#shifting to aurora cycle

[morningstar-chronicles]

rules - aurora cycle DR

i can't die prematurely

my loved ones can't die prematurely

no one ever gets seriously sick in a way that can't be cured

there's air in space (won't be suffocating today besties 😌💅)

space is a survivable temperature

my ship never runs out of resources

we never get lost in space

none of us can get infected

none of us can get shot

mine and my crew's wounds are always non-life threatening

i forget my script upon shifting

[halexxsam]

After Heat Ritual

tags: dewdrop/aether, mating bond, possessiveness, fluff, scenting, heat cycle

characters: dewdrop, aether, swiss, rain, phantom, mountain, cumulus, cirrus, aurora, copia, sister imperator

Words: 2456

Read it under the cut or on a03!

Aether woke up to the soft sound of Dew purring, the smaller ghoul’s head in the crook of his neck, his hair spread all around him. His mate had finally fallen asleep around 2am, his heat had hit him hard the past five days, and he had finally cooled down. Being a fire ghoul, Aether was easily able to tell when his mates' heat started and ended. 

Aether ran his hands through the long silver hair, brushing through the knots. Dew kicked up his purr, leaning into his mate’s touch. Aether chuckled, his mate could be so adorable sometimes, when he wanted to. 

“C’mon hun, I know you’re awake.” Aether poked him in the cheek, earning himself a soft growl. “I’ll get you into a nice bath, wash your hair, even make you a nice breakfast.”

Eventually, the fire ghoul crawled out of his nest and followed his mate into their bathroom. The tub was filled, steam filling the air. Dew could smell the sandalwood essence, it crept into his bones and drew him to submerge himself in the boiling water. 

Aether turned to his mate, grinning, setting the towel down on the toilet seat. “Didn’t wanna wait for me, huh?” 

Dew moved his tail from the warm bath, the spade flicking Aether in the ankle. “Alright then, enjoy your boiling bath honey. I’ll put some fresh sheets on the nest.” 

Dew grumbled out a response, before sinking farther back into the bath. Once a water ghoul, always a water ghoul. 

Eventually Dew padded out of the bathroom, his hair in two dutch braids, almost reaching his lower back. “Hi,” he muttered out, fiddling with the towel hanging around his waist. 

Aether smiled, gathering his mate in his arms. “I cleaned the nest, and I set some soft clothes out for you.” He grabbed his hand and sat him on the bed, helping his mate get dressed. Dew started to purr again, his tail wrapping around Aether’s waist, a silent thank you. 

“Pack,” Dew mumbled, pulling a shirt over his head, it was Mountain’s, he knew that because he was swimming in it. 

Aether laughed, grabbing Dew’s hand, twirling him around and picking him up. His small mate fit perfectly in his arms, his legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck, head lying on his shoulder. 

He left the ghoul dormitories and headed to their den, a big blanket draped over him, almost entirely covering Dew from anyone’s view. Which was good, because his stubborn mate refused to put on his mask after his heat. 

Opening the door to the den, Aether could see almost his entire pack. It was Sunday, the one day a week where the ghoul’s weren't expected to do anything for the Ministry. Even the siblings were told to avoid the dormitory, along with the lake and the greenhouse. However, that never stopped few from straying, trying to catch a glimpse of the ghouls in their devilish state.

Swiss was lying on the couch, his feet on Rain’s lap, both of which were watching some documentary on the TV. Mountain was sitting in the love seat, a book in his hands. Phantom was sitting on the floor, his head right up against Swiss’ side, a controller in his hands as he played Mario Kart. Aether could hear the girls in the kitchen, probably making them some food. 

“There he is!” Swiss exclaimed, his hand running through Phantom’s hair. Dew gave a small chirp in response. 

“Hi Dewy,” Rain said, shifting slightly to try and get a peak at the fire ghoul from under his blanket. He watched him shift in Aether’s arm, murmuring something he couldn’t quite pick up. 

“He wants you, Rain. That alright?” He asked, stepping closer to the water ghoul. Rain nodded, shoving Swiss’ feet off his lap, earning himself a soft growl from the multi-ghoul. Rain smacked him on the leg with the tip of his tail. 

Aether all but dropped his mate on the water ghoul, Dew quickly straddling him and burying his face into their neck. Rain cooed, his hand coming up to grasp the scruff of his neck. Dew melted a bit more, a soft trill coming from him as he settled. 

Aether made his way over to Mountain, claiming the spot next to him. The earth ghoul smiled softly, settling his book down and pulling the other ghouls feet into his lap. Aether let out a pleased sigh. He loved helping his mate with his heat, but being surrounded by his whole pack again was nice. He didn’t have to be the only one on guard anymore, knowing he could trust his pack to watch over his mate. 

Almost like Mountain knew what he was thinking, he patted his leg to grab his attention. Aether gave a soft sound in reply, his eyes already feeling heavy. 

“We’ve got him, Aeth. We’re all here, nothin’s gonna happen to him.” Aether growled softly, his instincts still driving him to protect his mate, but he was so tired, and being surrounded by his pack, in their den, it was hard to keep his eyes open. Mountain tsked, pulling on his element and letting a bit of lavender permeate through the air. 

Aether was out like a light after that. 

The girls came out of the kitchen with handfuls of food, settling them down on the table. A closer look revealed it was all of Dew’s favorites after his heat. Cumulus pulled Dew off Rain and held him in her lap, all the girls hand-feeding him food. 

A knock from the den door stopped them, everyone’s hackles raised, Mountain letting out a low growl. With Aether asleep, it was up to him to protect their den. Reaching the door, he recognized the scent of the person on the other side, letting out a soft trill to alert his pack that everything was okay. 

“My Ghoul, is now a bad time?” Copia asked, standing still at the entryway, dressed in casual clothes, no paint on his face. 

“Um,” Mountain said, turning his head to his pack, watching how they reacted, “Yeah, yeah, come on in. Aeth is asleep, Dew is with the girls.” 

Swiss had come up behind Mountain, he was unglamored, and reached out to grab his Papa by the waist, his tail wrapping around him. 

“Hi Papa,” Swiss said, pulling him closer, leaning in to him, a pleased chirp coming from the ghoul. He went and sat back down next to Rain.

“I showered and put on a fresh set of clothes, dear. I learned from last time.” He laughed, gaining happy trills from the rest of the pack. 

“How’s my Dewdrop doing?” Copia asked, coming over to him, putting a hand on his back, rubbing slightly. 

Dew chirped, removing his head from Cirrus’ neck. “Papa.” 

“I’m here, love. You know I’d always come and check on you,” He murmured. “Can I do anything for you?” 

Aether started to stir, the scent of a human, even his Papa, was able to pull him out of his sleep, his instincts still high. 

“Um, Papa, I need you to come over here to me, quickly.” Mountain said, not taking his eyes off Aether. “Now.” 

Copia stepped away from Dew, making his way over to Mountain, watching Aether open his eyes, his fingers already sparking some of his quintessence. Copia’s eyes widened when he heard a low, dominant growl come from behind him. 

He froze, knowing all too well that it was Aether. He watched as Swiss came over to him, grabbing his wrists and rubbing them against his cheeks, and even nuzzling his neck. He realized that it was Swiss’ way of covering him in his scent as to ease Aether. 

“Aether, it's just Papa, here to see you and Dew,” Rain said, looking at Aether from the other couch. It didn’t make his growl stop, but it did get quieter, Rain being the most soothing of the ghouls. 

“Dew,” Aether growled, trying to get away from Mountain. 

Upon hearing his mate’s voice, the fire ghoul jumped away from Cirrus and crawled into his mate’s arms, purring just enough for his mate to hear. Breathing in his mate’s scent, Aether saw that he was fine and they were surrounded by their pack in their den. It took him a minute, arms wrapped tightly around the fire ghoul before his eyes cleared, returning to their normal state. 

“I-I’m sorry, Papa. I didn’t mean to–” Aether started, embarrassed that he let himself act like that towards his leader, and ashamed he didn’t have more trust in his pack. 

“Sh, it’s alright. I might not know all about how you all interact and such, but I do know Dew just went through a vulnerable week, your behavior is understandable.” He said, staying next to Mountain. “I can come back if that would be better for you.” 

Dew made an unhappy noise, cutting his purring short. Aether couldn’t have that. Dew didn’t purr often, not even with just the two of them. He would do anything to keep hearing it. 

“No, stay. You’re also pack, I’m sorry about my response.” He said, rubbing his hands up and down Dew’s back. Settling down again, Dew started a soft purr. 

Copia came to sit on the couch, Swiss having moved down to the floor to join Phantom in his video game. Rain grinned at his Papa before throwing his legs over his lap. Copia put his hands on the ghoul’s leg, a calming, grounding touch. Rain started to let out a happy trill. 

“What is that noise that you guys can make?” Copia asked, pointing to Aether and Dew, both purring softly. 

“We actually can make a bunch of different noises, all meaning different things.” Mountain said, pointing towards the mated pair next to him. “The sound they're making right now? That’s a purring sound.” 

“What does it mean?” He posed. “I want to learn about it, all of them.”

“Um, it's usually a sign of content, happiness. It kind of varies, not all of us do it, or do it often. It depends a lot on the situation and emotions.” 

“Interesting. So, those two. What does it mean now?” Mountain smiled at his Papa, excited to talk about this with someone who actually wanted to know about them. 

Rain laughed softly, giving Swiss a soft nudge to bring his attention to Mountain and their Papa. 

“Well, Dew just finished his heat, and he gets very cuddly afterwards with all of us. He doesn’t purr often, we rarely get to hear it. He is happy right now, still feeling euphoric from the end of his heat.” He smiled, running a hand down Dew’s back, his purr kicking up a bit. 

“Dew also goes a bit non-verbal after his heat. We all rely on the different sounds he makes to judge how he is doing.” Mountain flicked an unglamored ear towards Dew, listening for a minute. 

“He is happy right now, relaxed. Having Aether with him and being able to smell all of us, also being content, makes him feel better, safer. Lets him know that we are here to protect him if anything happens.” 

Copia nodded, smiling at the fact his ghoul was so happy at the moment. “And what about Aether? He’s purring too?” 

“Yeah he is. Aether only purrs for Dew. For mates, it’s a sign of trust, of love. It’s Dew’s way of telling Aether he appreciates him for helping him with his heat, telling him that he loves him and is thankful for him.” 

Dew made a soft noise, moving himself closer into Aether’s side. Almost showing off to Copia, Rain thought. 

Mountain stretched, leaving the couch to grab one of the sandwiches the girls made. He shoved the place towards Copia, letting him know they were there for him, too. 

“Thank you, Mountain.” Copia said, grabbing something off the plate. 

Mountain hummed, finishing his sandwich before continuing. “Aether purrs in response to Dew. Typically, it’s seen as a submissive gesture, and Aether responds in tune because he is happy that his mate is so…” Mountain stopped, not quite knowing what to say next. 

“Come on, Mounty, you can say it.” Swiss laughed, knowing what he was planning to say. 

Mountain growled out in response, causing Swiss to laugh again. “He wants to say submissive, Papa. Aether is happy that Dew is submitting to him, openly, in-front of all of us.” 

