper, hungrier, like the dam had cracked and he could finally taste what he’d been starving for. His palms slid down your sides, memorising every curve, every shiver. He doesn't rush, deciding to not strip you out of the sweater you were wearing to keep you warm.

Pulling away just enough, Wonwoo slides off his glasses and settles them aside on the nightstand. His eyes, dark and intense, were focused entirely on you. The familiar weight of his gaze sent a shiver up your spine. It was as though without the barrier of his glasses, he could see straight through you.

“You’re so beautiful, babydoll,” he murmured, breath brushing against your lips before he kissed you again, deeper, like he couldn’t stop himself. He groaned against your mouth, the soft drag of his lips against yours. His fingers traced the line of your jaw., down your neck and over the curves of your body, like he was committing the shape of your body to memory.

You let out a shaky whimper, hands trembling as you reached for him, tugging him closer. His entire being invades your senses, filling the space between your bodies as his kiss grew more intense, more desperate. You can’t help but respond to his hunger with your own, pulling him closer against your body.

You barely registered the way Wonwoo moved, only the warmth of his body that left yours for a moment. You hear the quiet click of the drawer opening beside the bed. Your voice wavered between surprise and something breathless, eyes widening just a little as your Alpha pulls out a slee black toy from it. It gleamed in the firelight, deceptively elegant. It wasn’t flashy, obviously neither you nor Wonwoo liked flashy. It was plain black, smooth, curved, and obviously meant for one purpose.

"You brought a vibrator on our honeymoon?"

Wonwoo shrugged, “More like Jihoon and Mingyu told me to. They’re… invasive to say the least.”

“How did they even know we’d be doing this?”

Wonwoo gives you a dry, amused look, like you’d just asked why the sun rises. “They’re nosy and overconfident. Honestly, since that night of your heat and when you’d ask to sleep with me, Mingyu said he can smell some kind of budding romance.”

You stared back, “That’s… That’s not a real thing, right?”

He shrugs again, “God knows. Jihoon just enables him. I have a feeling they packed it themselves when I wasn’t looking.”

A pause.

“You don’t check your luggages?”

“They probably hid it under my clothes.”

You snort, “I’m surprised it even made pass customs.”

Wonwoo chuckles, “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’ve smuggled through airport security.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Do I even want to know?”

He tilts his head like he’s genuinely considering it. “Probably not.”

You stare at the vibrator in his hand, “So… What use is this to us and did you at least sanitise it?”

Wonwoo sits back on his heels, the firelight casting him in gold and shadow as he pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his forearms. “Of course I sanitised it, babydoll. As for what use, I’m sure you have that figured out.”

You let him part your legs slowly, his eyes instantly dropping to your wet cunt. He caresses your thighs, coaxing them wider and when his scent changed, thickening with quiet arousal, your body responded like it knew what was coming.

“I’d consider my knot to be big,” he said, voice low and even. “It’s gonna take more than just my fingers to open you up.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He eases two fingers into your cunt, tongue darting out to wet his lips when your breath gets stuck somewhere between your ribs and your throat. The drag of his knuckles felt cruel, like he wanted you to know exactly how he’d take you apart.

When he pushes in a third finger, you whimper. The stretch burns at first, before it fades into a more consuming ache. Your hips buck instinctively, his hand on your waist kept you pinned down like you were nothing more than a body to be used.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, shifting closer so his lips brushes against your jaw, “You keep clenching like that and I’m going to think you like being stretched out like this.”

His fingers curled again, and you choked on a cry.

“Atta girl,” he praised, smiling against your skin.

The air was heavy with the smell of sweat, arousal, and something more dangerous. You were trembling underneath him, not just from pleasure but from the oppressive weight of his presence, the way he looked at you like you’re something fragile yet can’t help but want to break you at the same time.

Every curl of Wonwoo’s fingers leaves you breathless, the coil in your lower belly growing tighter. “You’re dripping, babydoll,” he says flatly, drawing his hand back just enough to spread your wet folds with two of his fingers before plunging them back inside. “You’re making a mess and I barely touched you.”

With one final curl of his fingers, your back arches involuntarily as his fingertips press hard against your g-spot over and over. “C’mon, babydoll,” he murmurs, voice filled with arousal. “Cum for me.”

Your body obeys, a loud cry of his name tearing through your throat as your body seizes, pussy walls fluttering around his fingers. Your nails dig into his arm, thighs trembling around his wrist, and all you can do is ride it out as he coaxes every last tremble from your body. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, breathing hard, and sweat sticking to your skin.

Only then does he ease them out, slowly. He lifts his slick covered fingers to his lips, tongue flicking out to taste you as he keeps his eyes on your ruined expression with a dark glint.

“You taste sweeter than I thought,” he mumbles. Leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss on your lips before spreading your thighs again. “Gimme one more and I’ll knot you, yeah?”

He turns on the vibrator, the black toy humming to life. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the toy to your slick, pulsing entrance. The moment the curved tip presses inside you, your hips jerked. It zeroed in on that spongy spot deep inside you, making your vision blur and your thighs tremble.

One hand keeps your hips still while the other begins to move the toy inside you. Your breath stutters, back arching as the toy presses up and in, vibrating relentlessly against your gspot. Your legs twitch, thighs trembling as you try to squirm away from the intense pleasure, but Wonwoo won’t let you.

He keeps you in place, spread open while he grinds the toy mercilessly against your gspot, your pulsing walls clenching and unclenching around it rhythmically. Slick, wet sounds fill the room, echoing between your moans and the relentless hum of the vibrator. Your knuckles turned white as your hands clutch the sheets, the coil in your lower belly tightening up again.

“Nonu!”

“Gonna cum again?” he asks, voice low and taunting. He pushes the toy deeper and your vision goes black around the edges. A broken sob claws its way out of your throat as the pressure becomes unbearable. “C’mon, babydoll. Show me how greedy this pussy is. I want you soaked for my knot. Wanna feel you gush all over me.”

He twists the vibrator just right, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit and your body convulses around the toy. A loud cry rips from your throat, sharp and raw as your pussy squirts, hips arching off the bed – drenching his wrists, the toy and the sheets beneath you.

Wonwoo groans, eyes dark as they lock on the way your body submits to him so beautifully. “Fuck, babydoll” he breathes, tossing the wet vibrator aside. “You’re ready to take me now. Gonna stretch you around my knot just how you’re meant to.”

He doesn’t even bother to wipe his hand, sliding them under your thighs and guiding them around his waist, lowering himself over you. You can feel the heat of his cock, flushed and heavy, grinding his length against your slick folds. “Gonna knot you so good, babydoll. Fill you so full that everyone who smells you knows you’re taken.”

You lick your lips at the weight of his knot that’s already swelling at the base. You lock your legs around his waist, heels digging into the curve of his back pulling him closer.

That was all the permission he needed.

Wonwoo lines himself up, holding back a growl as the blunt head of his cock bumps against your clit. His jaw clenches, holding back a guttural growl as he pushes in, inch by inch. Your eyes flutter shut as he stretches you, your slick walls sucking him in greedily.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grits out, kissing your jaw. “So fucking wet. Pussy feels so warm that I could die happy right now.”

You whimper, back arching as he bottoms out, his knot pressing against your entrance. He rolls his hips experimentally, letting you feel every vein of his cock, the way his cock drags against your soaked, swollen walls.

His head dips to press his mouth against the curve of your jaw, your throat. “Taking me so well. Fuck, you feel so good.”

His hands tighten on your thighs, pushing them up so your knees are pressed against your chest, angling your hips just right so he can sink even deeper. His leaking cockhead bullies your sweet spot, making you cry out with each thrust.

“Feel how deep I am, babydoll?” He slides a hand between your bodies, pressing down on your lower belly. You moan at the pressure, nails scratching down his clothed back and Wonwoo starts to roughly thrust into your sloppy cunt. The drag of his cock against your walls sends aftershocks through your twitching body.

Wonwoo groans loudly, biting down on your shoulder – not hard enough to break the skin nor the sweater you wore, but enough to have your wet walls squeeze around him. “Shit, babydoll. Your pussy tightens up when I bite you. You like that, huh? Like it when I mark you up?”

You can’t answer. You’re shaking and gasping, all thoughts wiped out by the way his leaking cockhead grinds into your cervix with every thrust, body starting to bounce from the sheer force.

He presses down on your belly again, palm flat and firm. The pressure makes you clench reflexively, his eyes focus on the way your pretty cunt is stuffed snugly around his dick – entranced with the way your puffy lips coat his thick cock with your sweet cream.

“Nonu,” you whine out, feeling a jolt of electricity run up your spine when his abdomen rubs against your clit. “Please! Want your knot!”

Wonwoo growls, forcing his knot past your rim with one brutal thrust and stretching your pussy wide. You cry out in pleasure and pain, nails digging into the fabric of the sweater that he thinks you’d shred it into pieces. You feel it pop past your entrance and lock inside you, your vision going white.

He pulls out halfway only to slam back in, so addicted to how tight and wet you are around him. He loves how your gummy walls are taking his knot, how the lewd sounds of skin slapping and the wet squelching of your pussy fills the cabin. Wonwoo’s thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it hard and fast; grunting in approval when he feels your arousal drip out your stuffed cunt.

“N-Nonu, ‘M gonna cum!” you moan, head thrown back against the pillows as he fucks you harder into the mattress.

“I know, babydoll,” he murmurs, “Can feel your pussy milking my cock.”

Your walls flutter wildly against him. His knot throbs, snug and swollen inside you, ready to fill you up. “Cum for me, my Omega,” he groans into your neck, planting wet kisses as he chases his own climax. “Make a mess on my cock.”

Your orgasm slams into you, white, hot and all-consuming. Your entire body convulses underneath him, pussy creaming his dick. Wonwoo curses under his breath, hips jerking as your pulsing walls trigger his own release.

“Take it,” he pants, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he spills his cum deep inside. Ropes and ropes of hot cum flood your womb, and you mewl as your mind wanders back to the first time he filled you up.

Your Alpha stays buried inside you, knot locked tight as he releases your legs, hanging them over his forearms. One hand has a possessive grip on your hip while the other rubs your overstimulated clit in slow, teasing circles with just enough pressure to make you jolt.

He grinds his hips against you, knot fully lodged inside you. It’s said that Alphas cum more than they usually do when knotting their bonded mates, and sure enough, Wonwoo was indeed filling your pussy with load after load of his hot cum. Not that you were complaining though. You happily take every drop he gives you with a blissful smile.

The fire had burned down to glowing embers, casting the room in a dim amber. You’re still lying beneath Wonwoo, still stretched wide around his knot, both of you soaked in sweat and slick. You could still feel him twitching inside you, some of his cum slipping past the tight sleeve of your cunt around him. 

He releases his hold on your legs so he can bury his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses to the skin, teeth nipping over your scent gland. His voice was soft when he praised you, “My babydoll did such a good job at taking my knot.”

His hands slide under your sweater, caressing your body in gentle touches. You both stay like that until his knot deflates. But, your body hasn’t had enough yet. Your hips shifted without thinking, instinctive, needy.

Wonwoo chuckles when he feels it, pulling back to look at you – his eyes dilated and darker than before. “You still want another round, babydoll?”

You bit your lip, squirming just a little as your walls flutter helplessly around his girth. “Well, you’re still hard, Nonu~”

His grin is wolfish, but there’s a glint of fondness in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. He hums, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel the slow drag of his length still nestled inside you. “That’s ‘cause your greedy little pussy won’t let go of me.”

He leans down again, pressing a kiss just below your jaw, tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin. “Keep squeezing me like that and I’ll knot you again, babydoll.”

You purr, bucking your hips up to meet his.

Wonwoo hisses, shifting his weight and hooking his forearms beneath your knees. In one swift motion he folds you in half, sinking his cock deeper into your pussy. He kisses you hard, tongue sliding against yours as he pounds your soaked cunt, thick cockhead repeatedly knocking against your cervix so hard it knocks the breath right out of your lungs too. You gasp into his mouth, body starting to tremble from the stimulation.

“Fuck,” he moans, “Pussy still so fucking tight. Look so fucking hot full of my cock.”

You cry out when you feel his knot start to swell inside you again. You can only moan and cry as he keeps hammering his cock into your sensitive hole. “Bet you’d take every load I give you, huh? Stuff you so full you’ll be dripping for days.”

Your head lolls back against the pillows, lips parting in a breathless moan. You feel everything – the stretch of his knot forcing you wider, locking you in place, the way his cock drags along your swollen walls.

“Nonu–” you whimpered, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. “Full! Too full–”

“But you can’t help but to want me to fill you again,” he groans, gripping your hips with a bruising grip. He shifts the angle of his thrusts, feeling him in your guts as his thick cock pummels into you relentlessly. Wonwoo groans when he feels your pussy constrict around him again. “Ohh, fuck, babydoll. You gonna cum again? Gonna squirt all over my cock like the needy little Omega that you are?”

You can’t answer, the only sounds leaving your lips are your filthy moans. You wail every time he drives his dick in and out of you, grinding his thick knot right against that spongy spot inside you until you reach another climax.

Your whole body seizes as you cum hard, the air being punched out from your lungs. You gush around your Alpha, liquid splashing between your thighs – soaking his sweater and the sheets beneath you. Wonwoo is mesmerised by the sight of you squirting all over his cock, how your eyes screwed shut while your sweet cries filled the room.

“Fucking hell, babydoll,” he growls, throwing his head back as he feels his own climax approaching. “Squeezing my cock so fucking good.”

The milking compression of your walls around him, clenching and unclenching around his knot, like your body was begging for him to creampie you was what drove him right to the edge. With a loud roar of your name, his whole body goes tense. His fat cock twitches and throbs inside you, flooding your already wrecked cunt with spurts of his hot cum. His knot swells further, making sure to keep your soaked pussy filled to the brim.

You cry out, nails digging into his forearms as you feel droplets of his cum drip down your thighs. Wonwoo groans when he feels your walls flutter around his length, grinding his hips slowly to try and push his cum deeper.

When he releases your legs from the mating press he had you in, you let out a moan of relief. Your muscles are barely able to hold up after being held up in that position for so long. Your thighs fall limp on the bed, trembling, and slick with sweat and a mixture of your bodily fluids.

Wonwoo doesn’t move, his cock still buried inside you as he continues to release more ropes of thick cum, coating your walls. He places his palm flat against your belly again, right over the small swell of where his cum is filling you – where his knot is. Then he presses down on it.

You gasp, your entire body jerking.

Your cunt tightens reflexively, milking his cock for more of his cum, and he groans at the squeeze. You whimper, eyes glassy, and droplets of tears cling to your lashes.

Your body goes limp beneath him as Wonwoo hovers above you, back hunched as he tries to come down from the delicious high he had just experienced. He’s still sheathed inside, cock still pulsing, his cum sloshing inside your pussy that he can already feel it dripping down your thighs.