Copia blushed, looking anywhere but Mountain and the mated ghoul’s. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. It also is a calming gesture. Aether’s purr makes Dew feel safe and happy. Knowing that everything is okay.” 

“That’s actually really sweet. My sweet little ghouls.” Copia said, looking over all of them. “Do you all purr, then?”

“We actually all can, it's just a matter of choice.” Cumulus starts, “The only one out of us who doesn’t like to purr is Cirrus, actually.” 

Copia turned his head to her, a questioning look on his face. She just shrugged back in response, a smile on her lips. 

Copia laughed a bit, relaxing into the couch. Phantom and Swiss stopped their video games, Aether’s quintessence having slipped into the air making them tired, wanting the touch of their packmates. 

Copia watched as Dew eventually began to stir, making new noises he was sure would be explained to him. He watched as all the ghouls sat up a bit straighter, Mountain’s eyes tracked to the door of the den. Copia watched silently. 

He watched Dew pull away from Aether and scan the den, smiling when he noticed everyone was here. He watched as the pack, one by one, made their way over to Dew. He watched as everyone of them trailed their hands over Dew, marking their scent on him, as well as marking his on them. He heard them chirp and trill, relishing in the touch of every other. 

He thinks back to when he became Papa, remembering the speech Sister Imperator gave him about commanding the ghouls, and having to do so with an iron fist. 

“These are hellish demons, never to be mistaken for anything else. They can glamor themselves and act human, yes, but they are demons, never forget that. They will be loyal to you, not because they want to, but because they must.” 

But sitting with his ghouls, watching them as they checked over one of their own, the ways in which they all took care of each other…Copia knew that Sister had the ghouls all wrong. They were demons from hell, yes, but they were also sweet beings. Copia knew then and there that he would do anything to keep his ghouls from being sent back to the pit.

[lonewolfinthetardis]

Wait what's that? Oh that's right, I'm also a Ghost blog!

My Ghoul headcanons! With a few I've picked up from other posts. Also, spot the Avatar (James Cameron) inspired hcs. Basic hcs

Ghouls are pack creatures. They love being together, whether it's laying around together in a Ghoul Pile, playing games, or just doing tasks around the ministry.

Packs seem like giant polycules to outsiders, but they're much more complicated than that.

The Ghouls love teasing the Siblings of Sin.

They're extremely loyal to their Papa.

When on tour, they will wear enchanted amulets that shift their appearance to appear human. This has been named "glamour".

Sometimes packs will sleep in "piles". This is usually to keep bonds strong or simply for comfort.

Ghouls mate for life, partners basically bond their life forces together.

Ghouls can mate and bond with more than one individual. This can include other ghouls and humans. Biology hcs

All Ghouls have varying shades of grey skin and spaded tails (although Water Ghouls normally have fins on their tails). They also have claws on both their hands and feet, toe pads, horns, rough forked tongues, and sharp teeth.

Their tails and ears are very expressive.

Their tails are prehensile.

Water Ghouls have "ripple" or "water like" markings, usually a shade of grey darker than their skin. They also have webbed hands and feet, finned ears, and gills.

Ghouls have a superb sense of smell, sight, and hearing. Each Ghoul has their own specific scent, that all other Ghouls can smell and recognise them by. They will also memorise smells from their favourite humans (this can include human mates).

Packmates are connected to each other via telepathy. They can tap into each other's emotions, and can talk to each other through this strong connection.

Their eyes glow in the dark. They usually have a slight glow normally, but at night they're pretty bright.

Each Ghoul can tap into the magic connected to their element, or elements.

All Ghouls have a thin layer of fur on their chest, back, biceps, and down their backs to their tail.

They all go through a type of cycle, no matter their gender.

During the colder months, the thin layer of fur they have will grow thicker. It's very soft and fluffy, but dense. Although Quintessence and Air Ghouls have a thicker coat of fur all year long. Air Ghouls have the softest fur, almost cloud like in a way. While Quintessence Ghouls have coarse, stiff fur. Ghoul Scents (Prequelle and Impera Ghouls, including my OC)

Dewdrop: Wood smoke

Aether: A soft, pleasant incense. One that doesn't tickle your nose or cause you to cough

Rain: Petrichor

Swiss: Crushed rosemary

Mountain: He smells like a greenhouse: That delicous wet warmth smell

Glacier (my OC): A warm, windy day with a hint of orange

Cirrus: Ozone

Cumulus: A cold morning wind

Sunshine: Eucalyptus

Aurora: A sea breeze

Phantom: Slightly like sweet beeswax

Teeth hcs (featuring art by me)

Water Ghouls have backwards facing serrations on their fangs, making it extremely difficult for prey to escape. This is also why they don't tend to bite their partners or pack mates.

Earth Ghoul teeth are the most similar to human teeth, the main difference being their overall strength and much longer fangs.

Fire Ghoul teeth have long fangs with sharp teeth on either side of them.

Air Ghoul teeth have a lupine appearance, with sharp incisors and sharp first molars.

Quintessence Ghouls have very sharp, strong teeth that have a sort of "classic monter" look.

Multi Ghoul teeth are a mix of the elements they are connected to (symbols are a mix of all their elemental symbols).

----------- So this is my Ghoul hc master post! I'll most likely create a post about my individual Ghoul headcanons at some point. I'll also be talking about my GhostxTF2 crossover at some point!

[dawn-iscozy]

“ like a cat in a sunny spot ” ♡ v ♡

SERIES PLAYLIST: “ swim ” - chase atlantic ♡ “ honey (are u coming?) ” - maneskin ♡ “ the summoning  ” - sleep token ♡ “ soft spot ” - keshi ♡ “ bubbly ” - colbie caillat ♡ “ kiss me ” - ed sheeran ♡ “ cotton candy ” - yungblud ♡

SERIES WARNINGS: poly, eventual ot8, named oc - “Rora”, derived from “Aurora” (soooooo original, I know), who is basically a self-insert (i’m still on the brink of denial about it). loooots of nicknames/pet names, and even more as the fic progresses (if you read the “a little warmth in winter” you’ll know most of the names already 🤭). things move pretty quickly in this, and it may stray vaguely into soulmate au territory but, like, I’m a sucker for these men and for the way I’ve written them and I just can’t stop.

apologies in advance if the timeline doesn’t make any sense, I’m going purely on vibes and my affection for these 8 men. idk if it deserves a warning, but scents are mentioned a lot in some parts and kinda littered through the rest of the fic, too (using scent profiles from a perfume/fragrance site that has a line of scents called “Smells Like a Hug From Ateez” and very limited knowledge of fragrances the members may have previously used/just the vibes they give off)

WORD COUNT: 7.9k

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS:  period/menstrual cycle, mention of blood, gets a little steamy (what's new atp), but doesn’t get far, food, hurt/comfort-ish??

♡ 18+ - no smut, but still MDNI ♡

v: teddy bear

After such an amazing weekend, Rora should have expected something less than desirable to happen soon. Though, she didn’t think it would be immediately the next day. The second she woke to her alarm at 5:30, she knew it would be a rough day. Her eyes refused to stay open, her back and hips were hurting, and there was a big red stain in her favorite sleep pants. Luckily, a simple soak while she took her morning shower was enough to get most of the stain out, and she had enough laundry to justify starting a load. 

Too frustrated with the way her morning had started and frankly, too tired, she didn’t even think to stop at a convenience store or coffee shop for a caffeine pick-me-up. But as soon as she got to work, she made a beeline for the break room and started a cup of coffee in hopes that the caffeine would wake her up and the warmth would ease her cramps. As the blessed brew was dripping, she couldn’t help but look around, eyes going almost immediately to a desk just a few down from her own. 

Jongho was already there, leaned back in his chair but obviously absorbed in whatever was on his laptop, the sleeves of his button-up shirt and cardigan pushed up his forearms. He looked so cozy, even in the sterile surroundings of the office, and she wanted nothing more than to go back to just yesterday, leaning against him on his sofa, the sounds of laughter and rain ringing through the living room. She wondered if he would let her do that again, if he would let her bask in the solid warmth of his frame or if it had just been a fluke. If, somehow, it only happened because he was humoring the situation. 

She sighed, gaze shifting to watch the steady drip of the coffee into her designated cup. Whatever it was, she couldn’t focus on it. Not if she wanted to make it through the day without crying. She rolled her eyes to herself, leaning against the counter as just the thought of crying was causing tears to prick behind her rapidly blinking eyelids. She forced her mind to go blank, to think only of the work she was about to do, and sighed with relief when the coffee machine beeped to signify the completion of her coffee. 

Grasping the mug with both hands, she walked over to her desk. She took one deep inhale, letting the smell cloud her senses, and gave a determined huff. She would make it through all the work she needed to finish by lunch, and then maybe she would get a much needed 20-30 minute power nap during her break. 

♡♡♡

She didn’t finish all the work she had wanted to finish. The coffee did nothing for her fatigue, only serving to make her jittery and unfocused, eyes fighting to close. That jitteriness led to distracted-ness, which led to her heavy eyes constantly shifting from her screen to peep at Jongho’s desk. He seemed to be working steadily, looking as professional and unbothered as ever each time she glanced over. Which was much more often than she would like to admit. 

She sighed, and her eyes shifted from her screen at the thought. Vision unfocused, brain blank, she zoned out. It was almost time for lunch. Almost time for that nap or some more caffeine. But fuck if it felt like she wouldn’t be able to make it until then, just so damn ready to go back home and curl up in bed with sweet little Teddy.

Fingers pushing through her hair, brows furrowing, she blinked the world back into focus. Her heart stopped in her chest when her eyes locked with a certain brown pair, face warming as she registered the raised brow and quirked lips. 

Her heart kicked in her chest, and she looked back to her screen. Forcing herself to focus on her work, if only for the last fifteen minutes before her lunch break. She let herself get lost in it, in reading and editing and commenting on the passages before her, pulse still thrumming away in her ears at being caught. She was so focused on making herself focus that when a hand fell on her shoulder, she startled, eyes wide and shoulders hitched nearly to her ears as she swiveled around in her chair. 

A low chuckle sounded, and she looked up to see Jongho there. His lips were spread in a dazzling smile that brought an unconscious smile to her own face, even as her heart rate was still tripping over itself from the scare and the reminder of being caught staring at him earlier. She had to pause and just blink, just stare at him for a moment, take in just how adorable his gummy smile was. 

“Finish up, and let’s go to lunch,” he said before she could come back to herself. 

“What?” She blinked at the bluntness of his statement, brain still catching up to the situation she was now in. She cleared her throat, shook her head, and she was glad that he stayed quiet and let her process what was going on.  “Oh. Where?”

“I believe I promised to take you to a certain cafe this afternoon.”

Her brows furrowed, and she wracked her brain for what he was talking about. It took an embarrassing amount of time, cheeks warming under his patient gaze. “Oh!” she exclaimed, sitting straighter in her seat, hands clasped in front of her like she might start clapping. “Yunho’s cafe?” 

Jongho grinned. “That’s the one,” he said. “Let’s go before our break is over, hmm?” 

“Oh!” Rora set into motion, scrambling to gather the things she would need to take with her into her bag and save her work. “Let’s go!” She was practically bouncing with excitement, watching Jongho with big eyes, waiting for him to lead the way. 

Yunho really wasn’t kidding when he said it was close to where she and Jongho worked - they made it down the street and through the door in less than 10 minutes. A bell rang over her head as she pushed inside, stiffening with surprise at both the sound and a sudden warm touch at her lower back. 

A low voice greeted them before the door could even swing shut behind them, and she looked up to see Yunho busy behind the counter, a man standing beside him, seemingly having paused in the middle of wiping the countertop down. The man was roughly the same height as Yunho, roughly the same size, too, from what she could tell. She could really only see his torso and up with the counter in the way, but she could tell that he was strong. The dark button-up shirt clinging to him gave more than a modest suggestion of what may lie beneath, the apron tied tightly around his waist, showcasing just how slim it was and emphasizing the broadness of his chest and shoulders. 

A shiver ran down her spine as she imagined standing in between them, how they would absolutely engulf her with their size. She read his nametag as they got closer - Mingi. His full lips parted in a bright smile that nearly engulfed his eyes. Eyes that, even in the harsh fluorescents of the space, practically sparkled upon landing on them, the shocks of blond streaked through his brown hair seemingly making them sparkle even more.

“Jongho!” Mingi called out, his lovely, low voice once more filling the mostly empty space of the cafe. “Lovely of you to finally visit us.” 

She didn’t look back to see Jongho’s reaction, but she could practically hear his eyes rolling. Her eyes shifted over to Yunho, who straightened up upon Mingi’s words. He looked right over to her, eyes wide, brows raised, lips parted in a smile. “Rora!” 

“Rora?” she glanced over at Mingi, watching as the confusion on his face faded into an amused, knowing smile, those pretty eyes trailing over her. “Ah,” he mused. “So this is who you all were talking about last night.”

“All good things, I hope,” she said, unable to stop the heat flooding her cheeks as she shot her eyes to Yunho. He simply shrugged and gave her a shit-eating grin. Her head whipped back to glance at Jongho. “Right?” 

His face was mostly blank save for the upturn at the corners of his mouth. “Your weekend was thoroughly bragged about in the group chat,” he said, brow arching. “The other three in our group are dying to meet you.”

Her face must have dropped alongside her heart, because Jongho settled a hand on her shoulder. “Nothing that didn’t happen in the shared spaces of the apartment was brought up. Not in detail, at least. You should really reward Woo for being able to keep that to himself. Guy really has trouble not saying things he shouldn’t.” 

“Tell me about it,” she murmured, forcing the joke out. The resulting soft laughter helped her to relax, and looked back over to Yunho with a barely contained pout. 

He grinned, leaning over the counter, bare forearms flexing as he leaned his weight on them. “Since it’s been brought up, though,” he started, voice low, eyes racking over her before landing back on her face. He was suddenly serious, head tilting, soft hair falling over his forehead. His lips were still smiling, though, and she took comfort in that when her heart started thumping harder in her chest. “How comfortable are you with the more…private details being shared?”

“I’m fine with any of it being shared, I just -” she paused, swallowed, sighed. Pushing her hair behind her ear, she continued,“I just want to know that it’s going to be talked about so that I’m not caught off guard by some kind of comment, especially if it’s someone I don’t already know.” She forced out a breath, licked her dry lips. “I appreciate you asking me, Yunho.”

“Of course, honey.” The smile he sent her bordered on salacious, eyes twinkling suggestively, mischievously, as they worked over her figure again. He leaned to the side, shoulder bumping against Mingi as his gaze locked with hers once again, and a shiver worked down her spine. “Wouldn’t dream of doing anything you didn’t like.” 

“We came for food, not for you to flirt,” Jongho piped up before she could respond. He leveled her with a faux serious look. “No sneaking off behind the counter with this degenerate, you hear me?” 

Mingi burst into laughter, Yunho made an offended expression, and she giggled, pushing her elbow into Jongho’s side. “You think he’s gonna take me away from you?”

“He can try,” he said, eyes so big and serious that her heart stuttered in her chest. He was completely straight-faced, and she didn’t know what he could mean with that statement. But she did begin to feel bad, wondering if she had not given him as much attention over the weekend or if he was joking in that deadpan, straight-faced way that he does sometimes. 

“Drop the claws, baby bear,” Yunho said, chuckling. She couldn’t help but giggle at the nickname, looking over at Jongho. He really did resemble a bear - big and strong but soft. She would have to change his contact name later. “No one’s gonna take her away from you. Not during work hours, at least.” 

Then Jongho’s face broke out into that big, gummy grin that filled her with so much warmth and in a surprising move, wrapped his arms around her in a back hug and rested his chin on her shoulder. 

She breathed out in surprise, but let herself sink into his embrace. He felt solid and warm against her back, like he could easily support her if she needed him to. She looked back at him, watching as he seemingly studied the menu hanging behind the counter, as his lips parted to speak. “What do you want?” he asked, eyes still trained forward. She would think that he was being casual if she couldn’t feel his heart thundering against her back. 

She grinned, letting her head tip to the side to touch his, eyes trailing back to Yunho and Mingi. They wore twin looks of adoration, eyes warm and sparkling as they took in the embrace between her and their youngest friend. She flushed when Yunho sent her a wink and cleared her throat. “Surprise me,” she said. 

Jongho’s resulting hum vibrated against her back, and she had to work hard to contain a pout when he straightened up. She was suddenly cold without his warmth against her. Arms wrapping around her middle, she leaned against the counter, only to come face to face with Mingi. There was plenty of space between them, but she could swear she felt the warmth of his breath fanning her face, could smell the coffee lingering on his tongue, could feel his eyes trailing over her face. 

Her breath caught in her throat, tongue poking out to wet her bottom lip. 

He smiled, drawing her attention to the slight imperfection of his teeth, how they were slightly cooked, so that one looked slightly longer than the other. How he nibbled those teeth into his lower lip. She took in the thickness of his lips, the plush pink of them. Her eyes moved up his face, taking in the dimple carving into his cheek, the lovely cheekbones. Over his strong nose, right to his eyes - those big, sparkly eyes that were beginning to crescent with his smile. What is with this friend group and all of them having such pretty freaking eyes? 

 “So,” he started, head tilting to the side adorably. “You’re Rora.” 

“And you’re Mingi?” she asked, reading the tag attached to the apron laid across his chest once more. She tried to keep her gaze from lingering too long on the way the straps of his apron dug into the broadness of his shoulders or the way his dark button-up stretched tightly across the muscles of his arms and chest. Her palms were practically itching to feel that obvious swell beneath them. She cleared her throat and brought her gaze back to his.

His eyes were twinkling, crinkled into full crescents now, eyebrows raised. She flushed - of course he caught her ogling him. She never was gifted in the art of subtlety. 

“I am,” he said, voice practically rumbling in her ears. She shivered at the sound of it, wondering just how low it could go. What it would take to test that out. She blinked herself out of her thoughts before they could progress into further depravity. Clearly, Yunho wasn’t the degenerate here. She almost giggled as the thought passed through her head, blinking to bring Mingi back into focus. “Something funny?” he asked. 

She shook her head. “I just had a silly thought,” she said. 

“Oh?”

“It isn’t that funny, really,” she insisted. 

Mingi hummed, the sound reverberating in his chest, and she desperately wanted to have her head on his chest, have that sound go right into her ear. She cleared her throat, feeling the heat in her cheeks moving down her neck, to her ears. “I won’t press you on it,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

She startled when warmth was once again at her back, a chin on her shoulder, and Mingi chuckled. She glanced back to see Jongho with a devastating pout, but his eyes were warm, happy. She looked forward again, ignoring the heat filling her cheeks. 

“So, you work with Jongho?” Mingi asked, straightening up. 

She nodded. “I’ve worked with him for about a year now?” She smiled when Jongho hummed in agreement, the sound vibrating in her ears and against her back pleasantly. 

“And you know Woo, San, and Yunho?” 

She nodded again. “I’ve only known them for a few days, though.”

“Yeah, and they aren’t likely to be letting you go any time soon,” Jongho murmured. He sounded sulky, but she could hear the laughter in his voice, could feel his shoulders shaking with it. 

Mingi laughed, teeth flashing and eyes nearly closing. “Well, I hope that means that I’ll be seeing you again,” he said. 

She grinned. “I’ll definitely have to come here again,” she said, glancing over as Yunho made himself known, settling a tray of food and drinks onto the counter in front of her. “And feel free to accompany Youngie, Sannie, or Yunho if they ever visit.”

His tongue came out to swipe over his full lower lip. “Just might have to take you up on that,” he said. His eyes flicked to the man hovering over your shoulder. “Assuming the bear will let me.”

The chest pressed against her rumbled with laughter, and she glanced back at him. Her heart fluttered at his smile, all pretty teeth and pink gums and sparkly eyes. “You can have her any other time,” he said. His head turned, eyes moving over her face briefly. “Given her consent, of course.” 

“Of course,” Mingi readily agreed. 

Rora wasn’t able to do anything but grin back at the tall man, giggling. Yunho came back, sliding a tray across the counter, and Jongho detached himself from her back. She watched as he came to her side, grabbed the tray, and walked away. 

“He’s gonna start sulking if you take too long,” Yunho mused, leaning against the counter once more. Mingi mirrored him, and she flushed under their collective gaze. “You should go before he starts crying.”

Her brow quirked upward. She knew Yunho was joking, but still, she couldn’t imagine Jongho crying, especially not over her. Even so, she excused herself from the two tall men and followed him over to a table in the corner of the lobby. Windows lined the wall facing out into the street, and the two person table she found Jongho heading toward was awash in sunlight, plants hanging along the ceiling and windows, the light reaching all the way into the shop, all the way to the first bookcase full of various books. 

Jongho casually pulled a chair out, rounding the table without even a glance at her. Amused, she sat down and shrugged off her cardigan to let the warm light bathe her skin, folding the soft fabric to lay across her lap as she took a glance around. The shop seemed to continue past the front counter, wrapping around the back, and she itched to see what was back there, wondering if it was full of cozy spaces for customers to enjoy their time at their own leisure. 

“Here,” Jongho murmured, and she turned back to see Jongho sliding a drink and food her way. There was a large wrap, cut in half and containing just as much meat as veggies, wrapped tightly to keep it stuffed inside the tortilla, a bowl of cutely cut fruits, and a relatively large grapefruit ade that made her mouth water. 

As she and Jongho ate, she watched as the other customers in the shop made their way out. The bell over the door of the shop rang out only one other time, just as she was finishing up the first half of her wrap. 

Sipping her drink, she watched as Yunho and Mingi straightened behind the counter. “Hello,” they said simultaneously, Yunho trekking over to stand behind the register while Mingi disappeared through a door into what she assumed was the kitchen. Yunho smiled his big, puppy dog smile as the customer approached. “We can only do to-go orders right now, since we’re about to close for lunch. Is that okay?”