But, fuck, the way you were tightly holding onto him – his pretty Omega all wet and stretched and stuffed to the brim, it had his instincts just snarling beneath the surface.

“Shit, babydoll,” he murmurs, voice thick with pride and affection, “Knotted you twice and you’re still squeezing me like you want a third.”

You let out a shaky chuckle, looping your arms around his neck. “I might,” you whisper, giving him a dazed smile.

Wonwoo shakes his head, “You’re insatiable.”

When he leans down to pepper kisses to your throat, you whimper out his name. “Shh, I got you, babydoll. Let’s wait til my knot deflates before we do anything else.”

You hum, clinging to him as your legs weakly wrap themselves around his waist, body still trembling from pleasure and emotions.

And as the snow continues to fall outside, blanketing the surrounding world in white, you and Wonwoo stay tangled together in the heat of the cabin, arms holding each other like you’d never let each other go.

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[nighthuntingclato]

For Clato! 1. 10. 16. 19. 27. 28

1 answered here

10. What is an incredibly heartwarming moment between the two? LOL other than the canon fact that my man was on his knees begging her not to die and leave him alone? and of course all of the other heartwarming clato details from the feast scene that I analyzed in excessive and obsessive detail. as for moments that i've written between them, I really enjoy the concept of Cato and clove realizing that being district partners and getting to work as a team to survive while slowly becoming an important part of each other's lives in ways that are deeper than that was a positive little twist of fate. i'm a romantic and I love soulmates lol, especially in the context of forced proximity for survival. it's about the "i'm stuck with you" to "I would have chosen you anyways" pipeline. and I believe that they would have had a moment where they voiced this belief out loud, in a rare moment of vulnerability.

16. If they are separated and see something that reminds them of their partner, what would it be and why? Well if we want to go the angsty route, Cato must have reclaimed that bag once he took down Thresh and been stuck with a set of armor in exactly Clove's body size that was at that point basically useless because she'd never get to wear it. SO yeah, a very painful reminder of her and how he couldn't save her. On a happier note, in basically any of my AUs, modern or canonverse, Cato sees Clove as the human equivalent of a black cat and whenever he sees a tiny, stray black kitten - especially if it's hissing at someone or using its claws - it makes him smile and think of his girl. Of course, the obvious answer would be knives too, and swords in Clove's case if she were to see something that reminded her of him.

19. Do they have a place or object that is specifically theirs? Where/What is it and why? They are THE gym workout couple, both in canonverse and a modern AU. In canonverse, they'd find a zone of safety and comfort in the Training Center because they like to be physically active, and as Victors they'd enjoy using it together. They also definitely create that type of space in their own Victor Village home- which is Cato's except Clove spends so much time there instead of her own house that they basically live together. Furnishing it with equipment they both like is important to them, like setting up a target practice station for Clove and a station for swords/spears for Cato, as well as punching bags for them to share/take turns at because they both would love boxing. Their workout room is a cozy safe space for them and a haven of a safety bubble where they can feel free to be themselves.

27. What made you start shipping them? So on my first read of the book in middle school, they escaped my notice and I sort of just thought they were scary (but sympathetic) homicidal teenagers. However, it was Isabelle Fuhrman's stellar performance of Clove that I'd seen from Youtube clips that truly captured my attention and made me adore her and the Careers in general, especially because once there was an actual person to put to the name they seemed like real people (and the victims they were). I think I just looked up Cato x Clove on Youtube to see if there was going to be any content on them and was surprised to find out that the idea of them together had also crossed other people's minds. Then I found out that The Scene (Cato kneels etc etc) was never in the movie which made me sad especially because Clove's death was horrific, even more so with Isabelle only being 15 and making Clove even younger. I was also really compelled by the idea of them sharing a special bond and being partners/a battle couple, working together and developing intense feelings, playing into a lot of tropes that I look for in fictional couples (when I was 10 and a big Disney Channel girlie, my ship was Harry and Uma from Descendants 2 because I always love a good villainxvillain love story.) So I became a Clato Girlie at that point, briefly stopped once I got to high school, went insane over them again once the TBOSAS movie came out, and the rest is history.

28. How do they divide up chores? Who does what? They are used to very heavily scheduled routines from their time as Trainees, so they set up a similarly detailed and organized schedule for chores. Clove prints out a little chart and everything. My friend Jordan @atefingersdagger states that Cato is the cook of the two, and Clove just likes to watch him and toss whatever knife he needs. Cato does most of the grunt work of taking care of the black kitten they adopt because he dotes on it while she wrinkles her nose and calls it a "creature" (also I know nothing about pet ownership but cats seem comparatively low maintenance which is why clato are the perfect cat owners.) Cleaning their workout room (the blood spots - don't worry, it's only for Hot Reasons that they're drawing each other's blood) is also a chore that requires their time so they like to do little physical competitions where whoever loses has to clean the workout room. Pushup contests with her on his back, sparring with the swords until 3 strikes to the other opponent, etc etc.

[imthefemalemonster]

⸻The Viper and the Sage

Lucemond - Aemond Targaryen x Lucerys Velaryon (FPS!AU, Mature)

CHAPTER I. Sword and Shield

⸻ Summary: It’s during one of his worst FPS matches, harassed by toxic and sexist players, that Luke meets his newly found mentor, Aemond, when the man comes to his defense.

Tags: Modern Setting, FPS/Video game AU, Aged Up Characters, Fluff & Angst, SEXISM/SEXIST INSULTS, Read NOTES, Mention of other characters

⸻ Read on Ao3

Notes: Modern Lucemond FPS/Video game!AU - Inspired by this post.

There WILL be smut later! In chapter 3, 4 and 5 if I live long enough to write them.

TW : Sexism and Sexist insults - Please be careful, it’ll only occur in this chapter but I wanted to warn since it can be triggering (taken from my own experiences - be bad at video games, but don’t be a dick kids)

Game I used for reference is Valorant, even if I don’t use the name. (Sage = Lucerys, Viper = Aemond)

Tumblr for requests/ideas: @imthefemalemonster

Hope you enjoy it. ♡

⸻ Words: 3477

You can skip this part if you don't care about vocabulary or don't need it.

A bit of FPS/Video game related vocabulary for people not familiar with it:

Basic rules: 2 teams of 5 players who plays “agents” (characters with different types of spells and ways to be played), one team attacks (have to put a “spike” on a point, a kind of bomb), the other defend (defuse the spike and/or kill all opponents), there’s 2 or 3 points (A/B/C) depending on the map. They exchange positions after some rounds. First to a certain number of round wins. Mostly gunfights with various types of weapons (sometimes “cut” = knives. Very rare)

Agent : Characters you play in the game that all have special abilities

Point A/B/C: Area on the map you attack or defend

Duelist / Controller / Sentinel: Types of characters (specialized in duel, control of the map or protection/healing)

Ranked (or competitive) / Normal / Custom games: Ranked are competitive matches where winning or losing influence points you’ll gain at the end of the game to “climb the ladder” (reaching higher ranks) / Normal are the same without the competitive aspect, same rules apply between Ranked and Normal / Custom are between certain players, to play between them or train with rules they can decide of.

Training ground: Place to train your aim in a special map in the game

Voice chat: In game voice chat to talk to your mates

Carrying: Same as “carrying on your back”, being so good you win the game alone despite what your mates are doing

Attack/Defense round: Teams are split in two, one attacks, one defends, round are ended once a whole team is dead or the bomb exploded or was defused.

Smurf: A side (or sometimes main) account where you play against players under your usual rank, smurf can also be used as a compliment for good players “he is smurfing” “you smurfed” when they did very well in the game.

K/D/A: Kill (number of kills you made), death (number of times you died) and assists (assistance on a kill, participating to a kill but without being the one who killed), often accessible during the game in the scoreboard

OP or operator: Sniper type weapon

MVP: Title given to the best player of the game at the end of it

Patch: An update adding new content into the game

___

The day had been long, mostly boring. Waking up, going to college, hearing Jace rumble about incomprehensible things that annoyed him in his lessons. Going to class, some interesting, some not really, some extremely tiring. Lucerys was but impatient to go home. It was the week-end, he hadn’t much work to do, thankfully he had worked this week to avoid being too overwhelmed by homeworks. Headphones on his ears, bus crowded, lost in his own thoughts thinking about what he would do once home. His mother and stepfather probably wouldn’t be home yet, maybe Rhaena and Baela would. All day he and his friends had talked about the game they were playing. A new patch had come out, and a new agent with it. They were all super excited to test it. Entering the silent house, Luke thought that he should probably play a little bit, some warm-up games before their usual nightly ranked session.

He closed his door in haste, throwing his bag on his bed, sitting on his chair. His computer was asleep, having the bad habit of never turning it down. He checked his friend's chat, ready to invite his friends for some games.

Just got home… let’s play tomorrow, I think I’m too tired tonight.

ur weak

Stfuuu

my parents want us to go out BRO. i’ll see you tomorrow too. plz no spoilers about the agent man i want to test it first. don’t tell me it’s shit i won’t believe you

??? tf you are saying

LMFAO. it’s always either shit or cracked up man

ikr

Luke pulled a face, annoyed. Guess he had to play alone for now. Resigned he opened the game. Nobody he knew was online, it was still only very early in the evening, most people hadn’t come out of work or school yet. He sat properly, one hand on the keyboard, the other on the mouse, he was ready. He clicked “PLAY” and chose “COMPETITIVE”, he pressed “START”.

The queue wasn’t long, only a few seconds and he was in the game. He had to choose his agent first, he didn’t hesitate, he went for his favorite girl. It was a type of support, she could heal, protect, revive her allies, and also slow or block enemies. She wasn’t simple to play but he loved her very much and wanted to train her more, he always loved being the protector, the support for his team. Maybe his aim wasn’t very good, but he could control the map very well to help out his allies.

The game started rather slowly, it was quite messy. His allies, and himself, were running in random directions, sometimes picking up an enemy, mostly by chance, sometimes being destroyed by someone behind them. The voice chat was active, he could hear two very loud boys with him and a third, deep voice that only spoke one or two words from time to time. Luke clearly wasn’t having his best game, he struggled to shoot, or even to find good opportunities to help his mates. It was starting to stress him out a lot, he hated to suck but couldn’t help it, pressure only made it worse, and the toxic boys were not helping.

“Jesus fucking christ! What the fuck is she doing?!”

Lucerys knew it was about him. He truly hoped it wasn’t but it was for sure, he just died to a random bullet because he didn’t take cover fast enough, confused about what he had to do.

“You’re fucking lost?! You’re trolling right?”, yelled one of the boys, in a very low quality microphone.

“S-sorry”, mumbled Luke, he probably should have said nothing. He often did because he was just too shy to talk.

“Ah fuck I knew it fucking egirl.”, shouted another voice, a bit deeper, but still sounding very young, “Of course a fucking girl ruining our fucking game!”

Luke frowned his eyebrow. A girl?! He was confused.

“I’m not a girl bro what the fuck.”

“The kitchen is too fucking busy bitch?”, yelled the first boy, laughing.

“You sound like one”, continued the older boy, “Fucking high pitched voice go suck some dicks you’ll be better at it than at aiming.”

They both wheezed loudly, still throwing a torrent of sexist insults toward Luke who was way too anxious and panicked to defend himself.

“F-fucking weirdos. Failed my position, it…”, Luke hesitated, “It was my bad I’m fucking sorry. Don’t need to be cunts about it.”

“F-f-ff”, repeated one of the boys, “Mouth so full she can’t talk!”

Luke’s fingers were so tense, clenched on his mouse that it hurted.

“Fuck off! Stupid ass sexists.”. Lucerys wanted to be way meaner but he couldn’t find the words, the strength.

“Cry me a river fucking dumb bitch go play animal crossing.”

“Aha you’re a fucking sexist bro”, yelled the younger boy, “She gonna cry on twitter about it soo-”

“Fuck off I said! Fucking focus on the game you’re ruining it more than m-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

It was deep but perfectly audible. Each word decomposed, their very sound piercing through Luke's frail body like a thousand knives.

“I’ve been carrying your stupid asses for rounds now.”, the guttural voice continued, “You’re fucking useless. Absolutely unable to keep a fucking point or understand the basis of the game, so instead of crying in the voc use your energy for something useful like aiming correctly.”

Lucerys was done for. After this game he would probably close the game, uninstall it, jump under his sheets and cry to sleep for being the worst ever video game player. The silence that followed was long as the next round hadn’t started yet. Hands shaking, Luke moved to take position, hoping nobody would notice him anymore, that the game would end soon and he would never play it again.

“Lmfao you’re right man, fucking cry baby girl”, one of the boy laughed, “Try playing from the kitchen maybe it’ll work better.”

Fists clenched on his keyboard and mouse, Lucerys was about to mute the voice chat, even if it meant losing precious information and maybe losing the game too, he had heard enough. Baela had often told him about toxic guys and how it felt to be a girl playing video games, Luke wondered how strong she was to take that everytime. Maybe she wasn’t, it probably made her as angry and saddened, even scared as he was now. He wanted to seek her confort now, Rhaena and her knew better than everyone how to handle that.

“I’m talking to you dipshit.”

There was another silence. Luke heard one of the boys mumble, visibly confused.

“Me?”, asked the boy with the higher-pitched voice.

“Yeah you.”, husked the voice, “You talk a lot for a fucking useless player.”

The two boys bursted out laughing,

“Holy shit bro! Did I insult your girlfriend?”

“This your girl? That’s why you're so mad? It’s ok bro she probably ugly as fuck.”

The round started before anyone could add anything, voice chat going back to inaudible noises, messy information and laughs. Luke followed the agent with the deep voice, sticking close to him. They successfully took control of the point and won the round, the two other boys dead from going too deep into the map, caught by the enemies.

“Makes sense now”, teased the older boy, “Wants the girl number.”, a wheeze was heard in a low quality mic, probably from the second toxic boy.

“I don’t know him”, continued the man, “I don’t fucking care. But you are being fucking annoying. I can't focus. Your information are messy at best, false at worst.”

Luke didn't know where to stand. Glad someone took his defense, but he also felt the voice could turn against him at any moment if he made these big positioning mistakes again. He decided to stick with him still, it worked for a few rounds, it should work again, the man didn’t seem to care or protest.

“Lmfaoo I would love not to hear some dick sucking in vocal bro”, rasped the younger voice, “I’m trying to fOcUS.”, the boys started laughing again.

“Ignore them, follow me.”

The two boys repeated the man’s words, adding obscene noises of mouths mimicking a blowjob, and very cringy moans. Luke didn’t hesitate and did as he was told. There were only two rounds left if they won both of them. Luke saw it like deliverance, focusing the best he could so this awful game could end. He couldn’t wait to drop out of it and report the two boys, even if nothing happened to them like it often did, at least it would relieve him to do so.

The two last rounds went surprisingly well, mostly thanks to the agent with the deep voice. He was clearly way too good for this match, Luke thought it was probably a smurf, he was thankful to get carried by one. Most of the time, smurfs were guys previously banned that reassured everyone they would carry but ended up never doing so, instead they would just be toxic in vocal and insult the entire team for being “useless”. Lucerys smiled, happy that he won the game despite the terrible treatment he received.

“Good job guys”, said the fifth voice, silent until now.

“You too, good job man. Good job support.”, the voice whispered, always both calm and cold. Luke smiled at the compliment.

The two other toxic boys had already disconnected, their ego probably hurt from being carried so hard by a guy who humiliated them both in voice chat and in the game, showing that he was definitely better than them. Obviously the man won the match MVP, even getting congratulated, and a bit insulted, ‘fucking smurf carrying’, by the enemy team. Luke checked his score, in the end he didn’t do so bad. He wasn’t very good at making decisions but excellent at following them.

“T-thanks”, mumbled Luke, unsure if the man was still here to hear him.

“No problem.”

Lucerys heart jumped a little bit. How hard he wished he had that voice, skill, and confidence. He sounded a little bit… threatening too. Which only made it better. Luke wished he didn’t sound so childish, he could easily stand up for himself, but his skills were still lacking to shut some mouths up. Staring at his screen, Luke felt weirdly relaxed, but it was mixed with sadness as he would probably never play with that man again. He also doubted anyone would defend him like that ever again. Most of the time, it was girls who stood up for each other, even for others. Lucerys admired them, despite everything they had to endure everyday, he had but only lived a percent of what they live daily. Fingers tingling on his mouse, Luke was staring at the man’s name on his screen… Should I? It was bold of him to ask his mate as a friend. The man would probably not accept, he probably already forgot who he was, and there was no point for him, a way better player, to rank with Luke.

Lucerys sighed, ready to close his game, he wanted to step out of his room and seek for Baela and Rhaena, they were probably playing too but he absolutely had to tell them what happened. It would help him relax a bit, Rhaena would be reassuring when Baela would ask for the boy’s names and probably use her FBI-like skills to track them down and make sure their voices could never ever see a mic again. Luke smiled at the idea.

[You received a friend request.]

The boy jumped on his chair. Taken aback by the sudden noise. Eyes staring at the screen, they widened when he saw the friend request and by whom it was sent.

“Shit!”, he yelled, grabbing his mouse the best he could, hand moist with stress.

Lucerys blinked, once, twice, three times, he stopped counting at ten times probably. It couldn’t be! It couldn’t be … him. Lucerys shook his head, closed his eyes, opened them one last time, before reaching for the notification, and finally accepting it, after what felt like hours. The name appeared on his friend list next to his friends and family members. He fixed it like it wasn’t real. Luke was so confused. Confusion soon replaced with absolute anxiety when his chat turned purple, the color of a private message.

Hey

Luke wanted to take the message out of the screen, hold onto the words, grab each letter, imprint them on his skin. What’s wrong with me… He loved the attention, but most importantly, he craved to know why the man would give him any of it at first.

Sorry for what happened. Hope you are ok.

He smiled, heart warming up at the kind attention. The sentence felt weird, both cold and kind, like the man was in voice chat. A sudden thought sent shivers down Luke’s spine. What if he really thinks I’m a girl? The boy’s face twisted, he hoped it was not some creepy behavior, as it sadly often was. He typed shakily.

thanks i’m good. first time this happens it’s

He sent it and paused.

feels weird. i’m not who they think i was it didn’t impact me

There was a long pause, he didn’t know if his words made any sense.

You clearly sounded like it did.

Luke frowned his eyebrow, split between confusion and disappointment.

i’m not a girl. but they were annoying

You don’t need to be one to be annoyed.

Luke shook his head. I’m so stupid!

yeah sorry that’s not what i meant. hope these sexist fucks get banned tho

I hope too.

thanks for the game btw, i clearly sucked

It’s fine. It’s my smurf account. It was quite an unfair game for them.

yeah i figured that out pretty quick lol. you were way too good for this match. thanks again

No problem, you did good.

Lucerys smiled widely, kicking his feet. Something inside him felt weird, he could not quite put his finger on it. There was nothing strange about meeting people, maybe making a new friend. He had plenty of them on social media. Maybe it was the man's true intentions, still vague to Luke, that confused him.

***

‘Good’ maybe wasn’t the best word. Aemond didn’t want to type again to correct himself. Well you did… your best, he thought. The boy looked absolutely lost on the map, his aim wasn’t too bad, he used his spells with care and was very good at following orders, particularly his. Most of the time he was rather silent in game, especially on his smurf, he would share basic information. He rarely stood up for others, because most of the time it was a bunch of kids indistinctly yelling at one another, sometimes in languages he had never heard. He mostly played with his brother and sister, communicating only to them. He was more than well aware of some toxic behavior because Helaena would suffer from it even when he was here. When Aegon was too busy insulting back and mocking their toxic mates, Aemond would be calmer, but only deadlier in his words. He knew his voice and tone impressed more than one, he would love to use it against badly educated boys or men that crossed the line, their ego too big for their own good. Nothing annoyed him more than to have his ears polluted by these whines and screams, especially if it was to insult people he loved and cared about. Too many immature crybabies roamed free in this game, so between two bullets, it was good to relieve himself with some good old threats. He was excellent anyway, they rarely could criticize the way he played.

So when he heard these boys, which probably were not even adults considering how their voice sounded, mocking their poor support who was clearly trying his best, he intervened. It simply reminded him all the time his own sister suffered from childish men who couldn’t bear the idea that yes, girls did indeed play video games, and that no, they are not always the one who suck in your games or ruin your matches. From the first time he heard the support, he wondered too, not wanting to misgender or assume anything, he rapidly got the confirmation he seeked for when the boy yelled that he was in fact, not a girl. Not that he considered himself a hero, he truly did not care, but he was raised good, and taught that this is not the kind of thing he should let happen without saying anything. So he was quick to react, unsurprised at the boys’ reactions. They mostly always react like this, sometimes they just shut up, most of the time their ego is too big and it slips out of their nasty mouth accompanied by the dumbest words a human could hear. But in the end, Aemond would always win, especially on his smurf account, he was better, he was carrying, and his voice reached far deeper into these stupid boys hearts, like perfect little knives cutting them open.

‘This your girl?’, the words had confused and disturbed Aemond more than they should have. He was used to be insulted back, called all sort of homophobic or bigoted things, even by enemies when he was destroying them. It did little to no damage to him. He was confident in his skills, he was untouchable. But something changed, shattered almost when he heard the pain in the boy’s voice. The immediate assumption that he was protecting his… girlfriend? Aemond wasn’t particularly fond of romantic relationships, and not really of girls either, or boys, he didn’t much think about it actually. Not that he never had interest in other people, sometimes he had, but it was superficial, he would brush it off. But he was always closer to boys, romantically. He didn’t have many friends apart from his siblings and mentor Cole, who got them into gaming and taught him a lot about this game. He couldn’t quite understand, or comprehend, what attracted him in the boy. Despite the pain, he sounded cute at the end, scared or impressed by him, Aemond couldn’t say. He wanted to see if he could get more of it.

Online later?

Confidence ran through him like bullets into his enemies. He waited a few seconds before getting a quick response.

yeah, why?

Don’t want to sound weird, but we could play again some time. We’re missing a player with my group. If you don’t mind joining us.

Aemond cracked his fingers, the response took seconds to arrive but it felt like hours. Had he been too straightforward? He wasn’t even sure if he wasn’t talking to a 14 years old boy, he might sound very creepy. He estimated that the boy was around 18 or 20 but he wasn’t sure.

woah

Pause.

if they are all like you… yeah i prob will be a burden man. idk

Aemond started typing again, unsure how he could convince the boy with the cute voice to play with him again.

It’s fine, we can do some custom or normal games, I could teach you some things. If you don’t mind.

that’s very cool man. sure it doesn’t bother you? i clearly was better at following you like a pup than playing the actual fucking game

Aemond smirked, at least the boy was conscious of it. He liked the mention of “pup”, that's really how he pictured the boy.

It’s all fine, if you intend on climbing the ladder, better learn some few useful tricks and tips.

He paused, hesitating. It was better if he knew.

Btw, we are in our twenties, forties for our oldest one but don’t worry, you can bully the grandpa. If that’s ok for you, don’t want to sound creepy.

There was yet another pause that almost sent Aemond into a coma, not realizing how tense he was, waiting for the boy to answer like a man in a desert seeking any drops of water he could find.

uh, i’m a fucking baby. i just turned 18 so i hope taht’s fine man

He smiled, once again he was right.

If it is for you then we are good.

nice, well see you tonight ig

See you tonight mate.

Aemond spent a few minutes staring at the game. Torn between a weird feeling of accomplishment, of pride, and confusion, head dizzy. He shook his head, he liked to be organized, precise, concise, in charge. So he decided to review the boy’s game, he opened a document and started to write down everything he saw, everything wrong and good, and what he could teach him, in a very private lesson, a smirk on his prying lips.

[yostresswritinggirl]

But what if Dottore killed Niwa’s lover before murdering him? And the lie he tells Scara is that the heart belonged to reader and Niwa cut it out?

That confrontation scene where Niwa says he’s not as cautious as Nagamasa and literally turns his back as if Dottore wasn’t gonna take that chance to stab him. Man spouting out classic shounen lines before dying, too. Truly main character energy. They had to kill him or else he’d be too powerful.

Reader has to die eventually. Just how is the question. Been watching the quest over and over while reading the notes. Suffering for the greater good.

Niwa and reader would rather have a simple wedding. They don’t strike me as bougie as Scara and puppet reader. No worries. Modern au will fix the angst. Just stapling more to kintsugi’s ending. I am a sucker for childhood lovers. There’s just so much history.

Oh, Niwa forging kitchen knives is so disgustingly domestic. Take him away. The romance has infected him. Wait, did Niwa give him the Talk? Niwa wasn’t gonna assume functionality of said parts but it doesn’t hurt to make sure his new son has some knowledge.

Torn between Kazuha or Scara getting the swords. Might go with the Inazuman eternity thing. Scara and puppet reader = Eternal Dream. Niwa and reader = Eternal Lovers.

Just Niwa thoughts.

Bloom anon

Yoooo, hey, hey *places hands on your shoulders* Fuck you /lh omayghad how fucking dare you but also that's the most appropriate scenario yet, just ties in more to the monster Dottore's envy for scarameow but omayghad, fuckin Dottore omayghaaad

If Niwa survived, he would have found a way to prevent the Vision Hunt Decree somehow sksksks oh my heart still hurts from the first one, godspeed Bloom but also you're a menace

I can't believe you just called them boujie wahahhaha but yes, just off the coast of Tatarasuna, a seaside wedding is what I envision it- I'm not gonna think about the Talk, you are not infecting me too

I'm torn too wait hm actually - wait hhhhh I'm so torn, I'm thinking what if the other half is with reader and the other half was with Kazuha, so that we can imagine Scara giving it to them to protect themselves when they joined the Fatui. And it would instead be heartwarming instead when he sees them still using the sword post-interlude

I wanna go back to the modern au now please huhu

[saphira-approves]

It’s 12am and I’m really out here discovering this fandom for the first time in my 22 years of life and nigh decade of being an avid reader of Eragon I had a dragon name and a sword name made up when I was 15. She was gold and yellow with orange undertones and I forget her name but the sword was a hand and a half yellow narrow bladed sword named K’Vekva (lighting in the AL). Please please share your thoughts and knowledge with me.

<3<3<3 Welcome!!! I’m glad you’ve found our little corner of the internet, we do have a lot of fun here.

If you haven’t found them already, some other blogs around here that do IC stuff are @i-wanna-be-eragons-gf, @someeragonmemes, @modern-inheritance, @ladyofancienttales, and @alagaesia-enthusiast!

For fics, @modern-inheritance has a modern AU going, I have a profile on AO3 where I put my IC stuff, and @ao3feed-inheritancecycle posts links to new IC fics!

Your dragons sounds utterly gorgeous; if you find or remember her name, or choose a new one, let me know! I absolutely adore peoples’ dragon OCs. I also love the name Lightning for a sword, it brings to mind a very fierce, speed-based fighting style!

As a 12yo I couldn’t choose a favorite color, and I had also read Tui T. Sutherland’s Wings of Fire series, so my dragon Ophelia changes color lmao. Originally I had an idea for a golden sabre named Solus (idr if it’s AL, it honestly sounds more like Latin), but then I was like “nah, I want TWO MAGIC KNIVES” so I came up with two knives whose names meant Truth and Honesty… but also IRL i recently got a longsword and. i’m having thoughts. it’s a pretty longsword.

And as a random knowledge fact, have you heard about how horses can sleep standing up? Because it’s true! They can achieve their first and second stages of sleep upright, with their joints locked. However, horses also have a third stage called REM (rapid-eye movement) sleep, which is deep enough that, just like for humans, they become essentially paralyzed and no longer have control over their bodily movements. Thus, for REM sleep, horses must be laying down.

The reason they can stand during the first and second stages of sleep is connected to the fact that they’re herd animals! Out in the wild, it would be dangerous for the entire herd to be laying down dead asleep. So, at least a few horses—sometimes half the herd or more—are standing while the rest lay down. Being not so deeply asleep, the horses standing up can detect danger sooner and alert the rest of the herd, perhaps fending off whatever the danger is while those who had been laying down stand up to fight or flee.

[lechugana]

ρωμαϊκός

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 6681

Categories: F/M, Gen

Tags: roman!percy, percabeth, no beta read, capture flag game, nico has a new pet, it’s a mouse skeleton

Summry: 

AU where Percy is roman and Annabeth is searching from him. "But you still listened to me, Jackson" Annabeth replied with a small smile on her lips. "But I still listened to you, Chase" he repeated copying her smile, the boy's smile was predatory, the smile of a boy who knows he's going to get in trouble ... and he doesn't care.

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Romans exist Annabeth repeated over and over again as she walked beside Nico.

They were both leading the Greek camp, walking the streets of New Rome. As much as Annabeth wanted to pout, she couldn't stop admiring the columns, the buildings, the marble stairs… all the classic architectural elements that Annabeth thought would be in Rome, they were here, in San Francisco. The whole city exorbitated wealth and classicism, the people wearing a mix of robes and modern clothes, the streets lined with shops that had the smallest campers trotting from window to window. Among the people walked what were lares, spirits - ghosts - of the home, Nico had already warned them of them when he had visited the camp for the first time together with Jason and with the blessing of his father, becoming an ambassador of Hades ... Pluto .

Now that they were in Rome, Hades is Pluto.

And Athena, Minerva. And Minerva has no children and is not a strategist goddess. Here is a simple virgin goddess of the arts.

On the Field of Mars were two people shoulder to shoulder, dressed in purple, white and gold robes, like the ancient Roman emperors. One was blond-haired, and Annabeth knew instantly that it was Jason, his hair shining in the sunlight, while next to him was a Latin girl, with long dark hair in a braid.