The customer simply nodded and ordered. It was less than five minutes before their order was completed and slid over the counter. “Have a wonderful day,” Mingi said to their retreating figure, trailing behind them to the door, locking it up and flipping a sign on the door. 

She sighed, feeling much too full to finish the rest of her food. It was delicious, but if she ate any more of it, she would be sleepy and uncomfortable for the rest of her time at work. Or, well, more uncomfortable than she had already been feeling. Covering the other half of her wrap up with the cling film from the eaten half, Rora dusted her hands off and stood. She murmured that she was going to the restroom and turned. 

She gasped, hands flying up, startled by the sudden appearance of Yunho right in front of her. He laughed, large hands gently grasping her own. “Sorry, honey,” he said, amused eyes trailing over her face until they landed on her pout. “Was just going to ask if you wanted to look around before you have to go back to work.”

Taking a breath to settle her still fast heartbeat, she glanced over at Jongho. He was taking a bite of his own food, watching the two of them with seeming disinterest. “We’ve got fifteen minutes before we have to leave,” he said. “I expect at least five more minutes of Rora time before we have to clock back in.”

Yunho was already tugging her away before she could say anything back. She sent him an apologetic look, feeling assured by the amusement painting his features as she stumbled to keep up with his tall friend’s much longer strides. They rounded the counter, and she tugged Yunho to a stop to get a better look. The space was definitely cozy, filled with all kinds of places to curl up and read. The back wall held lofted spaces just big enough for someone to lay down, and the floor had bean bags and a few sunken seating areas in the floor. Every inch of open wall space was lined with shelves and books. 

“Like it?” Yunho asked. 

Rora nodded, looking up at him. She knew she looked somewhere between adoring and starstruck, but that was how she felt about this space. “It’s really nice,” she said. “You both have worked so hard to make a nice place for your customers, and you can really tell.” 

Yunho beamed at the praise, arm sliding around her shoulders as he moved her further into the cozy space. “So you’ll visit again?” he asked. 

“Absolutely!” she said excitedly. “I can already see myself coming on a day off to sit up there -” she pointed toward the cozy lofted spaces “- and chilling out for a few hours.”

“Come around the time for our lunch break so we can spend a little time together,” he said, hands brushing over her shoulders and ghosting down her bare arms. 

“Oh?” Rora’s voice came out shakier than she would have liked, a shiver working down her spine and goosebumps appearing on her exposed skin.

“Mhm,” Yunho hummed, crowding her smaller frame, pressing her until she was forced to take a step. She shuffled forward, breath hitching in her throat when he pressed her against a wall. His body pressed against her back, hands sliding along her arms to press her hands against the wall. His head dipped down, lips ghosting the line of her neck, breath tickling her skin. She shivered. 

“You said you wouldn’t do anything at work,” she murmured. He chuckled, coaxing her to turn around, pressing her back against the wall, hands once again locked with her own, pressing them over her head. She looked up at him through her lashes, letting her fingers intertwine with his. 

“I said I wouldn’t do anything during work hours. But I’m on break right now,” he murmured, nosing at her ear. “Been thinking about getting you alone back here since you walked in.” 

“What if we get caught?” she asked breathlessly. 

“We better shut your fucking mouth then, hmm?” he murmured, nibbling along her jaw. His hand removed itself from her own, coming up to clasp over her mouth, stifling her resulting surprised noise, the whine bubbling up in her throat. “Stay quiet for me, honey.”

His hand slid down her belly, fingers toying with the top of her pants. Her heart was racing, breath catching in her throat with each brush against her skin. She gasped when a sudden sharp pain shot through her lower stomach, the dull ache in her back coming back to the forefront. Her hand gripped Yunho’s wrist to stop him unbuttoning her jeans, shaking her head to dislodge his hand from her mouth. “Fuck,” she breathed out, whined, face pressing into his chest as she fought against the urge to curl into herself. “Can’t. Started my period this morning.” 

Yunho took a deep breath, resting his cheek on the top of her head with a chuckle. His hands slid up her sides then back down to her hips, thumbs massaging in little circles that had her sighing. “Kisses, then?” he asked, trailing the lightest of kisses down the side of her face.

Rora giggled at the ticklish feeling, hand pushing through his hair. “I’m always down for kisses,” she said, pressing a kiss to his chest, tugging lightly at his hair so she could press another to his soft lips. He responded immediately, cupping the back of her head, kissing her over and over until her lips were swollen and she couldn’t catch her breath anymore. 

Her hands fisted his shirt when he started to pull away, and he humored her with one, two, three quick pecks before standing to his full height. 

“Sorry, honey,” he said, straightening her shirt and pushing loose strands of her hair behind her ears with a soft smile. Her eyes caught on his lips, satisfied to find them pinker than before, shiny in the light of the cafe. She wanted to whine, to bring his mouth back to hers. “The bear is gonna start getting restless. Wouldn’t want him coming to maul me, hmm?” 

She shook her head, teeth nibbling her bottom lip to distract herself, to keep herself from pouting. “You’re much too pretty to let that happen,” she said, looping her arm around his waist as he guided her back toward the lobby.

“Oh? Am I?”  

She glanced up at him as they walked, noticing that his ears were reddening and his eyes were firmly in front of him, like he couldn’t bring himself to look over at her. She laughed. “Very,” she said, watching as he swallowed and his shoulders came up, suddenly shy. Her heart fluttered at how adorable he suddenly was and couldn’t help it when she leaned closer to rub her cheek against his arm. 

He squeezed her closer in a quick side hug as they walked, and she giggled when they stumbled. Over and over, they tripped and swayed, but Yunho refused to take his arm from around her. She didn’t mind it, really, loving being in the silly moment with him. Loving having a moment like this, to be able to actually unwind even for a few minutes on her lunch break.

She looked up as they neared the table she had occupied with Jongho, and her brain blanked at the view of him. He was lounging back in the chair, thighs splayed wide enough that the fabric of his pants were pulled tight to showcase the muscles there. She wanted to curl up there and lean into his strong chest. The chest that had been pressed against her back less than half an hour ago. He was holding his phone with one hand, and she noticed how nice his hand was, fingers slender, palm big enough to comfortably hold a phone that she would struggle to hold. Her gaze traveled up his arm, to find his face blank.

Rora blinked and suddenly, he was looking up at her, face soft and those eyes big and sparkling, the sun shining like a halo behind him. He looked beautiful. Breathtaking, even, and her breath nearly caught in her chest. “All done?” he asked, locking his phone and setting it down on the table. 

“She’s all yours,” Yunho answered when she didn’t make a move to answer, chuckling at her starstruck gaze and giving her bottom a little pat as his arm slipped from her. 

She blinked, looking up at him. “Watch those hands, mister,” she murmured, glaring playfully as she elbowed him in the side. 

Yunho gently pushed her toward the seat she had occupied earlier, hands pressing into her shoulders lightly, fingers massaging the muscles there as he coaxed her to sit. She almost moaned aloud, head tipping back into the warmth of his body, eyes closing in the brief moment of bliss. When he stopped and stepped away from her, she whined.

He chuckled, bending down to kiss the top of her head. “Sorry, honey,” he murmured against her hair. “Gotta go make sure Mingi hasn’t burned down the kitchen.”

She refused to watch him walk away, letting her eyes track the drops of condensation beading up and sliding down the side of her drink. There was a puddle starting to accumulate beneath the cup. She pulled a few napkins from the holder on the table, letting the paper absorb the water fully before she looked up at Jongho. He was already looking at her, eyes roaming over her face, and she was almost more flustered at the fact that he seemed so not bothered by being caught doing so. 

“They really have taken a liking to you,” Jongho mused, lips pulling up into a soft smile. She watched his face as he spoke, watching for any change in emotion. She couldn’t really identify any specific emotions, but she took comfort in the fact that nothing negative seemed to be there. Just warmth. Endearment. Whether toward her or his friends, she wasn’t sure, and she didn’t want to dwell on that. He pushed his phone into his pocket and stood. “Ready to head back?” 

Rora simply nodded, slipping into her cardigan. She grabbed her things and her drink, following him to the door. He swung it open, holding it for her to walk through, and she couldn’t help but smile at the move. Before leaving, she paused, looking back to wave good-bye to Mingi and Yunho, who were back to mindlessly tidying up behind the counter. They called out their farewells - their smiles bright and their hands waving excitedly through the air - and she stepped outside.

The breeze hit her immediately, pushing through her hair. The sun warmed her face, and she couldn’t remember a time when she was happier. Or more conflicted. Her teeth nibbled her bottom lip, brows furrowing as she walked beside Jongho. Their arms brushed occasionally, their steps falling in sync. Tiny shocks went through her when their hands would come into contact, but she pulled her sleeves down over her hands, crossing her arms around her waist. 

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” she finally asked, grasping her cardigan to knead the soft material between her restless fingers. 

“Hmm?” He glanced over at her, finishing the sip he was taking from his drink and clearing his throat. His brows furrowed deeply, those eyes on her face even as she looked forward. “What?” he asked.

She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, and she looked down at the sidewalk as they walked, covered hands coming to clasp together in front of her belly. She floundered for words, unsure how to continue asking when what she was asking about wasn’t even clear to herself. The silence stretched as he allowed her the time and space to get her thoughts together and finish her question. 

She sighed. Deciding to just bite the bullet, Rora blurted out, “I fucked half your friend group over the weekend. Are you uncomfortable with what happened?” Her voice was strained despite how blunt her words were, and she found herself swallowing back tears, eyes and throat burning with a need to shed them. She sniffled around the tingling in her nose and she looked up, hoping that doing so would distract her enough to keep from crying. It didn’t do much, and when she spoke next, her voice trembled so badly she was surprised any words came out at all. Her shoulders slumped, the brief confidence leaving her almost entirely, and she refused to look at him. “You’re one of the only people I’ve been able to grow even remotely close to since I moved here, and I don’t want to ruin it or make you uncomfortable around me or your friends.” 

Rora startled when his hand wrapped around her own and she was pulled to a stop then back, his body against hers once more, front to front. His arms came around her, one around her waist and the other around her shoulders in a tight hold that caused her tears to spill over. He held the back of her head gently, fingers brushing over her hair, and she couldn’t help but sob into his neck.

“You need to take a breath, okay?” he soothed, low voice rumbling comfortingly in her ear. “Calm down, precious.”

Her heart jumped in her chest at the endearment, at the gentle tone of voice he used, but she found herself doing as he said. She took a deep inhale. Held it. Let it out slowly. Almost choking on the next breath when his hands came up to wipe at her tears, thumbs ghosting beneath her eyes. 

“There you go,” he murmured, pushing her hair back from her wet face. 

She looked up at him through her wet lashes, lower lip trembling. He looked so tender, so warm. She wanted nothing more than to curl up into him for the rest of the day. Forget work, forget her responsibilities, forget even herself.

Rora wrapped herself around him again, face buried in his chest, and every inch of her purred as his soft laughter filled her ears. She crumbled against him, went lax as his firm fingers kneaded at the tense muscles of her neck, and she released a shaky exhale. 