"Annabeth. Welcome to New Rome” Jason welcomed, as he spread his arms before them, his blue eyes narrowing at his smile. “She is Reyna, the second praetor of Rome. Nico, you already know her. "

"Daughter of Minerva " Reyna reached out to Annabeth. Annabeth could notice how her siblings were tense, Malcolm was behind her trying to calm the little ones.

"Athena" Annabeth corrected in the calmest way possible, her body seemed calm, but she was watching every movement of the praetor. Annabeth had realized that the girl was just like her, a strategist ready for an attack at any moment.

"Welcome to New Rome" Reyna slightly moved one of her eyebrows. “Jason's friends are our friends. We hope that your instance here is as placid as possible. I'm leaving my colleague Jason to take you on a tour of our city, I have to attend to some business ”Reyna gave Jason a look, one of those looks that is only understood among familiar people, gave him a squeeze on the arm and left followed by her two metal greyhounds.

"Really, Jason? Minerva?"

"I know I'm sorry. I've told her- Hello to you too Travis, yes Connor, I haven't forgotten about you, I'm talking to Annabeth for a moment, can you-? Thanks, Malcolm” Jason tried to get rid of the Stoll brothers, Malcolm who was seeing everything from behind, grabbed the two brothers by their ears and led them to the other end of the Field of Mars. "As I said. I told Reyna, I told her everything I needed to know about the Greeks and Camp Half-Blood, but she is…” Jason waved his hand in the air trying to find a word. "Difficult?"

Annabeth studied Jason for a few more seconds, making him more nervous than he was, his hand kept moving his glasses and his feet moved slightly from side to side. Annabeth rejoiced knowing she made Jupiter's son nervous.

"I don't blame you Jason, you're just trying to do what you can." Jason's shoulders immediately relaxed at those words. Annabeth may have been proud but not a masochist. "Now show us where to stay, oh preator."

"Now do you know Latin?"

" I've done a bit of research."

---

Their rooms were simply a camp built by a group of Roman demigods on the outskirts of the city of New Rome, as far away as possible.

Big tents with all their amenities arranged for the campers, the smaller greek campers were hopping around, excited about a night of camping out in the open, the hut bosses were running after them to calm them down, though many of them gave up even before chasing them.

"I never would have thought the Romans would exist," Malcolm whispered next to Annabeth. They were both a bit away from the chaotic camp watching them. "I wish Chiron was here." Annabeth nodded slightly; Chiron had been her father since he ran away from his family in San Francisco. The two had been inseparable since she arrived at the camp shortly after Thalia's death, Chiron always came to her when she had a problem, always counting on her opinion in any matter that arose. “Do you think he will be here? Come on, Annabeth, don't look at me like that, we have the same mother,” he laughed. “You haven't stopped looking for him since the battle, and I know you're waiting for the right moment to tell Jason. Have you ever considered that maybe he is a fugitive demigod? "

Annabeth had indeed considered that this boy had become a fugitive demigod. A demigod without a camp, who wandered from one place to another away from monsters and without having a stable place.

“Yes, I have thought about it, but…” Annabeth could feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment, “it's a hunch, okay? I know it's stupid, but I feel like it must be around here."

Annabeth wanted to drown in humiliation, Athena's children didn't follow hunches, they followed clues and logic.

Malcolm stared at her for a long time, until his shoulders sagged in defeat, “Of course it's not stupid. I just want you to remember that there is a possibility that he is not here…” Malcolm shifted between his own feet, unsure. "Or that you will never find it."

---

The Romans dining room was not disappointing either. Long wooden tables adorned with fruit bowls, silver jugs filled with drink and glasses of the same metal. The Romans were talking and throwing jokes as well as food, some were speaking louder, while others were observing their companions.

The image itself was a shock to Annabeth, she didn't know why, but she had imagined the Romans as stoic people, eating meals without laughter or talking, but the image in front of her showed her that she had been wrong.

The sound of a glass silenced everyone in the dining room, Reyna was up with a small golden dagger and a glass of the same colour, "We want to officially welcome, both my partner Jason, like me" Jason like Reyna , raised and with a golden glass in his hand, but instead of being next to him he was at the table of the Greeks with his friends Leo and Piper. “We hope that your stay in Nueva Roma will be as comfortable as possible and that our relationships for the future will be strengthened and grown for prosperity. Iubentium."

“We are very grateful that you have allowed us to stay in your camp, we hope that, like you, our relationship grows and strengthens over time and for future generations, in order to have a powerful ally among us. Cheers.” While making the speech, she tried to look around to find the boy without attracting much attention, but not locating him, Annabeth focused only on Reyna. When she finished Annabeth raised her glass at the same time as Reyna, both looking at each other as they drank from her glass, calculating each other's every move.

"Nice speech" Nico murmured next to her.

"It's sarcasm?"

“Pf, yes and no. The speech was fine, but you could tell in the air how you were throwing knives at each other” he said simply as he swallowed four chips at the same time. Clarisse who was listening nearby snorted proudly at Annabeth.

"I do not like her. She’s hard to read,” Annabeth admitted as she tossed her food back and forth without much appetite.

“Normal” Nico drank from his Coca-Cola, “her mother is Bellona, ​​the Roman goddess of strategy. She is also watching you Annabeth and can't figure you out. You both collide by nature- Will, I'm not going to eat a pear, I hate pears."

Annabeth let the two boys argue about nutritional values ​​and her gaze began to search among the many heads of the Romans, but as before, no clue of that boy.

"Oh Hazel. What good find "Annabeth looked up listening to the voice of Jason. Hazel, she supposed, was the girl with dark skin and curly hair, the girl was very short in stature, maybe she was not over thirteen. She was dressed in a purple T-shirt and gold breastplate, her matching helmet carried under one arm, and a sword slightly too large for her hung from her hip. "Ah, I didn't know you were talking to your brother, I'm sorry Nico, but do you know where Jackson is?"

Hazel was thoughtful for a moment, but then shook her head, “He wasn't on watch today, and from what Frank has told me, I don't think he's in the stables. Maybe in the bathrooms? I do not know."

“Ah… don't worry, it doesn't matter. I just wanted him to meet the Greeks.” He turned to Annabeth when he saw her confused face. "Jackson is a ... how to say, a free spirit?" Jason laughed at the comparison. "He does not like to follow the rules very much and he always gets into trouble, surely you would get along well."

"He's my kind of man," Connor blurted out from behind his brother, his hair full of roots, growing little by little around his neck.

"Susan, please don't strangle Connor at lunch." Piper scolded Demeter's daughter from the other end.

"Susan, don't stop," shouted a son of Aphrodite from the other end.

The cries of the Greek demigods filled the air of the dining room. Some encouraging Susan to strangle Connor, Hermes cabin maliciously clawing at Connor's face to break the roots. Other campers rose from their seats to watch the show between Demeter's cabin and Hermes. Hazel who was still present next to Nico giggled at the ruckus that had formed in a very short time.

"I can't imagine what your camp will be like day by day."

Annabeth smiled at the teenager with pride warming her chest as she saw the scene that had been lovingly formed.

---

Ares's cabin exploded into cheers upon hearing the news that they were going to fight the Romans, at the same time, Hermes's cabin joined in the cheers, leaving the other campers staring at each other with terror in their eyes.

Annabeth studied Jason's proposal, she knew that it was tradition to have friendly fights (in the case of the Greeks to capture the flag), but after meeting Reyna, Annabeth expected any trap to catch the Greeks and give an excuse to the Greeks. Romans to attack them.

Nico and Piper were next to her, studying her reaction.

"Annabeth, I think Jason wouldn't have proposed this to us if there really was a trap." Piper tried to reason with her, inadvertently using her charmspeak.

"It doesn’t matter if he is a praetor, that doesn’t mean that they tell him everything" she murmured stubbornly, the two have been friends for a long time and her charmspeak no longer had that much effect.

"Nico, tell him that nothing is going to happen."

Nico, instead of answering, was silent with his two hands in his pockets, hunched over, looking at the ground, a small mouse skeleton curled up at his feet.

"What do you want me to say? What Chase said is true. ” Nico reached down and scooped up the mouse skeleton in the palm of his hand. “Jason is… a visionary. And visionaries tend to have a lot of ideas, and those ideas cause change. The Romans don't like change. They like tradition. And right now, the tradition is that both Greeks and Romans are separated, as they always have been. "

"You're no help, death boy," Piper growled, earning an angry scowl from the smaller boy.

"Can you feel if something bad is going to happen?"

"If someone is going to die?" Nico frowned again, but this time in concentration. "No. Everything is still fine; nothing feels out of place. "

"You see? No carnage is going to form,” Leo exclaimed jovially from behind Piper. "Don't look at me like that mija, it's a good thing!"

"But that doesn't mean there is going to be a catch."

Piper threw both hands in the air, finally giving up on this conversation. Annabeth was too stubborn to change her mind.

The girl from before, Hazel, came back together with a boy much taller than her and leafier, they both greeted Nico happily and he responded dryly, as always, too focused on his new skeleton pet. The two Romans were there to guide them to the weapons room, where they can equip themselves for the afternoon games.

Hazel was talking animatedly to Nico, her curly hair trotting as she walked, the boy a little further behind the two demigods, always keeping a safe distance from the son of Hades. Annabeth raised an eyebrow when she noticed that the boy was afraid of poor Nico.

The leaders of the huts tried to line up their brothers to give them the necessary weapons, but as always, no one was listening to anyone, so everyone ran to get the best weapon they could find. Both Annabeth and Nico stood at the gate watching, both carrying their weapons on their hips, Annabeth watched her brothers giving advice to the other campers on which weapons would suit them best in battle, while Nico watched Will trying to calm her down. his brothers when it came to catching arrows and bows, a small group from Apollo's hut stayed behind Will, hinting that they would be the paramedics on the battlefield.

When everyone was already armed and protected with armour, they followed the two Roman boys to the Field of Mars.

“Wow, why do they have a battlefield? I also want one!" Ares's hut began to protest as they admired the battlefield.

"And have you seen his armoury?"

"I do not like. It's all outdoors, I prefer to be in the forest. "

“So you can tangle me with roots again? No thanks."

"I told you it was accidental!"

"Unintentionally does not mean catching someone with roots and hanging them from a tree."

"Mathew is trying to cast a spell on me!"

"The Romans are going to crush us," Nico muttered.

Annabeth didn't have the mind to worry about the campers, she already had different routes and strategies in mind to fight the Romans. Yes, the Romans may be very meticulous and were known worldwide for their formations on the battlefields. But the Greeks had a factor that they did not have, they had no order. The Greeks were neither orderly nor organized, in the battles each one went on his own, without following any training, and that freedom when fighting could give them an advantage right now.

The Romans were already in the middle of the field, all standing in ranks and cohorts, dressed in golden armour and red shields. The image gave Annabeth chills.

In front of the five cohorts were the two praetors, both dressed in purple capes and like the other Roman campers, in gold armour. Whereas Jason had an excited glint in his eyes as he spotted Leo and Piper amid the tide of demigods; Reyna, on the other hand, her gaze was not as friendly as that of her partner, with her arms crossed and her back straight she watched as the mestizo camp arrived at the place.

Annabeth wanted to get rid of the bad feeling she had in her body, she could imagine what the Romans were seeing when they arrived at the place, a group of unstructured demigods walking scattered around the place, some were running around, others were on top of others, some they were lagging in the back. Annabeth shook her thoughts, the Greeks defeated the army of Cronos, a titan, they were not weak.

When Annabeth arrived at the scene, standing in the front row, with the entire camp behind her, she watched Camp Jupiter, some of the campers who were there laughing at each other as they shot them glances.

“As you are smaller in number, a cohort will help you during the games. Fifth cohort."

The first cohorts began to laugh among themselves as they looked at the last cohort, in it, the two centurions in front were visibly discouraged. One of them took out a flask and began to drink from it, while the other centurion tried to shake him off.

"Each group go to your place."

And with that said, each group went to one side of the field. Annabeth waited for the Fifth Cohort to approach them.

"Good luck with the graecus."

"In the end, the outcasts gather among themselves."

"How many victories are we going to have already?"

"I think twenty-seven."

"No, thirty."

Despite the comments from the campers, one of the centurions tried to liven up the atmosphere, cheering up his subordinates, giving smiles and patting on the back, while the other centurion continued to drink from his flask while visibly leaning on his companion. 

“We are the fifth cohort. Jason has told us a lot about you” the centurion introduced himself. "I'm Gwendolyn, and this is my partner Dakota ... don't worry he's drinking Kool-Aid", slapping her hand on the flask caught his attention.

"I hope you like losing." Dakota lifted his flask and took a sip. Annabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Annabeth. I guess you know who Nico is. She's Clarisse… There is Will… Oh, this is Piper…” Annabeth rummaged through the other campers with the cabin leaders, but seeing that the Stoll brothers were doing their thing, she stopped naming with a sigh.

"Are you all the praetors?" Dakota exclaimed upon hearing the number of names Annabeth had named.

"Mn? Oh no. We are the cabin leaders. A cabin by God. "

The Fifth Cohort gaped at them. Apparently, they did have more differences than they imagined.

“We are always defending ourselves. It's easier to accept defeat.” Gwen shrugged.

"Pathetic" Clarisse snorted. Both Ares's and Nike's cabins supported her.

"You don't know who is in the first cohort!"

"Of course, we don't know, we are new, remember?" said Fred, a Hermes boy, who bore a horrible resemblance to the Stoll brothers. 

"And we do not care, we are going to crush them" a girl from Nike jumped up from behind, hitting her fist with her hand for more emphasis, both Nike's cabin and Ares's hut jumped in cheers at those words. 

"Let’s not get so excited, they are not monsters ..." A child from Iris tried to quietly calm the other campers. 

"Shut up Eugene."

Annabeth sighed and looked sideways at the Romans, "We never stare." Annabeth turned to be seen by both Greeks and Romans. "We are going to attack. Romans and Greeks. Will, choose one of your brothers to go into battle for medical help. Nico, I think you already know what to do. Nina, she will give you some inventions from Hephaestus's cabin, listen to her well what they are for. You Romans, stand in the front row, shields raised and prepare to defend. "

Annabeth watched as everyone fell into place. Will named some of his faster brothers to go to the field, while Nico caught some of the Hermes and Demeter campers explaining the plan. Piper, in the background, was practicing her spell-talk with Leo. Nina was handing out small gadgets to some of the campers followed by Hecate's children who were giving some explanations of how they worked. Clarisse, along with Nike's hut and Ares were sharpening their weapons, looking with sharp smiles at the Romans scaring them. 

"How do you know we are going to win? She is nothing but a daughter of Min… Athena. And they are Romans, and they always play dirty, no matter what you do, we are going to lose” Annabeth made out Dakota's voice behind her as she fixed her golden bib. 

"Athena always has a plan." Annabeth smiled at Malcolm's voice. 