Luckily, after they made it back to work, the rest of the day passed by quickly. Though, that meant nothing about her levels of exhaustion. When she pushed into her apartment, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep. Instead, she went about her regular after work routine of showering and making a simple dinner. 

She was resting, watching a drama on the television when there was a knock on her door. Then another. And another. Then, several knocks at once. Rora pulled herself off her couch with a pained groan, cursing gravity and mother nature as she moved through her kitchen. Balancing on her tiptoes, she looked through the peephole to see three men. Or, well, the chests and shoulders of three men. Brows furrowed, she pulled the heavy door open, wincing when even such a simple move sent pain flaring up in her hips and back. 

She huffed, grumbled, swinging the door open just enough to see around the damn thing. Her grumbled curses were stopped short when she saw Jongho, San, and another man standing back against the wall of the hallway almost sheepishly, plastic bags dangling from their hands. “What -” her head tilted, eyes trailing over each of them. 

She took in the new man first, eyes immediately drawn to an almost heart-shaped spot of red beside his eye, long strands of black hair falling just so to conceal what she assumed to be a birthmark. He looked the most uncertain of the three, standing in tiny, just the slightest bit behind San even as they were standing along the wall, his form almost hidden in a large fluffy jacket. He reminded her of a kid that was dragged to a strange new place by a parent, and she wanted to coo and squish his cheeks until that scared look left his face. 

Rora’s gaze moved over to San, who was standing in the middle, dimples on full display and practically bouncing on his toes. Dressed in sweats and a zip-up hoodie that should have been oversized, but clung to his arms and chest even as the pieces of clothing fell loose around his waist and hips, opened just the slightest bit at his throat to showcase a white top underneath. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. Never let go. 

Jongho stood there, looking calm as ever. Looking even cozier in a pair of black pants and a large sweater that she wanted to steal and drown herself in. Or him. She could wrap herself around him and never let go. That was a good option, too. 

She felt their eyes on her, and she flushed, remembering that she was dressed in the comfiest (and coincidentally shortest) shorts she owned and the hoodie she stole from San (yet again). Her skin prickled as a breeze swept into her apartment, and she hurriedly ushered them inside. “What are you doing here?” she asked, eyeing San and Jongho as they busied themselves with placing the bags in their hands on the coffee table. The unnamed man hovered around them, his gorgeous face set in a smile that looked as awkward as it was pretty. 

Jongho took mercy on her and the pretty guy, indicating his friend with a tilt of his head as he walked over to relieve the man of the bag in his hand. “This is Yeosang,” he said. “San wanted to visit you, but he refused to let Sang leave his side for even a moment. So, he was forced along.” 

The pretty man - Yeosang - sent her a tiny wave and a close lipped smile that was all too precious. 

“Hi, Yeosang,” she said back, sending him a smile. “It’s nice to meet you. You can make yourself comfortable anywhere. Sorry if any cat hair gets stuck in your jacket.” Just as Rora finished speaking, a tiny meow came from the direction of her bed, and she turned to see Teddy strutting his way over, rubbing against San’s legs. 

San bent down, cooing and letting his hand smooth down the cat’s back. 

“I think he came for the cat,” she joked, watching as he lifted Teddy to let the cat lean against his chest and nose at his jaw and chin. San’s resulting smile was so tender, his eyes so warm and kind, she almost wanted to cry. “You can’t just come to my apartment unannounced and make me cry, Sannie. That’s not how this works.” She pouted jokingly even as she rubbed the wetness from her eyes with the sleeve draped over her hand. 

He sent her a grin that forced his eyes nearly shut, setting the kitty back down on the ground to pull her into a hug. “No tears, darling,” he cooed, hands cupping her cheeks to plop a kiss right on her nose. “Especially not while you’re looking so cute in my hoodie.” 

Rora giggled, pushing him away from her, all too aware of the stranger still standing to himself in her apartment as his strong hands reeled her back in. “I think your friend may need your attention more than me,” she whispered to him, tiptoeing to press a kiss to his cheek. She glanced back at Yeosang, watching silently as he shifted his stance, eyes darting around her apartment before falling to the floor where Teddy was twining his body around his ankles. His fingers twitched, brows furrowed in uncertainty. “You can pet him, Yeosangie,” she said, leaning into San when he wrapped his arms around her waist, apparently unwilling to help his friend. “He won’t bite.” 

“Oh - ah,” he startled, blinked up at her with a tiny embarrassed smile. She wanted to baby him. She wanted to baby the HECK out of him, and she was sure that everyone could tell. Even him, if his shy laugh and scrunched shoulders were anything to go by. 

She stifled a giggle and exaggerated a pout at him. He was absolutely adorable, and she wanted to smother him with affection. She looked over at Jongho, who was watching his friend flounder in the new environment with a mixture of amusement and adoration. His eyes fell on her, and she tilted her head toward his friend, mouthing a “help him”. 

His brows raised, lips ticking up at the corners, but he moved over to Yeosang. Yeosang’s eyes widened and he flinched away as his friend approached, but let himself be manhandled over to the sofa without a single complaint. Jongho pushed him to sit down in the middle of the sofa, settling himself on the end against the wall. 

She squealed when San lifted her into his arms, following his friends, sitting down with her in his lap. Rora shifted around so that she could see everyone, her back against the arm rest, though San’s arm remained around her. She ignored the tingling in her tummy at the casual displays of strength happening, focusing instead on steadying her now fluttering heartbeat. 

Teddy followed with an excited chitter, jumping into Yeosang’s lap and nuzzling right into his fuzzy jacket. Yeosang made a surprised noise, but let his hand stroke down the cat’s back, a tiny smile on his face that she wanted to coo at. She melted back into San’s warmth, arms wrapping around her tummy when it gave a sudden, sharp pull. She didn’t really eat the dinner she made when she got home, tummy too tumultuous and crampy to allow for her to feel hungry, leaving her to push the food around on her plate until she wrapped it up to save for the next day. But she would have to eat something soon so she could take some more ibuprofen. 

“What’s in the bags?” she asked, curling further into San’s lap. 

“Yunho let slip that you were on your period, and Wooyoung insisted we bring you some reinforcements.”

Rora’s ears perked at that, and she tilted her head. “Reinforcements?” 

San snorted behind her, and pulled her closer against him. He set his chin on her shoulder, letting his nose and lips brush lightly against her cheek and jaw. She shivered, enjoying the feeling of his warm breath on her skin. “Woo left before Yunho even finished talking about your visit to the cafe, and came back with all of that, demanding we bring it to you.” 

“Why didn’t he bring it himself?” she asked, pulling away from San. He whined, but kept his arms around her middle to support her as she reached for the bags on the table. When she couldn’t drag them over, she pulled the coffee table closer to the sofa to peek inside instead. She was met with a container of soup with a sticky note on the lid, various snacks, and yummy warm beverages. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate. She was so excited, so happy, to see it all that she couldn’t stop the oncoming tears even if she tried. 

Rora sniffled, and something cold nudged at her shin. Teddy meowed, forcing his way into her lap. She giggled, sniffled again, accepted the snuggly cat into her arms. “I’m okay, baby,” she murmured, kissing his head. 

A hand swept down her hair and a strong arm pulled her into a wide chest. “Why are you crying?” San asked, his chuckle sending the warmest tingles through her. 

She sniffled again, wiping at her eyes. Her gaze landed on Yeosang and Jongho, and she blushed, wanting to hide just as much as she didn’t care about them seeing her with her emotions all over the place.

“I’m just really happy,” she murmured, smiling down at the kitty purring away in her lap. “Thank you for coming, and let Youngie know that I appreciate the soup and the snacks.”

“You should thank Jongho, too,” San said in a stage whisper. “He helped Woo pick the snacks.”

“Oh?” Rora asked, ignoring the way his breath tickled her skin to focus on Jongho. She hoped he could read the warmth she was feeling in that moment, hoped he could see it on her face how her heart nearly burst in her chest and her tummy fluttered. Her cheeks warmed, and she smiled softly, tilting her head to the side. “Thank you, bear.”

He shifted in his seat, sending her a smile, but his eyes refused to properly meet hers. Sliding instead to her television, where she had a show paused. “What were you watching?” he asked, clearing his throat. 

She smiled, enjoying seeing him act shy for once, but decided to let him change the subject. “I was rewatching a show I watched last year,” she said, digging out one of the snacks before settling back into San again. “I remembered it being super cozy and wanted to see if it could bring me some comfort.”

“Did it?” San asked, hand rubbing lightly down her arm. 

“Mhm.” She nodded, humming around a mouthful hazelnut chocolate spread and crunchy breadstick. 

“Then let’s watch it, hmm?” 

“I think I watched this one with Hwa,” Yeosang piped up. 

She blinked in shock, his voice lower than she imagined it would be, the roughness of it softened by a lisp. A small smile, one of endearment that she couldn’t help in the slightest, came to her face as she watched his ears turn red and that shy smile come back. 

“What did you think of it?” she asked.

“It was good.” he mumbled, ears darkening further, cheeks dusting with pink. 

“Is this the one that made you and Hwa cry?” San asked, sneaking a bite of her snack right after. 

Rora pouted at him, but it didn’t stay for long. Especially not when he reached to feed her a bite and immediately followed it up with a quick kiss that made her heart stutter as she chased for another kiss. He groaned, nipped her bottom lip, and she hummed.

Her face flushed, remembering that other people were sitting next to them. That one of those people was new to her. But she found that she didn’t care all that much anymore. In fact, she looked right at both of them, a giddy giggle bubbling up in her throat and her teeth catching her bottom lip to keep it at bay. 

San must have given Yeosang a questioning look. He cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he mumbled, scratching at his arm lightly. 

“You said this was cozy, darling,” Sannie said. She could hear the pout in his voice as he nuzzled at her cheek. 

“It is cozy,” she huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “But maybe I also needed a good cry.” 

San hummed, pressed a kiss to her temple. She relaxed into him, and he tucked his chin over her shoulder. “Wanna keep watching it?”

She nodded enthusiastically then looked at the other two, almost squealing when they both nodded. Her hands clapped together, and she reached for the remote. San’s arms tightened around her middle, stopping her from being able to grab it. With an exaggerated sigh, she pouted at Jongho. “Can you press play?” Rora asked him. 

“Of course.” Jongho reached for the remote, and her eyes tracked his every movement as he did so. Watching as the sweater tightens over his shoulders and back, watching the muscles shift to keep his balance. She wanted to hug him, wrap her arms around him and press herself against that strong back. As if he felt her gaze on him or could tell the direction of her thoughts, his eyes slid to her, head tilting, gaze roving over her face. 

She swallowed and forced her eyes away from him and to the television as the show started up from where it was paused. 

[gosuckseamonkeys]

Arid Melancholy - Chapter 4

Summary: Rafayel is captured and endures brutal torture at the hands of an agent of EVER Group intent on exploiting his people’s secrets.

Zayne, Xavier, Sylus and Rafayel must confront their deepest fear, losing you, and fight against an enemy whose ambition threatens their survival.