---

Ugh. Annabeth hated fighting in the open field, she preferred to fight in the woods of the half-blood camp, it was easier to hide there, and the trees helped her to form even more convoluted plans than usual. 

From his place he could see how Reyna flew over the fields of Mars on the back of her pegasus, even from there he could see her frown and how she judged them from the sky. On the floor and sitting in a box, Jason was looking at them with bright and expectant eyes, Annabeth couldn't help but think that Jason looked like a labrador retriever, wagging his tail from side to side excitedly. 

On the other side of the field were the other cohorts, preparing for battle, from her place, Annabeth could see as they were placed in an attack position, prepared to fight. 

"Are you sure it's going to work?" Malcolm appeared behind her. 

"I hope so." Malcolm glanced at her, looked like he wanted to say something, but at the last moment he closed his mouth and hunched his shoulders in defeat.  

"They look prepared," he simply said. "I'm scared."

"For us?" Annabeth this time looked at him raising an eyebrow. 

"Mn? No way. For them. I don't think I've ever seen Clarisse so excited in a battle, I think I've heard her say she's going to try to split the Romans in two. The Romans have never had to endure the fury of the sons of Ares. "

"And the Nike ones," Annabeth recalled. 

"Don't remind me, ugh."

Both Annabeth and Malcolm laughed as they watched the Romans on the other side moving from side to side. 

A trumpet sounded from overhead, Annabeth raised her head and saw Reyna look her directly in the eye. All of this was challenging. A challenge to see if the Greeks were worth it. And Annabeth already knew. 

Taking one last look at the Romans already in position, she went to hers, raising her eyebrow in recognition of Reyna. 

---

“Gwendolyn, I need you to help us form defences. Get into position swinging line, on the left flank, not right. Put the archers in the first row, not in the last, and then in the second row put an arrow line. "

Gwendolyn looked at her with wide eyes, shocked to hear the Greek know the Roman techniques and embarrassed that she did not know any Greek techniques. With a nod of his head he ran after his fellow Romans giving them Annabeth's orders. 

Seeing that her zone was in motion, she braced herself. Praying that he hadn't been wrong. 

From her spot she could see how the fifth cohort got into the position she had said, thanking herself for her curiosity in having studied Roman defence tactics. The fifth cohort advanced from their position, alerting the Romans to their orthodox attacking position, the archers should be behind not in front, and it was the right flank that was more protected than the left, just as soldiers with arrows should be in the front row. Annabeth heard the confused sounds of the other cohorts when she saw that position, cracking their positions and hesitating when attacking, she could hear the confusing sounds of the enemy cohorts from her place. That made her smile. 

After appreciating their tactics in action, Annabeth jumped into action. Picking up her dagger, she jumped to the right flank, seeing that the defence of that area was weakened, running between the Roman and Greek campers. 

From her place she could see Nico's signal, probably aided by his sister Hazel, a lump, almost imperceptible on the ground, with a silver coin gleaming in the sunlight. Taking a deep breath, she lunged for the signal, dodging and kicking the Romans, and the Greeks pulling away with experience. She could see the silver coin shining brighter every time she got closer, but halfway there she saw a group of Romans rush over the sign, taking it to the other side of the field. 

"Shit," Annabeth blurted out after someone tackled her. 

"Minerva's daughter," a Roman hissed. The boy had a shield almost the same height as him and was covered by golden armour. His face was covered by a helmet of the same material. Annabeth snorted at those words. Right now, he didn't feel like fighting an angry idiot. "You are going to learn to respect our goddess-"

Without letting him finish the sentence, Annabeth lunged towards the boy and he raised the shield reflexively, just before she hit the shield, Annabeth turned to the side, surprising the Roman with a kick to his back, throwing him to the side. From above, Annabeth raised her dagger to threaten the boy at her feet, but when she raised her hand, she realized that his dagger was gone. Looking everywhere for it, she acknowledges that the poor dagger had disappeared at the time of the tackle. 

Annabeth wanted to hit a wall. 

"Annie!" Piper yelled from her right throwing something at her. Annabeth reflexively raised her arm and saw that what Piper had thrown at her was nothing more than a stick in the shape of a 'y'. “Don't look at me like that, it was you who asked me to look for him if there was an emergency. Hey you! You are very sleepy ... be careful! oh, he fell head-on, do you think he'll be okay? That had to hurt. " 

Annabeth shook her head and took the stick in the shape of an 'y' and with a calculated blow she hit the boy at her feet on the head knocking him unconscious. Taking the stick by its shorter sides, she put the longer stick in front of him, pointing her way. Pointing it to the ground.

The stick had not yet moved, leading Annabeth to despair, the Greek kept pacing back and forth, sometimes in circles, looking for the stick to vibrate. Was she wrong? She was seldom wrong, and she was too proud to accept that she was wrong. In addition, she was the daughter of Athena, she could find another solution, every problem has a solution. A small vibration went up his arms, jumping from his place he saw the long stick vibrate to the ground. Releasing the air that she did not know she was holding, she followed the vibrations of the stick, following the path that led to the stick vibrating even more. She stayed above a point where the vibrations had made her arms not stop shaking. 

It's here. Annabeth thought. 

A clash of metal made her raise her head.

"Do you want to become a skewer or what?" The boy in front of her yelled from his helmet. That boy had stopped an attack from the other side, an attack that was going for her. Snorting, Annabeth ignored him, but marked with her foot where the stick had pointed. "I've saved your life and that's how you thank me-"

Annabeth pushed the boy away when she saw from the corner of her eye that another Roman was going after them, throwing the boy to one side, she dodged the spear by turning on herself, grabbed that spear at the same time, pulling the Roman towards her and knocking them out with one of his elbows. 

Turning around, she saw how both the boy and she were cornered by a group of Romans with their spears pointed at them. They both unconsciously approached each other, touching each other back to back, noticing their breaths. The boy's helmet fell right next to the two boys, Annabeth imagined that the boy had thrown the helmet out of frustration.  

"You are surrounded" shouted one of the Romans. 

"Really? I didn’t see it” the boy behind him said slightly, the boy resting his head on the crown of Annabeth's head, thanks to the fact that he was at least half a head taller than her. 

"Surrender."

The group of Romans stepped forward, further closing the circle that the two boys had around them. 

Annabeth surveyed her surroundings, still noting the weight on her head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the boy was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, revealing his tattoo on his arm. Annabeth's heart leapt at the sight of him.  

"I have a plan." 

"Huh. It's going to be suicide."

"Maybe. But I'm not going to lose to the Romans."

"Do I have to remind you that I am a Roman?" 

Annabeth wanted to kick him. "There is water below us. Use it." 

Annabeth noticed how the boy tensed behind her. "I cannot."

"Yes, you can. I've seen your tattoo."

The boy gulped, his breathing shallower and faster. "I've never done."

You're must be kidding me, Annabeth thought. "That's not what I saw in New York, seaweed brains."

"Gods, you're wise girl" Seaweed brains let out a slow breath, Annabeth could tell how the boy shook his head slightly. "I still remember you, you know? That back kick hurt too much."

"I took a stab for you."

Seaweed brains laughed shaking his shoulders, "I still owe you one, now that you mention it."

"Well, if you owe me one, use the water." Annabeth nudged him in the ribs as he hissed between her teeth. 

"It’s not that easy. The Romans hate everything that surrounds my father, remember? Give thanks that they let me be in this camp" little by little, both Annabeth and the boy were placed in attack position. 

"And what difference does it make if they hate you, all the more reason for you to use your power, they won't change their opinion of you."

"They can kick me out of the camp." 

"You have another camp on the other side of the country." 

Seaweed brains turned, making her pull with him. The breath of Annabeth stayed in her throat. The boy was just as she remembered, if not, even better. He had grown in recent years, his hair, which was short before, was now longer and even blacker if that was possible, making his long hair tousled as if he had walked by the sea. His sea green eyes shone with that expression of melancholy and sarcasm that captivated Annabeth the first time she saw him. Even his skin glowed a golden hue in the San Francisco sun, and he had grown in recent years, becoming taller than her.  

"You're still as eloquent as the last time I saw you, wise girl."

"I didn't know you knew that word."

"I've done a bit of research. I still remember not understanding half of the words you were saying."

"But you still listened to me, Jackson" Annabeth replied with a small smile on her lips. 

"But I still listened to you, Chase" he repeated copying her smile, the boy's smile was predatory, the smile of a boy who knows he's going to get in trouble ... and he doesn't care. 

Seaweed Brain put his hand into a fist and instant water came around the couple, drowning the group of Romans who were around him. Annabeth heard the screams behind the wall of water, she also saw how the Romans tried to swim among the torrent of water, dust and sand, spears and shields sailed without an owner. Lowering his hands, the water calmed down as the tidal wave of Romans, weapons and shields fell to the ground. 

"Here" Seaweed brains threw a dagger in his direction. Annabeth took it instinctively, realizing shortly after that it was her dagger. "You had lost it."

A scream sounded behind Percy, causing Annabeth to act quickly, making the Roman a hold on his arm and throwing him with all his might to the ground. 

"Ugh, that had to hurt" Percy giggled, scratching his neck slowly. Walking towards the Roman he leaned out so he could see his face. "Now someone has suffered what I had to suffer. I still don't know how you can lift all that weight like nothing. You told me you were going to teach me, wise girl." 

A horn sounded from the sky, ending the battle. Annabeth rose from the ground, stepping over the fallen Roman and standing by Percy's side, staring at the mess he had made. The water had formed a diameter of at least two kilometres, washing away all the opposing combatants, leaving the allies dry. Awesome. 

"The Greeks have won" Reyna's voice rang out over the entire battlefield. 

"Wow. As always your plans work" Percy glanced at her. "I thought you were going to be more excited to see me. It's been a few years now that I think about it, how's Grover doing, I tried to talk to him, but-"

Teary-eyed Annabeth silenced him with a fist on his jaw.

---

The first time Annabeth saw Percy was in New York, a few months before the battle against Kronos. The boy had run into her while on the run against a monster. Annabeth, out of sheer instinct, grabbed his arm and helped him escape from the monster, both working in perfect coordination, which caused Annabeth to have chills all over her body. 

Annabeth and Percy had been partners ever since, both working shoulder to shoulder to defeat Cronos. The only problem was that Percy was never at Camp Half-Blood, always making excuses when Annabeth told him to visit. 

It was when Grover showed up that Annabeth got her confirmations on Percy. He was a Roman demigod, not a Greek, he was the son of Neptune, not Poseidon. A strange sensation had risen up the girl's back, she could even notice her mother looking at her with accusing eyes. 

You have joined the enemy. With the enemy. 

She even noticed how a bubble of hatred grew when he thought of the Roman demigod, but when he saw those green eyes, the bubble exploded. The boy was looking at her fearfully, his eyes staring at the ground, preparing to leave her sight, but he also had a defeated look, as if he already knew what was going to happen. Annabeth shook off the feeling of that bubble of hatred and smiled at Percy, making that look the boy had disappear in a moment. 

From that day on, Percy, Grover and Annabeth were inseparable, always staying at the boy's house to make plans, although it was more like Annabeth making plans and Grover and Percy eating Miss Jackson’s cookies. Part of her time she was asking about the world of the Romans, her curiosity floating around as she listened to the information the boy gave her. She learned that Neptune was not as respected as in the world of the Greeks, she also heard how Percy told him the threats he suffered when he tried to use his control over the water. The only person he got along with was Jason, a son of Jupiter, they were both in the same cohort, and now they were more than friends, both always together, despite the voices of the lares and the other demigods, all of them wanted to keep the great Jason away from the son of Neptune, a boy who only brought bad luck and trouble.

Annabeth and Percy grew closer each day, somehow Percy complemented her. On the outside it seemed that he was nothing more than a handsome boy without a head, but being almost living together in the boy's house, Annabeth realized that it was only the boy's personality, he was much smarter than he seemed, filling in the blank holes of Annabeth's plans. He also had blind faith in her, something that caused her mixed feelings. His fatal flaw was loyalty, Minerva had told him on one of her missions.

And the day of the Battle of New York arrived, they decided it was better than Percy did not speak about his Roman lineage, both say that Percy is a fugitive demigod, and had seen the danger had formed in his city and he had come to help.

They both fought shoulder to shoulder, as if they had grown up a lifetime together. Both protected their backs and threw themselves for the attacks that went to the other.

In the battle of the bridge, when Rachel came to speak about the prophecy, Annabeth stood in front of Percy, blocking a lunge that went for the boy, falling seriously injured. Annabeth did not remember much of what happened next, she only noticed painful palpitations in her body, how little by little her body became cold, but at the same time the wound was burning. There was a moment when he opened his eyes and looked Percy in the eye.

“You are cute when you worry, with your sulky eyebrows. "

Thanks to the great work of the Apollo children, Annabeth was at 75 percent of her abilities, and ready to fight Kronos. The three friends, Percy, Annabeth and Grover went to Olympus to finally fight Cronos.

The memory of Eric still hurt Annabeth, she remembered how she had given her life to betray Cronos, despite the fact that his betrayal was useless, since Luke's body was bathed in the Styx river. Eric's words echoed in their ears, asking for their help so that the next generations of demigods were recognized by their parents. After Eric's death, Percy had given the knife to Luke, having full faith in Annabeth and that her persuasion would bring Luke to light. The knife entering the demigod's body caused Kronos's body to turn to nothing but dust, leaving Luke's dead body.

Annabeth had fallen to her feet, clutching Luke in her arms, Percy and Grover on either side of her. Annabeth knew that Percy couldn't stay in this place for long. Rising up with a force she didn't know where she had gotten it from, she had escorted Percy to the elevator, leaving Grover by Luke's side and helping Thalia somewhere on Olympus.

"I have to go back to Camp Jupiter," Percy whispered, they were both about the same height, their eyes being on the same level. Percy's eyes were red, and pockets of water accumulated in them. Annabeth's eyes were surely worse.

"Before the gods return," Annabeth whispered as well.

"We will see each other again" the phrase sounded more like a question, green eyes searching for something between grey eyes.

Annabeth didn't answer him but kissed him at the elevator doors. It was a soft and loving kiss. Annabeth didn't know when she was going to see him again ... or if she was going to see him again. Before the boy could say anything, she pushed him into the elevator.

"Chase, we'll meet again." This time it didn't sound like a question, but rather a statement. The sea green eyes held great determination.

And the doors were closed.

And it took two years for me to see him again.

---

The Romans around her gasped as Annabeth knocked Neptune's son down with a punch to the jaw. Annabeth didn't let him get up, getting on top of him putting an arm around his throat, hinting that she would strangle him without a doubt.

Percy, instead of revealing himself, laughed under her. His green eyes sparkled with new light, tearing at the wide, white-toothed smile he now wore. Some of his freckles that came out from the sun were hidden among his wrinkles. From above Annabeth could see the resemblance he had to Poseidon, both with black hair and brown skin, and both with the same wrinkles next to their eyes that appeared when they smiled.

"You're cute when you worry." Percy held up a finger, putting it in the same place Annabeth had put it two years ago, between her eyebrows. "With your brows furrowed."

Annabeth whimpered and lunged toward the boy, hugging his shoulders and neck. Annabeth could hear the boy giggling as he hugged her back. Raising her head, through the tears she only recognized those green eyes that had haunted her for years and without thinking twice she kissed him.

[fullmetalscullyy]

a conspiracy theory - chapter 5

co-written by @snowdog49 and @jeanhaavoc

summary:  Detective Roy takes on a challenging task… To find Olivier Armstrong’s sword. However, he has a beautiful woman to distract him along the way. Will he, Jean, and Ed be able to find the sword in time, or will they succumb to the conspiracy?

warning: graphic depictions of violence

tags: conspiracy, pining, unresolved sexual tension, private detective au, royai, havolina, mystery, violence, modern au, coffee shops

rated: m | words: 4697

read on ao3

Ling had insisted on Roy and Ed meeting at his apartment, which was fine if Roy knew what he was going up against. When he parked the car and got out, the apartment proved to be the whole house. It was on the river’s bank, two stories, and a large garage. The lawn was well kept, with a large tree shadowing the grass and a cherry tree on the other side by the garage. There was a silver motorcycle parked out front in the driveway as well as a black sports car. Roy had to roll his eyes. If there was ever a definition of a politician’s kid, Ling was proving himself one even before meeting Roy. Ed stared at the bike, then back at Roy, who just kept walking up to the door. He half expected a butler or some kind of servant to answer the door, but instead, the young man himself did. Ling was barefoot with dark jeans and a white t-shirt on, covered by a sports coat. He grinned ear to ear and waved them in.

“Mustang right? Come on in!” He was cheery and almost carefree. His shoulders were relaxed and his legs walked easily as if he was inviting friends into his home.  

Roy already found Ling almost too happy. He was just a little taller than Ed, black hair pulled back with wild hairs in front of his face. He had on this goofy smile and a bounce in his step. He had nothing to hide, and it showed in the way he welcomed them both into his house without another thought. Roy noted that behaviour, but didn’t think there would be a reason to agonize over it later. After all, he was just a kid.

As they walked through the hallway, Roy noted the house was decorated rather normally, and Roy felt as if Ling’s parents were going to come out at any time. The living room had a couch and a coffee table, a big TV on the wall above the fireplace. It wasn’t ‘fancy’ by any means, but neither modest. Taking in more of his surroundings, Roy noted the large picture of the Xing capital on the wall.

“Is that your bike out there?” Roy heard, pulling him from his observations. He turned to look over at Ed.

“Yeah!” Ling nodded excitedly. “It’s the X-3005!”

“That’s freaking sweet!” Roy couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Ed so happy. His face lit up like a child’s on Christmas Morning. “I was trying to get my girlfriend to let me buy the BDR-889 but she says I’m only going to hurt myself.”

The young Xingese man laughed, holding his stomach as he did so. “All girls would say that. No! Don’t sell yourself short. The X class is where it’s at,” he gushed. “The BDRs are bikes for commuters. I will give credit where it’s due, they have great gas mileage, and they’re incredibly reliable, but they just aren’t as powerful.”

Roy’s eyes widened as he saw the connection right away.

“Come check out my garage!”

And just like that, his protege and Ling walked through the house and into the garage. Slightly bewildered, Roy watched the two of them walk off without him. Roy didn’t even think they remembered why he was there, or even if he existed at all. That was fine, though. It gave him time to walk slowly through to the garage after them, and take in as much as he could about the house.

It was quiet, the boards creaked under his feet. There was Xingese music playing in the garage and he heard Ed laughing. The kitchen was full of dishes, and there was a pizza box on the counter. It was finally starting to look like a young man lived there. On the dining table, in the same room, there was a computer and several books. As Roy rose onto his tiptoes to see as he passed by, he noticed Ling was studying law, Amestrian Law. He nodded and walked down the hallway. There were more pictures of Xing, and one of Ling, and what he guessed was his entire family. There were nearly 20 people in the photo. Maybe they were his friends? There were older people in there too. Roy tilted his head as he began to wonder who was in the picture.

“My girl Lan Fan hates it!”

Roy raised his eyebrow. Ed was doing exactly what he needed to be doing. It’d loosen Ling Yao up just enough so that he’d talk more casually.

Roy peered carefully into one room as he walked by, noticing that it had a few sets of weights in it. On the wall sat a few Xingese-type swords. They weren’t Amestrian at all. Leaning slightly further in the doorway, he also noticed some kunai knives. They sat more as a decoration on the wall, though Roy was curious if Ling knew how to use them. There were two mats on the floor, a mirror on the wall, and resistance bands on the floor. He nodded, his hair swaying as he returned to the hall. There were stairs on his left before he reached the garage, but Roy decided not to push his luck. He’d seen enough in his slow sweep. The house was just too clean. It was too big for just an Ambassador’s son to be living in by himself.

“No way!”

Roy gave in and walked the last few feet towards the garage, coming to a stop so he could lean on the doorframe. Ed was sitting on a jetski with a huge grin on his face.

“I’m serious,” Ling nodded excitedly. “We can go out! I’ll take you anytime!”

“This weekend?”

Ling nodded to Ed.

“This is freaking awesome!” Ed thrust his hands into the air.

Roy couldn’t help but laugh.

“Even for a twenty-year-old, you have so many toys.”

Ling laughed loudly again. “I’m eighteen. I just look older.”

Ed’s hands fell to his side. “You’re younger than me?”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“But,” Ed blinked with a sad face. “You’re taller than me…”

The two stared at one another for what seemed like too long. Roy finally spoke. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I just have a few questions to ask, then I can let you two go back to the jet ski.”

“Sure,” Ling crossed his arms and turned to face Roy.

“You remember Selim Bradley’s birthday party two weeks ago?”

“Oh yeah,” Ling nodded as he put out an arm to lean on a car in the garage. It was another sports car that now had Roy distracted. “Crappy party. There wasn't a birthday cake. There was this rich fudge stuff and they gave me a little spoon.” He pinched his finger and his thumb together to indicate ‘small.’ “There wasn’t an actual meal, just o’dourves. They were good though. And they didn’t have beer either! Usually, I don’t mind wine, but a beer would have been great since they didn’t have a regular birthday cake.”

Roy nodded his head slowly.

“I actually brought the kid a birthday present and didn’t even see the kid!”

“I just wish I went to a party that had o‘dourves,” Ed commented quietly behind Ling.

“Well,” Ling turned now to face Ed. “I was there by proxy. Ambassador Fu likes to take me so that I can learn the tricks of the trade.” He faced Roy. “To be political,” he made quotation marks with his fingers.

Roy nodded slowly. Didn’t Raven say…

“I really didn’t want to be there. My girlfriend, Lan Fan was having a bonfire. I left as soon as I could. Bonfires have better food anyway. I think I ate fifty marshmallows.”

Ed laughed. “That’s easy.”

“Next bonfire,” Ling pointed his finger at Ed, challenging him. “You are on!”

“Okay,” Roy interrupted calmly as he raised his hand. “So you left…”

“Yeah. That was that.”

“Did you see a sword?”

Ling scoffed. “No.”

“You didn’t see a military sword?” Ed clarified.

Ling shook his head. “I would’ve been all over that.”

Roy nodded and sighed loudly. “I’m guessing you’re not one to show off swords of all kinds?”

“The only real sword is from Xing,” Ling laughed loudly. “Sabers are of Amestris. I think you also have a few rapiers, but Aerugo traditionally fights with rapiers.” Ling took a fencing stance and acted as if he was fencing. The young man was very amusing, and free talking.

“You don’t want an Amestrian sword?”

“A saber? Naw,” Ling snorted a laugh. “I’m from Xing. What would I do with a saber?”

“Just to show off. I saw your work out room. You have some nice swords on the wall.”

Ling nodded. “But you don’t see any saber -” he stopped and his face became serious. “Are you insinuating that I stole something of King Bradley’s?”

Roy chuckled. “Maybe…”

“No, Man.” Ling shook his hands in front of his face. “Stealing is low. I’m the Xingese President’s son! I do not stoop that low. In fact, I’m offended that you even insinuated it!”

“No offense meant,” Ed quickly called from behind. “We just have to ask. We were asked to find it and were hoping you knew where it was.”

Ling shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have it. I ate a few of those fancy finger foods and left.”

“No sword?” Roy asked seriously.

Ling shook his head.

“I’m sure you hear quite a bit, being in and out of official offices.” Roy reached into his pocket. “Will you call me if you hear anything, anything at all?”

Ling shook his head and put his hands in his pockets. “Not my thing, Mr. Mustang. It’s not my property, not really worried about it.”

“Can you give me a call,” Ed asked, walking up next to Ling.

“Yeah, le me get you my info and we can go out tomorrow or Sunday and ride some waves!”

Ling and Edward pushed past Roy and into the kitchen. He nodded with a grin.

Ling was as innocent as they could get. But a frown soon followed on Roy’s face. Now the investigation was getting deeper than a stolen sword. He walked to the front door and leaned against it, hearing the two young men exchange contact information. It was obvious that Senator Raven lied about it being invitation only, and it was Bradley’s house. He scratched his cheek in thought.

“Are you going to see King Bradley?”

Roy turned to see the two walk from the living room to the entryway.

“It was his house. Oh! I have tickets to this dinner they are having. The Bradleys like to entertain, but they are so annoying.” Ling dropped his head to the side with a groan. “They talk too much. Anyway, it’s some fundraiser for exchange students… or something like that. I have no idea. It’s invitation only. You should go! Maybe you can talk to someone there!”

“Will there be the same crowd there?” Ed walked next to Roy.

“Mostly. Maybe more.” Ling ran over to the mantle and grabbed two letters from it, handing them to Roy. “That will get you in. Free fancy food and wine!”

“Thanks!” Ed raised his hand and the two high-fived.

“See you Saturday!”

Roy opened the door. “Thank you for your help, Ling,” Roy called as he walked out the door.

They walked calmly to the car, Ed trying not to jump in excitement too much and remain professional. Roy could see right through it.

“You did really well in there,” he complimented.

“Huh?” Ed opened his door.

“Just… Good job.”

“What did I do?”

Roy just grinned and got into his side of the car. “You did everything you should’ve done.”

*          *          *

A headache was beginning to form fairly quickly in Roy’s head. He’d spent too long looking at the same photographs, with his mind going into overdrive, trying to write up motivations for possible suspects. His eyes drooped as he looked at his computer screen, typing up the last thought he had so that he didn’t lose it. Even that felt like an extreme effort. Hitting period, he sat back in his chair, defeated at the moment. This was taking too long. Everything felt unorganized and he had no solid lead yet. He hated it. He needed results, he needed something to go on, he needed…

“I need a coffee,” he muttered to himself.

A good boost of caffeine would fuel him for the rest of the afternoon. Rebecca and Jean were already out on their lunch. Edward had left to do the same shortly after the couple, mumbling about going to meet his girlfriend, Winry. Roy had been adamant he’d work through lunch and try and get a solid lead by the end of Friday afternoon, but that goal was slowly becoming impossible. Admitting defeat and locking the office door, Roy made his way tiredly to his car.

Although there were two coffee shops closer to the office than Metric Coffee, Roy felt he needed some good coffee for his lunch break in order to get him through the rest of the day. Plus, they did delicious doughnuts. He could use a doughnut.

He pulled up across the street in his car and parked. As he crossed the road, his heart leapt in his throat as he spotted a familiar-looking dog outside. He faltered in his step before picking up his pace to almost jog to the cafe. Feeling flushed, Roy pushed open the door, as his eyes instantly searched for a familiar blonde head. Despite the excitement, he reminded himself that there was more than one Shiba Inu in Central.

Looking down the line, he didn’t see her. Riza wasn’t at any of the tables either. His face fell, and he sulked as he moved to the line. She wasn’t here. Roy exhaled loudly, feeling disappointment wash over him.

It was short-lived. To his left, he caught movement out the corner of his eye, slightly behind him. The door to the customer toilets opened, and Riza walked out of it. She turned, making sure the toilet door closed softly, before shouldering her purse more securely, and moved to join the back of the line. She didn’t see him, he was too far up the line, and she didn’t seem to be paying much attention to her surroundings. She was dressed in what had to be her work clothes, wearing a simple white blouse and black dress pants. A black cardigan covered her shoulders, which looked light enough that it wouldn’t be too warm to wear in the summer heat, but would also protect against the gentle breeze outside.

Roy took a step forward in the queue, momentarily distracted. His emotions whiplashed as excitement coursed through him. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but promptly closed it. If he didn’t say anything, he would be able to buy her a coffee like he’d offered to.

“What will it be, Sir?” the server asked politely.

“A black coffee, please.” Indecision ruled him for a moment before he grinned with confidence. “And a caramel latte as well, please.”

“Of course.”

With both drinks in hand, he walked towards her, unable to keep the grin off his face. Noticing movement out the corner of her eye, Riza looked up from her phone. Her eyebrows had been drawn together again, a deep frown on her face as she studied the contents of her phone. However, her expression relaxed as their eyes met, and a smile spread across her face in a way that made Roy’s heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” he greeted. It was like he was welcoming a long lost friend back into his life, that’s how happy he was to see her.

“Hello, Roy.” She glanced down at the drink he’d extended to her. “What’s this for?” She looked slightly confused at the offer, but still looked happy to see him.

“I did say I would buy you a coffee,” he reminded her.

“You did,” she agreed dryly. “That was very kind of you.” She took the drink from him carefully but their fingers still brushed, her fingers slipping alongside his. Roy felt a jolt go through his hand and he tried to hide his breath stuttering and the way his hand flinched at the electric sizzle of their connection. He kept his eyes on her drink and ignored the strong urge to look up to see if Riza had a similar reaction. Instead, he heard a sincere, “Thank you, Roy.” He glanced up at her face this time, noticing the softening smile gracing her features.

“Don’t mention it,” he beamed. His fingers were still tingling after brushing against hers, a feeling he relished. Roy slipped his free hand into his pocket, making a fist as the warmth there continued to spread through his hand.

“You got my order right as well,” Riza commented with a raised eyebrow. “I’m beginning to think you really do stalk me,” she smirked.

Roy held up both hands in surrender. “I’m not. I promise,” he urged. “I overheard you order it the last few times and I took a wild guess of what you might like today,” he joked.

“I’m kidding, Roy,” she laughed, patting his shoulder playfully. Her smile reached her eyes as she grinned at him. “Listen...” Riza turned to look outside to where her dog was waiting patiently for her. “I’m going to take a walk to the park with Hayate on my lunch break. Do you want to come?”

“Yeah, of course!” He was ecstatic. She’d offered him the chance to accompany her and he wasn’t going to turn it down. Riza eyed him for a second, clearly amused by his enthusiasm, but Roy didn't care. His headache was very quickly dissipating and his mood was rising exponentially. He hadn’t even realized he’d forgotten about his doughnut.