AN: Apologies in advance for the angst, I've been looking for similar heart wrenching fics on here for a while now before I decided to write my own. Then an evil little idea formed and pulled me reluctantly out of writing retirement.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4....

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚

Chapter 4 - Hallucinations

Burning. He was burning alive.

He didn’t know how long he had been in this wasteland. Hours? Days? 

Time had unraveled, leaving him trapped in an endless cycle of agony. The heat gnawed at him—relentless, merciless—devouring him from the inside out.

His fingers, bruised and raw, clawed at his own skin. He could barely feel it. The pain had dulled into something distant, something worse than suffering—emptiness.

How many of us have they left here to rot?

He couldn’t move. Every attempt sent violent nausea rolling through his gut. His limbs felt like they belonged to someone else—someone broken, someone dying.

When will it be my turn?

Rafayel’s mind fractured under the weight of memories, hallucinations bleeding into reality.

The desert consumed him. The sun overhead turned his flesh to embers, his bones to dust. The sand beneath him was a graveyard of souls, and soon, he would join them—just another forgotten grain tumbling over golden dunes.

Still, he held onto the idea of you. The only thing keeping him from slipping into the void.

My bride…

You stood before him, veiled in gold and teal. His hands—adorned in jewels, stained with blood he could never wash away—trembled as he traced his thumb across your lips.

He pulled you into a searing kiss, one that barely satisfied the flames licking at his very soul.

My queen…

Your voice shaped his name, the syllables a sacred thing. Two broken souls abandoning their kingdoms, reaching for memories as you refused to let him slip away. 

He would choose you in every life, no matter how many times fate tore you from his grasp.  

My heart…

He could almost feel your tender hands cradling his face, the softness of your lips brushing against his. He had always held himself back, terrified of scaring you away with the depth of his hunger.

Beloved…please.

His lips parted, cracked and bloodied, to whisper a single plea—broken, desperate, wrecked.

“Please… don’t leave me.”

Underwater

The colors around you are spellbinding—a symphony of deep teal, lavender, and cobalt blue swirling and pulsing as though alive. They wrap around you like a liquid aurora, undulating in hypnotic rhythms that blur the line between sea and sky. You’re weightless, floating on your back beneath the waves, suspended in a dream where the ocean itself breathes.

The water cradles you, its currents a gentle lullaby that pushes and pulls, spinning you in lazy spirals. Above, faint rays of the setting sun pierce the surface, their golden beams breaking into soft hues of violet and pink that bleed into one another. The shifting palette dances across your skin, stirring something in the deepest corners of your mind—a memory, faint and just beyond your grasp.

The light shifts again, deepening into a molten orange as the sun sinks lower. Shadows stretch and twist, and a sudden chill creeps into the water, curling around you like a warning. 

Night is coming, its approach slow but inevitable, and with it comes a sense of unease. A faint urgency hums in your chest, intangible yet insistent. There’s something you’re supposed to do, somewhere you’re supposed to be—but what?

A glimmer below catches your eye, pulling your gaze downward. Fins—sleek and iridescent. They shimmer like molten silver, moving with a grace that feels both foreign and familiar. You flex them instinctively, and the water parts as you surge forward, exhilarated by the rush of cool liquid sliding past your skin.

But the ocean has gone silent.

The ever-present symphony of life—the whisper of currents, the distant calls of unseen creatures—has vanished, leaving behind an eerie stillness. A heavy quiet presses down on you, thick and suffocating. You stop, your movements halting as a prickle of unease dances along your spine. The silence feels alive, a presence lurking just out of reach.

Then, breaking through the void, a sound.

Faint at first, it ripples through the water like an echo of sorrow—a muffled cry, distant and distorted. You pivot sharply, your pulse quickening, every fiber of your being straining to locate the source. The cry comes again, sharper this time, tugging at something deep inside.

Your gaze snaps upward to the surface, where the fading light of the setting sun casts an otherworldly glow. A voice filters down through the water, faint yet unmistakable. Someone is calling.

You hesitate.

You’re not meant to leave this world, not meant to breach the safety of the sea. But the voice pulls at you, its tone laced with grief, a pain so familiar it feels like your own. Against your better judgment, you flick your tail and propel yourself toward the light above.

The water grows brighter as you ascend, each stroke faster than the last. The voice grows clearer, louder, and more urgent, wrapping around your heart like a plea you can’t ignore.

“Please,” it whispers, the word drenched in despair.

As you break the surface, the air rushes into your lungs, sharp and searing. You gasp, your chest heaving as your body struggles to adjust. The burn is unbearable, a cruel reminder that you don’t belong here. For a moment, the instinct to retreat pulls at you, urging you to sink back into the dark, forgiving depths.

But the voice holds you fast, breaking through the roaring of the waves.

It calls again, clearer now, the desperation in its tone slicing through your pain. “Please…don’t leave me.”

The words pierce the haze of your thoughts, their familiarity anchoring you. You cling to the sound, to the raw, unyielding emotion behind it. The world tilts, the ocean dissolving into fragments of color and light as the voice becomes your only tether to reality.

Consciousness 

The first thing you felt was an ache—a deep, relentless throb in your chest. It wasn’t just pain; it was a hollow, all-consuming emptiness that seemed to seep into your bones, leaving you fragile and broken. Even that ache, though, was muffled, as if your body couldn’t bear the weight of it all.

You tried to move, but even the smallest shift sent a wave of exhaustion crashing over you. Your head was pounding, limbs heavy and useless, and even behind closed lids your eyes burned with the effort of existing.

A hand tightened around yours. The sensation was grounding, but it sent a jolt of confusion through your addled mind. Your mouth was dry—parched to the point of pain. When you tried to speak, the sound that escaped was no more than a weak whimper, the cracked remnants of your voice.

With agonizing effort, you forced your eyes open, blinking against the harsh light. The blurred world around you slowly sharpened, though it still felt like a dream you couldn’t wake from. 

Sunlight poured through the windows, casting long shadows and fiery streaks of gold across the room. Against the light stood a dark silhouette, their form hazy and indistinct, a phantom watching over you.

Turning your head to the right, you saw you had a second guardian. His silver hair was disheveled, his shoulders slumped as he clung to your hand like it was the only thing keeping him afloat. When your gaze met his, beautiful blue-gray eyes widened in shock, glistening with unshed tears.

“Get Zayne,” he choked out, his voice trembling with urgency. His warm fingers brushed against your cheek, and you instinctively leaned into the touch, desperate for the comfort it offered. “She’s awake,” he murmured, as though saying it aloud would make it real.

“You’re okay,” Xavier said softly, though his voice cracked. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

The words pierced through the haze, and you exhaled shakily, letting go of the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Xavier?” Your voice was barely audible, raw and strained.

His lips twitched into a sad, fragile smile. “Yeah, honey. It’s me. Don’t try to move, alright?”

Your lips moved to respond, but they were dry and cracked, refusing to cooperate.

“Here, kitten.” The figure by the window stepped forward, his imposing form now visible in the fading sunlight. Sylus held a cup to your lips, his carmine eyes filled with worry. “Take small sips. Don’t overdo it.”

The cool water soothed the fire in your throat, and you gratefully met his gaze. “Sylus…” you rasped. “What happened?”

His hand lingered at your bedside, brushing loose strands of hair from your damp forehead. “You’ve been through hell, kitten. But you’re here now. That’s what matters.” His voice was gentle, but his jaw clenched, betraying the turmoil beneath his calm exterior. “What do you remember?”

You closed your eyes, grasping at fragmented memories that slipped through your fingers like sand. “I… we were at work…”

Xavier’s voice broke through, calm yet coaxing. “That’s good. What else, sweetheart?”

Before you could answer, the door burst open, and Zayne stormed in. His hair still damp from a rushed shower, shirt hastily thrown on, and face etched with desperation.

“Why didn’t you call me right away?” His voice strained as he stared at you, his hazel eyes brimming with worry.

“She’s only been awake for a few minutes,” Sylus said, stepping between the two of you as though to shield you from Zayne’s frantic energy.

Zayne ignored him, shoving past to kneel by your bedside. His hands trembled as he took yours, his breath shaky. “Hey…” His voice faltered, “How are you feeling? Are you… are you in pain?”

“Chest hurts,” you whispered, the admission barely audible.

“I’m sorry,” Zayne murmured. His fingers brushed over the back of your hand as though trying to anchor you—and himself. “I’ll fix it. Just give me a second.”

You watched in silence as he prepared an injection, the small syringe in his steady hands. “This will help,” he said softly as he pressed it into your IV. “You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

“Do you remember what happened?” Zayne’s voice was gentle but urgent.

Images flashed through your mind: the warmth of a beautiful dress, the cold gleam of ivory statues, vibrant paintings. And then—purple hair, eyes like lavender and roses. 

His screams tore through your memory.

“Where’s Rafayel?” The words tumbled out in a frantic whimper, tears welling in your eyes.

The room fell silent, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. Sylus and Xavier exchanged a glance, and Zayne’s expression darkened.

“We’re close,” Sylus finally said, his voice soft but firm. “We’ll get him back.”

Your chest tightened with panic. “What do you mean? Where is he?” You tried to sit up, but agony erupted in your chest, and Zayne’s hands pressed you firmly back into the bed. 

“I need you to relax,” Zayne said, holding you steady. “You were shot two days ago. Do you remember the exhibit?”

“They took him from me,” you choked out, tears spilling over.

“We’ll get him back,” Sylus promised again. But even as he spoke, the fear for you in his eyes betrayed him. 

Sylus placed his hand on your other shoulder, his firm grip joining Zayne’s, while Xavier stood silently at the foot of the bed, poised to intervene if necessary.

“Sweetie, I promise we’ll tell you everything as soon as we know more,” Sylus said gently. “Right now, you need to heal. Your condition—”

“They’re hurting him,” you sobbed, your voice rising in anguish. “He’s so scared… I have to find him! Please!”

Sylus glanced at Zayne, shaking his head solemnly.

“Darling, stop,” Zayne begged, cupping your face in his hands. “You’ll hurt yourself. Please don’t make me sedate you—I can’t lose you again.” His voice was broken and pleading.

“He’s right,” Xavier said quietly, his voice heavy with unspoken grief. You turned to him where he was standing at the foot of the bed. His expression was strained, his usual stoicism fracturing, revealing a vulnerability that made your heart clench.

“When I saw you at the gallery…” He hesitated, his breath hitching as he struggled to speak. His hands trembled at his sides, and his eyes—those usually steady, composed eyes—shone with a sorrow that threatened to consume him. “They had to… you were dead.”

The word fell like a stone between you, cold and unforgiving. His voice wavered on the last syllable, shaking with the weight of the memory. “They had to bring you back. I watched them do it…” His voice trailed off into a haunted whisper.

Your breath caught as his words pierced through your chest, more painful than the lingering ache from your injuries. You shook your head in protest, but the truth loomed over you, undeniable and suffocating. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks as the enormity of it all pressed you into the pillows, leaving you hollow and defeated.

“Do you trust me?” Sylus’ voice cut through the suffocating silence like a lifeline. It was steady, firm, and unyielding—a single constant in the sea of uncertainty.