So, the two of them walked to the park with Hayate, each sipping at their hot drinks. They crossed over the street into the shade. Every so often there would be a break in the buildings and the sun would pour through, turning her hair golden. Roy felt as though he was caught in a trance every time he noticed the change in colour. That was his downfall because she must have felt his eyes on her. Riza looked over and found him staring. A light dusting of pink covered the bridge of her nose and her cheeks as she looked away. He felt embarrassed for gazing at her so openly so he coughed nervously, tearing his eyes away.

“Do you always walk Hayate on your lunch break?” Roy asked.

Riza nodded. “I do. My apartment isn’t too far from my work, so I go home and pick up Hayate to let him out for a while.” She glanced down at the pup. “I don’t like leaving him home alone all day.”

“He seems to be a very well behaved dog,” Roy commented, watching Hayate sniff at the ground as they walked.

“He is. I hit the jackpot with his temperament. He’s the calmest dog I’ve ever met.”

Hayate would stray off towards something that caught his interest as they walked, but wouldn’t pull or walk too far from Riza’s side. His tongue lolled happily as he explored the world, curiously looking up at people who passed by them. Every time someone showed some interest in the dog, his tail would begin to wag.

“That’s good then,” Roy considered. “Especially if he’s home alone quite a lot.”

Riza agreed. “It certainly makes things easier. I haven’t come across him destroying anything yet while I’m at work,” she chuckled. “But I like to think that he knows better than to try a stunt like that.” She tilted her head forward, narrowing her eyes playfully at Hayate.

Hayate barked in response, walking closer to Riza’s side and remaining there.

They arrived at a crossing, so stopped as they waited for traffic to stop. Roy noticed Hayate heeled perfectly without any need for a command from Riza. Across the road, the greenery of the park stretched out before them.

“I normally take Hayate to the dog park instead of walking around the park itself,” Riza explained. “It means I can let him off the lead and not worry too much about where he will wander off to.”

“Is he a wanderer?” Roy smiled.

“Hm… He likes to explore.” Riza glanced down at her dog affectionately. “And can get a little hyperactive if he finds something really interesting. But he always comes back.”

The park was busy. Like them, there were business people sitting on benches and chatting as they enjoyed their lunches. A couple of cyclists passed by them, giving poor Hayate a fright. He jumped and scurried close to Riza’s side as they walked towards the dog park. Riza stopped in place, crouching to soothe him. She smiled kindly at her dog, explaining that it was just a bike that had given him a fright, letting out a short laugh. From her tone, it was like a mother talking to a child. It endeared Roy to her even more.

Again, he was caught staring, but this time Roy grinned at her as Riza straightened and they continued to walk.

“Poor dog,” Roy commented. Hayate still stuck close to Riza’s side as they walked, head looking around for any more potentially frightening things coming his way.

Riza shook her head fondly. “He doesn’t like cyclists.”

The dog park wasn’t too busy, but there would be plenty of dogs for Hayate to play with if he decided to venture their way. People were walking around the path inside the fenced-off area. Owners sat at the various benches spread around the park while their dogs either sat obediently by their side or running around and playing with other dogs. Riza crouched and let the Shiba off his leash, giving him a free run of the park. Anywhere he went they’d be able to see him. Riza was happy to let him go off and do his own thing.

“I normally sit for a while as Hayate runs around for a bit.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Roy agreed. It would give them time to finish their drinks. Roy didn’t have anything to eat, but he could always pick something up on the way back and eat it at his desk. It was only then that he remembered about his doughnut quest. He felt he didn’t need it now though. Talking to Riza was a better remedy than any sweet treat.

From her purse, Riza pulled out a prepacked sandwich and began to unwrap it. She glanced up at him expectantly. “Do you have anything to eat with you?”

He shook his head, lifting up his coffee cup. “This will fuel me for a little while.”

“You should still eat,” she frowned. Looking over her shoulder, Riza turned to look for something. “There’s normally a food van around the park.” She turned back to face him but looked past his shoulder, still searching. “I don’t know where it is though. That sells hot food.”

He appreciated the effort, but reassured Riza he’d be fine. “I’ll pick something up on my way back to the office.”

“Are you sure? We can walk around and look -”

“I’ll be fine, Riza. I swear,” he chuckled. His expression softened as she met his gaze. “I promise, I will eat. I may be a bachelor but I can still look after myself,” he smirked.

“Good.” Riza relaxed.

He hoped offering up some more personal information about himself would steer the conversation towards getting to know each other better. Riza had been a mystery to him for so long that he was eager to learn more. From what he already knew and had witnessed, she endeared him. Even as she ate her lunch, she took dainty bites of her sandwich and met his gaze while they spoke, but every so often she would glance away to check on Hayate.

“So, will it be a busy afternoon for you once you go back to work?”

Riza shook her head. “It’s a Friday and work can slow right down in the afternoon. However, I do have some reports due for an audit soon.” She shrugged. “It’s easy enough, just a lot of paperwork to trawl through.”

“I hear you,” Roy replied.

“Will it be a late one for you?”

Roy grimaced. “Probably. I think I’ll need more coffee later,” he laughed. “But I don’t mind too much. I get intrigued easily by cases and often fall in deep if they’re good.”

“And your co-workers don’t mind working late?”

Roy shook his head. “They’re not required to do overtime. I wouldn’t ask them too either unless they were really interested in a case, so they’re free to go whenever they want to. I’ll probably just order some take out later and eat it at the office.”

“I’m lucky then that I don’t have to work late at the office.”

“Would anyone mind if you did?”

She offered him a wry smile. “Someone is fishing,” Riza snickered.

Roy was confused by her comment, then his eyes widened. “Oh no! No, that’s not what I meant,” he stammered. “I meant, if your friends would mind if you worked late. It’s a Friday night, after all. Surely you have some big plans?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “No. I’ve got no plans this evening. I foresee a large glass of wine in my future while I sit on my couch with my dog.” She glanced back over to check on Hayate. He was busy chasing a large labrador.

“I’m surprised,” Roy replied. “I mean, that kind of night in does sound great…” He wished he had a plan like that for this weekend, but duty called. “But I would’ve thought a pretty lady like yourself would have grand plans for the weekend.”

Her cheeks turned a light pink and she dropped her gaze with a smile, observing her sandwich and picking at the wrapper. Roy grinned to himself, enjoying how beautiful the light blush looked on her cheeks.

“No grand plans,” she replied.

“Okay then… Well, what would you say to dinner sometime then?” he ventured.

She lifted an eyebrow. “So you were fishing then?”

“That’s for me to know,” Roy smirked.

“And for me to find out?”

“Come to dinner with me, and you might find out,” he quipped. He wasn’t desperate, it was an innocent offer, but he couldn’t rid himself of the jolt he’d experienced when their fingers brushed together earlier.

“Hm, that’s a lot of effort just to try and find that out,” she hummed, lifting her cup to take a sip of her latte. Riza looked at him expectantly after her light challenge.

Roy’s stomach dropped. “Lunch then?” he asked.

Riza regarded him quietly, then her expression softened. “I can’t do lunch any time soon.”

Roy’s face fell, but he nodded in understanding regardless.

“So, I guess, dinner will just have to do.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she spoke.

The widest smile spread from ear to ear across Roy’s face. “Great! I mean, great. Good. I know it’s short notice, but how about tomorrow?”

Riza cocked her head to the side in thought. “Tomorrow should be fine.”

“Where do you want to go?” Roy asked eagerly.

“Nowhere uptown,” Riza shook her head. “Anywhere else… Will be fine.”

Uptown… Roy nodded. He could do that. He didn’t particularly enjoy that side of town either. It was too fancy for his tastes, and his wallet. Simple meals were far too expensive, and after his week of dealing with rich people and their associates, Roy was more than ready to just unwind and go somewhere simple with good food.

“It’s a date.” Excitement and happiness coursed through his body.

Riza laughed quietly at his statement and glanced down at her paper cup. After a brief second, she looked back up at him with a small but entirely genuine smile on her face.

[velkynkarma]

We only have 3/10 books of the series so far ... but what do you think about a Stormlight Archive AU for the 5+ headcanons?

Oh my goodness yes if there’s one thing I am absolutely certain about it’s Brandon Sanderson novels always make great Voltron Crossover AU’s. This is  longer than 5 for sure, so I’m putting in a cut because it’s Long and I Can’t Stop Myself.

I hope all 2 people who understand this enjoy it

Highprince Alfor is one of the ten Alethi highprinces leading an assault on the Shattered Plains, alongside several others, including Highprinces Zarkon, Blaytz, and Gyrgan. Trigel is also a leading force behind her own army and the Dalterion princedom, but due to the gendred nature of Alethkar and war and combat being considered a man’s profession, she is basically the power behind the highprince’s throne but uses a male figurehead to do the actual warring.

Highprince Alfor is considered rather...unfashionable and perhaps a little scandalous for an Alethi highprince. 

Although like many of his countrymen he is brash enough to rush into battle sometimes without thinking, or considering overall strategy, he also does not fit the Alethi mold completely. He fights alongside his men despite having a shardblade and shardplate, rather than letting them be cannon fodder before he takes on the weakened enemies for the final kills. 

He’s been witnessed treating darkeyes with respect and camaraderie, even as a brightlord and a highprince. 

And perhaps most scandalous of all, there are rumors that he can read, despite it being a distinctly female skill, and that he finds interests in other female areas of study like sciences. 

As a result he’s something of a joke amongst many of the other highprinces, although he remains good friends with Blaytz, Gyrgan and Trigel. 

He and Zarkon used to be good friends and once worked together to unify a great deal of the land into modern Alethkar, but have grown apart after Alfor found Zarkon growing too bloodthirsty even for an Alethi highprince.

Alfor’s daughter, Brightlady Allura, is much like her father. 

Refusing to conform completely to Alethi practice, she does not hesitate to speak her mind about the foolishness of continuing the battle on the Shattered Plains for more than ten years. The games for the gemhearts are ridiculous in her opinion; they should strike quickly and efficiently as a full military force to actually win the battle. Her thoughts on military strategy are often disregarded, as it is not considered a female practice, although Alfor respects her intelligence when it comes to military combat considerably. 

Allura has of course mastered most feminine arts required of her as a Brightlady, including fashion, arts (though she is somewhat lacking here), sciences (her favorite), scholarship, history, music, language, writing, and logic, and she scribes for her father personally. But there are rumors that, like her father, she scandalously disregards Vorin tradition and actually trains in weapons in her spare time, behind closed doors. And not even lighteyed weapons like swords! She trains with common darkeyed things like spears! Allura maintains perfect poise and composure in public, but even so, by now the rumors surrounding House Altea make more than one person regard them like they have no head. 

When intrigue in the warcamps grows stronger and strange things begin happening, Allura begins to attract the attention of certain...otherworldly, conceptual beings. 

Realistically speaking, Allura’s Voltron powers would suggest she would be either an Edgedancer or a Truthwatcher, since either one has access to the surge of Progression, which grants healing and growth powers. Of those, Truthwatcher would probably match more, as it also grants illusion and sometimes future sight, and its spren appears like a shaft or glimmer of light. 

That said, I also adore the idea of Allura being a Bondsmith because can you just fucking imagine her bonding the Stormfather, forming spiritual connections with others, literally doing what she does in canon by bonding large groups into a cohesive whole for one united purpose, and also fucking refueling everyone with Stormlight/Quintessence when they’re on empty like the badass woman she is.

Like seriously just look at the bondsmith ideals. “I will unite instead of divide. I will bring men together.” “I will take responsibility for what I have done. If I must fall, I will rise each time a better man.” Allura as bondsmith, yes plz.

I like to reforge a little of a story when I do these AU crossovers but honestly, Kaladin’s story is a near perfect match for what I’d do with Shiro, anyway. 

Shiro originally joins the army so he has opportunity to leave his little farming village. Although most assume his Calling is that of a soldier, which is a perfectly respectable male Calling, what he actually wants to do is explore and see the world beyond his village. Joining the army will let him see other places and earn enough spheres to travel on his own once his enlistment is up. 

Unfortunately he is captured in a border skirmish and through increasing bouts of bad luck, ends up as a slave in House Daibazaal’s army. Bridge FourFivebecauseofthelionsgetit is not a great place to be and most people end up as canon fodder during the battles for the gemhearts.

Despite things looking really, really bad, Shiro is still determined to get out of this situation. Alive. With as many people as possible. Running is no good; the soldiers keep a good eye on the slaves. Nobody gives a damn about them; they’re just bridge slaves destined to be used as bait during the gemheart strikes. But Shiro has a way about him of encouraging people to do their best. He looks out for his fellow bridge crew even if they don’t care much about him in return, at first. People just feel like they can live through something if he’s leading them. They trust him. More and more slaves rally to his call and listen to his orders. They start calling him their Champion. Not everyone makes it every time, but more survive than anticipated. A sense of camaraderie starts to form. And even though it would be really easy to give up and abandon them all, or just stop caring every time somebody dies, Shiro doesn’t let himself.

Because of his actions, Shiro starts attracting honorspren, and eventually bonds to one. Because Shiro needs to fly, damn it, and I can’t see him being a Skybreaker; they’re a little too Law and Order levels of paladin. Shiro is definitely a Windrunner. Just look at those oaths! “I will protect those who cannot protect themselves” is literally what he does in canon against Myzax. “I will protect even those I hate, so long as it is right.” Shiro’s done this too in canon; he’s worked with people who had previously been enemies or protected characters that have clearly irritated him.

Keith is originally an orphan who ended up joining the army mostly so he wouldn’t starve to death. He originally is recruited as a page/runner, but in a particularly bad border skirmish he ends up getting put on the front lines, despite having very little training with spears. 

(He does actually have some weapons training, with swords and knives, but he’s a darkeyes, so nobody is supposed to know that. ‘Don’t tell anyone you know how to do this,’ his mother and father repeatedly told him, while he was still alive. ‘They will wonder what rules you broke and you will get in trouble. Don’t ever trust a lighteyes). 

Keith is positive he’s going to die that day, but Shiro actually saves his life on the battlefield. Afterwards, Shiro looks out for him for the six months or so they’re both in the same army together. It’s the first time anybody has ever cared about Keith at all since his parents died and he grows incredibly loyal to Shiro because of it.

When Shiro is captured Keith is devastated and basically tries to go AWOL. He’s caught and reprimanded repeatedly but keeps trying to run, until he’s eventually stripped of rank and cast into slavery. He’s a rebellious slave even then, constantly trying to run, and not worth the time of most slavers, so he eventually gets shipped out to the Shattered Plains where he won’t be able to escape and will probably die as fodder anyway

This ends up working out well for Keith, as he ends up stuck in Bridge Five where the lowest of the low slaves go, and finds Shiro again. He’s immediately OK with it. Bridge Five is awful but he trusts Shiro and he’ll do whatever is needed to support him. Keith is one of Shiro’s first real supporters on Bridge Five and the one that not-so-subtly encourages/forces others to listen to Shiro as well, or at least tries. Shiro usually tells him to back off a little because a team can’t be forced. But others do see that loyalty and that protection and learn to trust Shiro in part because they observe Keith.

Keith also has a secret he hasn’t even told Shiro, at least not right away: Keith owns a Shardblade. It used to be his mother’s (again, very strange for a woman), but when she disappeared the blade was left behind, bond broken. His father took it up, but made Keith promise to bond it and showed him how, in the event that his father died. Keith did as ordered when his father died, hiding the blade away inside his soul before any lighteyes could take it, but he’s very careful to never, ever reveal that he has one. 

Keith doesn’t trust lighteyes at all and is extremely suspicious of them

He actually is the first to recognize the strange things happening around Shiro may, just maybe, be because of Surgebinding. His mother used to tell stories, whenever she showed him her knife, of the Knights Radiant and the old powers they had. He thought they were just stories, but when Shiro starts unconsciously doing these things, he tells Shiro about the knife and starts trying to help him figure out what’s going on.

Once Shiro’s ideals and his strength with his honorspren gets strong enough that the rest of Bridge Five starts developing Windrunner squires in his presence, Keith struggles to come to terms with the fact that he appears untouched by Shiro’s abilities. An Honorspren is a lot to live up to and Keith is afraid he can’t do it. Especially when, as time passes, every time he summons his shardblade he swears he hears screaming...

I would love it if Keith actually gets a similar storyline to Adolin instead, wherein he actually starts to awaken the spren in his inherited shardblade and bonds with whatever type that is instead. Because the knife feels like an extension of him and a partner. It’s the reason other honorspren wouldn’t try to bond with him, though, and the reason he can’t inherit Shiro’s powers when around him. (This would also be a nod to Keith struggling to live up to Shiro as a leader and forming his own way of doing things in canon)

Lance also inadvertently ends up on Bridge Five

Like many lowborn darkeyes, Lance had romantic dreams of going to battle, defeating a shardbearer, and getting to rise to nobility as he became a lighteyes through the shard bond. He planned to take good care of his family after that and never have to work a farm again. So he joins House Daibazaal’s army, for his region.

This didn’t work out out in practice as it turns out shardbearers are terrifying on the field and nobody in their right mind could ever take one down. Lance is suddenly brought to terms with his own morality and tries to desert. Unfortunately he gets caught and ends up as a slave on the Shattered Plains, shunted into Bridge Five. Where people go to die, basically, so he’s terrified.

That’s when he meets Shiro, who he looks up to almost right away. Because Shiro is just good at taking care of everyone on Bridge Five, and makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could live through this and see his family again.

That’s also when he meets Keith who he hates because what is this guy’s deal he’s a jerk. (But they do eventually learn to get along)

Lance is forced to come to grips with his own initial cowardice and he initially hates himself for it. He resolves to be stronger and do better, especially with a role model like Shiro to look up to. Even if they’re in the absolute pit of humanity they don’t have to act like it. They can still do their best. He’s also a little jealous of Keith at first, who never seems to be scared of anything even down here as a bridge slave, which sparks his rivalry with him to start. 

When Shiro starts developing powers and the rest of Bridge Five starts inheriting dregs of them as squires, Lance is also seemingly incapable of getting those powers. It’s actually one of the ways he manages to bond better with Keith, when they both commiserate over being unable to do what Shiro can even though they’re both trying so hard in their own ways.

In actuality Lance is just destined to bond with a different kind of spren, but he has to realize who he really is first and what his Ideals actually are before he can recognize that or be recognized by a spren in turn. 

I kind of like the idea of him being an Edgedancer, but Willshapers are described as having a “love of adventure, novelty, or oddity" and that they are "capricious, frustrating, and unreliable,” which could also match Lance. Although it’s hard to say since we haven’t seen their powers in action yet soooo...maybe it wouldn’t be a good match.

Pidge is another one that has a lot of parallels to Shallan to the point when half the story is going to be the same despite my best efforts, really

Pidge used to be a dutiful daughter and acted as the scribe for her father and brother, who did a lot of exploration and traveling work. However they mysteriously disappear in one of the cities, at the same time a lot of other people start to go missing

Pidge, alarmed but suspicious, starts doing more research and starts finding some frightening details that are curiously relevant between the disappearances and some terrifying lore from old stories.

No one believes her but she is convinced that a lot of weird things happening indicate some seriously dangerous turn of events with some very dark and evil beings. She even begins to suspect the battle at the Shattered Plains might not be what it seems; in fact, it might be a distraction from the real purpose. 

She determines to head for the Shattered Plains. That seems to be the heart of everything, based on her research. One way or another, going there will help her find her brother and father again, and she can warn people there that dangerous things are coming. 

People aren’t willing to believe her (or her newfound friend, Hunk) when she goes there at first, especially because she’s lowborn. However, Brightlady Allura takes a keen interest in what she has to say and gives her a place to stay, and Highprince Alfor takes her seriously. 

While digging into the darker things and researching into some very unsettling information, Pidge attracts the wrong sort of crowd with the Ghostbloods. 

She also attracts a spren of her own, and honestly I can’t see her being anything other than a Lightweaver like Shallan, because c’mon. Illusions? The ability to restructure things into other things? Pidge spends half her time in canon pretending to be somebody else, sneaking around, and messing around with science. This is absolutely up her alley. Lightweaving also commonly gifts an extraordinary memory or aptitude for precise details, which Pidge has displayed in spades.

Hunk has always had an interest in distinctly ‘female’ skills and pursuits, like cooking, sciences, and general academia, while he never shown particular interest in more masculine pursuits, like politics or combat. As such, Hunk eventually choses to join the Ardentia, which traditionally grants its members a genderless position in society and the right to pursue skills traditional to both genders.

Hunk isn’t actually all that religious--he just really wanted to learn cooking (and to be able to try sweet female foods as much as spicy male foods), and to study sciences. He also enjoys reading and writing and just learning in general.

Hunk is originally content just working at the temples and getting to learn cooking and to study to his heart’s content in his spare time. It’s a nice, safe, easy life and he gets to enjoy it. 

Unfortunately once a young woman named Pidge starts entering the temples asking some very dangerous, on-the-edge-of-blasphemy questions about the Unmade and general theological debate, and insinuating some dangerous things about the war in the Shattered Plains, things start to get less comfortable.

Despite everything Hunk can see Pidge has some good points. She’s sharp, good at logic and makes for decent conversation about all sorts of topics. Her arguments aren’t unfounded even if they are uncomfortable. When she points out that this could be dangerous for all of Roshar, including his family and anyone he might ever care about, he grudgingly agrees to help her try to make her case. So he travels to the Shattered Plains with her.

Once on the Shattered Plains he ends up becoming an ardent specifically tied to House Altea, so he’s under their protection, since some of the edge-of-blasphemy questions he asks (or supports Pidge on) get him in a bit of trouble with the order. It’s okay though, everyone else here is so scandalous or unconventional he feels like he fits right in.

The full team does eventually meet up in the middle of a battle and Bridge Five does eventually join House Altea, though I have no idea under what circumstances. It’s honestly hard to top Kaladin’s rescue in The Way of Kings. 

Ask me for AU Headcanons!

[wandering-bitch]

Annotations on Falling in Love with Love (Again)

FiLwL(A) is my 3zun cinderella which is actually just about the importance of qin su and also reuniting with your exes. Here’s my behind the scenes/notes/lore for chapters 9-11. 

ch 9: nie mingjue being hot

i wrote this before i’d even written the Murder in ch 6;;;;; i just love nie mingjue

i so deeply believe in nie mingjue being smart and able to see through meng yao because he’s straightforward and strategic. 

“hmm” i said to myself. “how do i write the bois getting together??” after much thought i decided on “by stabbing one of them a bunch”

bits of this are still funny to me. rip meng yao sometimes you gotta be up close and personal with a hot dude’s bare sweaty chest 

also my version of “romantic and sensual” is just “doing math and deciding yeah, against your better judgement, you’re gonna smooch” because i love an overthinking murder twink

“on the bright side, the late-night guest was not jin guangshan’s type. unfortunately he was exactly meng yao’s type: nie mingjue” i can’t believe i let myself write this, bc it feels way too modern, but also the tone of this fic is just sarcastic enough that modern grouchy shit works 

ever since i discovered that camel was a delicacy in tang china i became OBSESSED with it. i nearly included it in ‘i have always loved the door’ and it makes an appearance in ‘blood in the cut’

the guan reappears!! or at least is mentioned.in case u forgot it from chapter 1 it is Definitely Not A Glass Slipper Or Anything

“i love ruining a twink’s life” i said in the author’s notes. i was not lying. my hobbies are making nie mingjue look cool and making jin guangyao suffer.

“xichen was disappointed when he didn’t see you there” “and you of course, weren’t” “on the contrary i was happy to see you” is one of the exchanges that was like. core to this fic. similar to “i met someone” “i don’t know what you want me to say to that” “neither do i”

when outlining fics i tend to include some key dialogue/exchanges that strike me as the Mood TM and half the time these exchanges go through incredible rewrites or just get deleted, but it’s always nice to see them survive

the xiangqi was so much fun to write, not bc i have played the game a bunch (i haven’t) but bc it gave me a fun way to talk about the conversation without talking about the conversation.

“a controlled leak qould have been very useful” makes me so happy it’s such a MOOD and nie mingjue immediately going heart-eyes over it is complete wish fulfillment. when will a hot sword lesbian be enamored over my ruthless scheming???? im taking sword lesbian gf applications over in my ask box

“But it hadn’t been easy” this paragraph originally included “Nie Mingjue had broadened his moral compass, and Meng Yao had learned to trust” or something but i couldn’t  really figure out how meng yao would describe his own personal growth since he left qinghe. like he DID grow he DID learn that he can trust the people he loves to trust him and that it’s worth bringing people in on your schemes and plans.... but he’s too dumb to describe this. 

the xiyao troll’s comment on this was “LMFAO that oocness from both meng yao and nmj where nmj is suddenly JGY levels of cunning and JGY is dumb enough to make mistakes XD”

this has stuck with me so hard

how do you read Falling in Love with Love and only discover after 16k words that i think meng yao makes mistakes?????

how do u consume any adaptation of mdzs and think that nmj isn’t smart enough to go “huh that cunning twink who is absolutely mooning over me and xichen and also plays weiqi like my old buddy seems REAL FUCKING FAMILIAR” nmj canonically sees thru jgy machinations all the time

anyway i love nmj and the xiyao troll

did you know there’s an exchange to celebrate the troll’s works??? i discovered it after signups closed but im going to enjoy reading all of them

ch 10: and with very little trouble

this took me like a month to write oops but that’s just because a lot has to happen

the opening where meng yao is being mean to qin su was so hard to write. meng yao getting overworked?? fine. meng yao getting abused??? cool. meng yao being slightly short with his sister, who is in no way hurt by this bc she can tell it’s not about her??? HORRIBLE!!!

the detective scene happened. there’s not a lot to say about it, i don’t think, except to note that han meilin did try to stand up for qin su

ch 11: impossible things are happening every day

cinderella time mother fuckers!!! this is another one that took time!!

ch 10 took time bc i wasn’t 100% sure how it would play out

this took time bc even though i knew exactly what would happen and how, it has to be Real Good, y’know? it’s tying up the entire fic. if these 2k words don’t work, then the rest of the fic will feel less good and ppl won’t come back to it

(please everyone come back to this over and over if only to laugh at my obvious qin su agenda)

qin su and meng yao fighting over who gets to take the fall for their joint murder. i love them.

i wasn’t planning for this fic to start the sunshot campaign but here we are. in the war. 

How did this version of the sunshot campaign go? Well. not good. because someone has no reason to invent necromancy. But not as poorly as you’d think. Jiang Sect isn’t destroyed, and the Cloud Recesses are functional (although not at full capacity), so they have more strength on hand. Plus, Meng Yao encouraged Koi Tower to funnel money and resources into the Qin Sect, specifically so if the war started before he expected it to (whoops!!! it did!!!!), those resources would be somewhere he could encourage to fight. 

on the one hand, the sunshot campaign’s territory is divided in half by the wens. on the other hand, that means the wens are fighting on both the northern and southern border (since, again, jiang sect is still alive)

anyway i’d say it’s a more steady war, as opposed to my recollection of canon where like. everyone’s fucking miserable until our sexy goth boi comes out with his corpses and wrecks shop. 

then han meilin and qin su look at their families and say “if you do not let us marry right now in a way that combines our sects equally...... we will just do it anyway.” 

(meng yao in the background, holding a thin knife: fucking try me. try me. i want you to be mean to my sister just so i can stab you with my knives.)

anyway it’s time for the epilogue where meng yao is vice general and there is no more wen sect

(have i thought about the dafan wens in this ‘verse? no. i probably should not, either, as wwx would be less ride-or-die for them and that means maybe wen qing and wen ning would die in a war camp)

never mind!!! happy thoughts only!!!! like how qin su and meng yao are getting ready to kill again bc they are the bi crime sibling club!!!! 

jin zixuan is invited to family brunch but he’s never invited to bi crime sibling club because qin su and meng yao refuse to let him lose his innocence. 

“ge, jie, i’m married with children, i don’t have any innocence to lose--” “oh didi, precious baby, our infant brother, shining beacon of our heart...”

mo xuanyu is also forbidden from joining bi crime club. he’s too baby. 

they do discover other jin bastards and invite them to lunch and sure, there might eventually be another bi criminal.

3zun visits each other in 2 month chunks, with one to two month breaks as needed. so the epilogue is the beginning of 2 months hanging out in meng yao’s house, and then later in the year they’ll hang out in the cloud recesses or whatever

qin su and meng yao both have secret lists of places to acquire babies for each other. han meilin knows about both of these lists and laughs every time she sees the same orphanages on both lists.

the final comment from the xiyao troll on this was: “Interesting choice to write a bland ooc AU, but I guess this is all you can manage with your writing skill. ;) This way you don't have to worry about JGY lying to Xichen for years, murdering NMJ, attempting to murder Xichen's family in the second siege, stealing secrets from the Lan sect, corrupting a healing song Xichen trusted him with, and fully betraying LXC's and NMJ's trust.”

like. yeah. of course i sidestepped the bad things. that’s what a fix-it au is for. it’s where i say “here’s an alternate universe, where certain bad things do not happen.” it’s where i say “if meng yao had always had qin su around to counteract the messaging his mother gave him, he might not have gone so far in his quest for power”. duh. 

also like kiddo, troll, friend. the pitch for this fic is “cinderella except with murder and qin su rights”. i’ve been clear from the top that this is an Indulgent Fic with No Pretenses of Quality. im proud of some sentences and passages, but this ain’t Blood In The Cut where im tryna Say something or either of my jiang cheng-centric fics where im focusing on good characterization. 

it’s a cozy murder where qin su gets to live and have a cool wife