You turned your head toward him, meeting his crimson gaze. It burned with intensity, his resolve like a flame that refused to be extinguished.

“Always,” you sobbed, the word barely audible over your ragged breaths.

“Then let me do what I do best.” His tone was resolute, leaving no room for doubt. His hand rested on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the midst of your spiraling despair. Slowly, his thumb moved in soothing circles, trying to chase away the tension knotted in your muscles. “I won’t rest until we’ve found him.”

His promise hung in the air, but it felt as fragile as glass—one wrong move, and it would shatter.

Your gaze flicked between the three men standing around you, each of them carrying their own burden of guilt, fear, and desperation. The weight of their devotion left you breathless. 

With a faint, bittersweet smile, you shook your head in disbelief, tears still streaking your face. “I never thought I’d live to see the day you all agreed on something.”

Zayne lowered himself into the chair beside you, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. The raw love in his gaze made your chest ache all over again. “For you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “I think we’d do just about anything.”

And in that moment, the truth of his words was undeniable. What terrified you most wasn’t their willingness to fight—it was the growing fear that it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Rafayel…” you whispered your lover’s name under your breath, willing your intentions into the bond that stretched between you. “Hold on, we’re coming. Don’t you dare die on me…”

Double Trouble

The twins tore down the highway in the sleek black Aston Martin, Kieran at the wheel, pushing the engine at least fifty miles over the speed limit.

“We’ll have to ditch it about five miles from the facility,” Luke muttered, eyes glued to his phone as he scrolled through the details the boss had sent that morning. “We should’ve picked something less conspicuous.”

“Does the Boss even own anything inconspicuous?” Kieran snorted, his grip tightening on the wheel as they blew past the sign for their exit. “Besides, he never lets us take the fun ones out. He said to get there fast, so… I picked something fast. We’re almost there. What are we walking into?”

Luke glanced up briefly before returning to his screen. “Looks like an abandoned agricultural processing plant that EVER Group repurposed a few years back.” He scrolled further. “Actually, scratch that—they bought out the whole damn town. Whatever they’re running, it’s big.”

“What kind of resistance?” Kieran asked, his voice shifting to something sharper as he veered onto the off-ramp.

“If it’s EVER, expect the unexpected. For an operation this size, I’d guess at least a hundred employees, maybe a fifth of them security.” Luke tilted his head toward a cluster of distant buildings. “That’s it up there. There should be an old farmhouse on the right—we’ll stash the car there and walk the rest.”

Kieran nodded, eyes locked on the road as they closed in. The farmhouse loomed ahead, a relic of a forgotten time, standing in the midst of overgrown fields. He pulled into the lot, gravel crunching beneath the tires.

“Get the barn door open,” he ordered. “I’ll tuck the car inside.”

Luke hopped out, yanking the rusted door aside. The Aston Martin purred forward into the shadows, disappearing from sight.

Kieran stepped out, checking his knives with quick, practiced movements before turning to his brother. “What time’s sunset?”

“7:15,” Luke murmured, glancing up at the darkening sky through the eyeholes of his mask. “We’ve got twenty minutes. Let’s move, stick to the fields. Boss said if we’re caught, we’ll be on our own until they come for the artist.”

“Race you?” Kieran grinned, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Luke scoffed. “You know I’m faster. Why even try?”

Without warning, Kieran swept Luke’s legs out from under him and bolted for the cornfields. “Not today you’re not!” he called over his shoulder.

Luke swore, scrambling to his feet and taking off after him.

It took them twenty minutes to reach the edge of the property, the dense fields keeping them concealed. Luke pulled out a pair of binoculars and handed them to Kieran, who scanned the buildings for an entry point.

“Blueprints show Buildings A and B are mostly office space,” Luke whispered, scrolling through the plans. “C is for material drop-offs and sorting, D is for treatment—whatever that means—E and F are storage and loading.”

“So we’re looking at D or E,” Kieran muttered, lowering the binoculars. “My money’s on E.”

“Agreed,” Luke said. “But let’s check C to be safe. A and B are probably just paper-pushers.” He glanced up as the last sliver of sunlight faded, plunging the facility into shadow. The once-busy parking lot had mostly emptied, leaving only about twenty scattered cars and a handful of trucks.

“You take C and D. I’ll handle E and F,” Kieran murmured, crouching behind the nearest vehicle.

Luke nodded. “Meet back here in thirty?”

“Race you,” Kieran whispered, flashing a sly grin before melting into the darkness.

The twins split, slipping through the shadows—silent, unseen, and very much up to no good.

Arrival

“Sir, prepare for landing,” the pilot called over his shoulder to the passengers in the back of the Cessna.

The tall man, dressed in an immaculate cream suit, moved with practiced precision, folding his documents into his briefcase before retrieving a cell phone from his breast pocket. With a flick of his thumb, he dialed a familiar number.

“Marcus, I’ll be arriving within the hour.”

A voice on the other end responded, briefing him on the status of their latest acquisition.

He listened, expression unreadable. Then, with quiet finality, he cut in. “That’s all well and good—just make sure he’s coherent by the time I arrive. I don’t like being made to wait.”

Without another word, he ended the call, lifted his tumbler, and swirled the last remnants of amber liquid before downing them in a single motion. He handed the empty glass to his assistant, who took it without question, standing rigidly at his side.

“Are we sure it’s him?” the assistant asked, his voice measured, yet slicing through the thick tension in the cabin like a blade.

The suited man reached into his briefcase, retrieving a glossy photograph. Without looking at it, he passed it over, “See for yourself.”

The image depicted a man with tangled violet hair, chained to the cold floor of one of their facilities, stripped of dignity, of power. A rare specimen.

“We won’t know for certain until I inspect him myself.”

The assistant studied the photo for a moment before tucking it away. “Understood. I’ll prepare for landing.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across the suited man’s face. “Either way, Marcus has proven himself a valuable asset. We should consider extending his contract.”

“And the brother?” the assistant inquired.

The suited man exhaled, a low hum of amusement under his breath. “As far as we can tell, he’s out of commission. That fire Evol is formidable.”

His grin widened, sharp as the edge of a knife. “If he recovers, he recovers. The blood has already done much to restore him.” He leaned back, folding his hands over his knee. “But leverage is a powerful thing. Now Marcus has a vested interest in ensuring our operation continues. Without further infusions, there’s no guarantee his brother will survive.”

He chuckled, dark and knowing, “Desperation makes men so very… compliant.”

Brothers

Marcus sat beside Bennett, who lay motionless on a pristine white cot. Half of his face was hidden beneath layers of sterile gauze, the bandages stretching down to cover his chest and left arm. He hadn't stirred since the incident at the gallery.

The artist had inflicted third-degree burns that should have killed him. By all rights, he should be dead. And yet, ironically, the very blood the Lemurian had unwillingly sacrificed was the only thing tethering the mercenary to life.

With a measured breath, Marcus rose, retrieving another vial of the life-sustaining substance from his pocket and pressing it into the nurse’s waiting hand. “Administer this at the top of the hour.”

She nodded, tucking the vial away before slipping silently through the door. It clicked shut behind her, leaving Marcus alone with the steady, mechanical rhythm of his brother’s breathing.

He hadn’t wanted to extend his contract. Hadn’t wanted to dig himself deeper into this web of blood and power. But with Bennett’s condition, he had no choice. His brother was the only family he had left, and worse—Bennett was here because of him. Marcus had convinced him to take this job. That made his survival Marcus’ burden to bear.

Exhaling slowly, he pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen flashing with an all-too-familiar name. Their benefactor was due to arrive today, but the firm’s impatience sent an uneasy weight settling in his gut. They wanted to inspect their latest acquisition sooner than expected.

He pressed the call button, bringing the device to his ear.

“Sir,” Marcus answered, his voice carefully neutral.

A brief silence. Then—

“Understood. I’ll have him ready for you.”

Bonded

Rafayel...Hold on, we’re coming.

Rafayel’s heart lurched violently, a raw, searing jolt as the bond pulsed awake for the first time since his capture. His battered body spasmed in response, agony carving through his ribs, his muscles seizing as the mark flared to life against his mangled chest. 

It burned—not just against his flesh, but deep inside his soul, a commanding force pressing its will into his own. For a moment, it was enough to push back the numbing weight of exhaustion, flooding him with a desperate, flickering resolve.

He sucked in a ragged breath, the air sharp and stale, scraping through his lungs like broken glass. His entire being trembled as he choked out a hoarse, disbelieving whisper.

“You’re alive….”

If his body had anything left to give, he would have sobbed. Instead, all he could do was curl onto his side, hunching over the pulse of warmth within him, clinging to it as if it was the only thing tethering him to existence. 

No matter what happened to him, no matter how much more blood he spilled onto these cold, metallic floors, at least he knew you were still breathing. For now, that was enough.

He was so consumed by that fragile, fleeting relief that he didn’t hear the footfalls until it was too late. The door wrenched open with a deafening clang.

Blinding fluorescent light sliced into the darkness, searing his retinas like fire. Rafayel recoiled, his body curling in on itself as a gust of cooler air followed the figures stepping inside. The scent of steel and sweat filled his nose—gunpowder and antiseptic. Footsteps. More than one.

His stomach twisted.

Marcus entered first. Behind him, a suited man moved with calculated ease, his presence heavier than the fleet of armed guards waiting just outside the threshold.

“Turn him over. I need to see his face.” The voice was smooth, clipped, accented. Distant, like a man giving orders at a dinner party.

Rafayel barely had time to brace before a boot came down on his arm, pressing—grinding—against his shattered ribs, forcing a broken, strangled gasp from his lips. Then, with effortless cruelty, Marcus rolled him onto his back.

A whimper slipped free before he could stop it. Shame curled hot in his chest, his body betraying him in ways he could no longer control. His vision blurred, unfocused, and his gaze dragged sluggishly over the faces above him, indistinct shapes against the burning light.

“Well done, Marcus. I’m impressed.” The suited man’s voice was a serpent’s hiss, oozing satisfaction as he clapped Marcus on the shoulder. His smirk cut through the haze.

“How do you feel about—”

Don’t you dare die on me…

Pain flared.

A violent, involuntary convulsion wracked Rafayel’s body, his back arching off the ground as the bond pulsed again, brighter this time. Then reduced to a dim, flickering glow pressed through the tattered remains of his silk dress shirt—what little was left of it after the gallery showing.

The suited man froze. His eyes narrowed, calculation flashing across his features before he knelt beside Rafayel.

“What do we have here?” Fingers prodded at his sternum—cold, invasive, prying. Searching.

Weakly, Rafayel tried to shove them away. He might as well have been swatting at the tide. A sharp backhand cracked across his face, snapping his head to the side. His vision blackened for a second, a high ringing filling his ears.

Then, hands gripped the edges of his collar, tearing.

The last few buttons of his ruined shirt pinged off the floor, the tiny sounds vanishing beneath the rasp of his own ragged breathing. The mark lay exposed now, its glow fading, but unmistakable.

Silence. Then, a slow, creeping smirk.

“You’re bonded.” The words dripped with triumph. A revelation. “That makes things easier.”

Rafayel turned his face away, pressing his cheek into the cold, filthy floor, hiding the raw emotion twisting in his expression. 

He couldn’t let them see.

Couldn’t let them know what you meant to him.

Couldn’t let them see how deeply he loved.

They would rip you from him piece by piece. They would use you, break you, and then dangle whatever remained before him like a noose, waiting for the moment he begged.

He would give them anything.

His life. His people. His last, tattered fragments of dignity.

He had done it before.

What did it matter if he drowned his soul in more blood?

A hollow, rotting sickness curled up his throat. He never should have fought so hard to find you. Never should have clawed his way into your life—your heart. 

“What is that?” Marcus crouched beside him, phone in hand, snapping a picture of the mark. The sound of the shutter was a gunshot to Rafayel’s ears.

The suited man stood, brushing off his hands like he had touched something unpleasant, “Was he with someone when you found him?”

Terror clamped down on Rafayel’s lungs.

No.

No. No, no, no—

Marcus exhaled, unconcerned. “His assistant. And a woman.” He shrugged. “A hunter.”

The suited man stilled. Slowly, he turned, glancing back at Rafayel’s broken form.

“The woman. Where is she?”

Marcus’ answer was careless. “I shot her. Could be dead for all I know. Left her at the scene—I had other priorities.”

“His bonded. His mate.” The suited man tsked and shook his head. “She’s alive.” 

Then, almost amused—almost pleased—he murmured. “Find her, and he’ll beg to tell us where the colonies are.”

Marcus cursed under his breath. Dragged a hand through his hair as realization hit him like a fist.

“Bring the footage of the capture to my office.” The suited man only chuckled. He was already walking away, but just before he vanished down the hall, his voice drifted back, casual, offhanded. “I want to see her for myself.”

Rafayel’s heart stopped beating in cold realization. 

They’ll know…your Aether Core….

He was a death sentence, a curse wrapped in warm flesh and whispered promises. He should have let himself fade years ago, let the sea take him back before it was too late.

He should have left you alone, kept his distance.

He deserved to be forgotten.

It was too late for that now.

With a guttural snarl, Marcus spun and drove his fist into the wall. Rafayel flinched, but the blankness in his expression never wavered.

Inside, though—inside, he was screaming.

Anguish. Rage. Horror.

Self-loathing so sharp it could cut.

Maybe if he pushed them hard enough, they’d make a mistake. Maybe if he gave them nothing, they would break him beyond repair. Maybe—

Maybe they would end him.

It would be better than letting them use you.

Better than letting them leverage his heart against him.

“Bring him to D for treatment,” Marcus ordered, his voice tight with barely contained fury. “I’ll meet you there shortly.”

Rafayel didn’t resist when they seized his arms. Didn’t fight when they dragged him away.

His mind had already slipped into the dark, spiraling abyss of possibilities.

All he could do was hope—pray—that Zayne and the others would protect you.

Because he had already failed.

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚

Apologies for the delay, I had an extended work trip in Miami and I didn't have the chapter uploaded. I didn't feel right publishing it un-edited from my phone. I'll do my best to get the next one up over the weekend.

Cross posted on AO3 under "holywaterbucketchallenge" for those of you who prefer that platform.

Appreciate your patience! I hope it was worth the wait. As always, looking forward to your feedback :)

[serenescribe]

the prince's physician Twisted Wonderland | 3.7k Summary: Malleus is the prince’s physician. He reflects on everything his role entails. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52875436 Collaboration with @ohsleepie | Potential spoilers for elements of Chapter 7

Hello everyone! This fic is directly inspired by @ohsleepie's wonderful "The Prince and his Physician" AU, and wound up being an impromptu collaboration featuring absolutely stunning and incredible art drawn by Sleepie himself! Please check him out and follow him!

I'm so happy to share this, and I hope that you all enjoy it!

The days between the prince’s passing and his inevitable reincarnation always feel the longest to Malleus.

Time, as it is, is a slow-paced thing; such is life for him as the last of his kind, a single year feeling far more miniscule for him than it does for a human. Malleus loses track of the days easily, slips up on his months and years. He is only aware of the passage of time through distant observations of festivities — celebrations to herald in a new year, for one, or the prince’s birthday, for another.

But rather than track the time through each changing year, Malleus tracks them in cycles of Silver’s life and death.

With each new reincarnation, each new cycle brought anew, something imperceptible shifts in the air. A rebirth means many things — to the kingdom’s populace, it is yet another year of a curse yet unbroken; to Malleus, it is a tangible, physical mark of his failures. But failures aside, there is something so jarring, so off-putting, about seeing the nursemaids and servants whisk a cradle through the halls of the castle, a cradle Malleus knows the contents of.

It is Silver, always Silver, a slumbering baby identical to the dozens that came before him — wispy locks of silver hair that plaster against his forehead, pudgy hands and chubby cheeks, and when he opens his eyes, those same, breathtaking hues of the brightest auroras.

Malleus always stops and stares whenever these moments occur. For an instant, his breath is stolen right from his throat by some unseen thief; his mind dredges up memories of when he, himself, was young, stirring to life old cycles when he was but a child himself, unable to comprehend Silver’s passing and subsequent return. It had taken him quite some time to grasp all of it — but then again, could one truly blame Malleus when his guardian figure, the kindly young prince his age who took him in and treated him well, had died in bed, only to reappear as a wee babe?

But when Silver returns, Malleus feels as though he can breathe again, an invisible knot in his throat loosened.

Because when Silver is gone, Malleus feels… useless, for lack of a better word. His own memories of his childhood are haphazard and spotty, mainly made up of foggy recollections of surviving in the harsh brambles of fae forests. For many, many years, he has found a purpose, was given one through being brought to this human kingdom: break our prince’s curse, and save him from Death’s unyielding grip.

There are few here who deign to interact with him beyond courteous pleasantries. They turn their noses up at him, eyes narrowing, lips twisting; it is fae, they whisper to each other, voices dripping with venom. If not for its magic, its prowess, surely we would have left it to die.

Silver is kind to him, has always been ever since he was young. So is it truly so shocking that Malleus feels so lost with him gone, and feels so relieved whenever he returns?

(And yet, intermingled with the relief, buried underneath such feelings of solace, there lurks another monster. A sense of guilt which festers, slowly growing over time.

An old memory rises whenever Malleus reflects on it for too long, of Silver’s voice:

“I wish for you to break my curse, Malleus. But I do not want to be immortal. My people have suffered for far too long, unable to grow and prosper due to my unending fate.”

He remembers a soft, sad smile.

“To relieve them of that burden, to allow them to grow with my final passing… that is what I wish for, above all else.”)

“How are you feeling today, your majesty?”

It is always odd, with each new cycle. To reacquaint himself with this new Silver — so much like the one before, in his appearance and demeanour, yet lacking the full memories of his past. Malleus knows Silver recalls just enough, especially when aided with the meticulous journals his previous incarnations have kept, but it is jarring, all the same, to reintroduce himself to someone he has known for many, many decades.

Silver blinks at him from the bed, the four-poster frame draped with too many silks and gauzes, too big for a boy of his size. His eyes are tinged with crusts of sleep, bags forming under them despite the medicines and foods they all have him eat, and yet there is such a strange tranquillity resting in his expression whenever Malleus sees him. “I’m quite alright, Malleus,” he responds, voice scarcely a whisper, soft and sweet. “And you don’t need to call me such formalities. We’ve been over this many times.”

Malleus exhales, the breath slipping through his nose.

No matter how many times Silver tells him as such — and it has been plentiful, through Silvers young and old, of different years, different decades, different centuries — Malleus still abides by such titles, at least when he first speaks to him. It gets easier as the years pass, as he acquaints himself a bit closer, as Silver inches closer to another inevitable death, but all the same—

“You are to be his physician,” a voice instructs him, the memory looming to life once more, “and you do not stand on equal ground with him. As such, you are to abide by our formalities: he is to be referred to as ‘your majesty,’ and nothing else.”

“Prince Silver,” Malleus says instead, the title a little clunky on his tongue. Silver raises an eyebrow at him, but does not push. He merely sits in place as Malleus walks over, his heels clicking against the floor, tail lashing behind the fabrics of his half-skirt. “Allow me to check you over today, if you will.”

“At this point, you need not even ask.”

The days go by the same way they always do: Malleus inspects Silver over carefully, running careful hands over every inch of his body before he adjusts his magic, and delves deeper into the beyond. His instincts are carefully attuned for any little change, anything he has never seen or felt before — any anomaly at all could give a new direction for him to research in, and a new possibility of a means to break the curse.

(He refuses to let himself think too hard about what breaking the curse truly entails. Malleus has ruminated over it over the course of many, many cycles, laying wide awake in bed, staring up at elegantly painted murals on the ceiling in the dark of night. It is always the same thing — should he abide by the kingdom’s wishes, or by his prince’s?

In the end, regardless of which route he chooses, Malleus shall break the curse. But it is the eternal dilemma presented to him that tangles his soul day after day — what would truly be better, to let Silver live past the ages of youth and mature into an all-powerful, immortal king? Or to let him die in peace, freeing his people from the burdens of a monarchy, their hopes and dreams all inextricably tied to their young and dying prince?

And, to another extent, the other part of the question Malleus thinks about, what does he want himself?

There is a part of him that feels such vibrant joy and pride at the thought of Silver thriving — to live as long as Malleus shall, if not even longer; to rule with his steadfastness and kindness, resolute as he heralds a new, immortal age of glory. Malleus knows little about the history of his own kind, but what tiny bits he can dredge up have taught him of a group of creatures with such power and perfection, such beauty and bravery. They thrived in the night, ruled from the shadows, creatures of such majestic, nigh-immortal magic with an arrogance that led to their own downfall.

As a fae himself, Malleus wonders if it is only natural for him to desire such things for Silver. To watch him grow into the ages he has never been able to reach before, to witness him at his fullest might and glory.

And yet, the mere thought of the stabbing betrayal in those auroral eyes, the sadness that may overcome those soft features, is enough to give him pause each and every time.)

He was young when they found him skulking about the brambles.

For as long as Malleus can remember, he has always been alone. Though he’s certain he remembers some sensations of warmth from before he came into being, of being cradled close in a loving embrace, all he remembers, through to his earliest memories, is of being alone.

And for such a lonely fae child, wandering about an overgrown, abandoned valley, what else was there for him to do but survive? To pounce about and gulp down whatever meals he could find, to curl up in the nooks of trees and little rock caverns to try and keep warm… and to hide in the brambles, slitted eyes peering at civilisation from afar.

He’d watched the daily lives of the human kingdom after finding out about their existence, when he was old enough to try and mimic a form similar to their own. Still, Malleus had been too scared to venture too close, some innate part of him screaming at him to stay away, and so he had simply observed from a distance… until one day, they found him.

He remembers little of that day now. It’s all a blur when he tries to recollect it — sharp grips tightening around his limbs as he kicked and thrashed, searing magic that ripped through his veins, burning those who tried to hurt him, being thrown and tossed about, immobilised by something that seared at his skin… All while screaming and yelling flooded the air, his heartbeat thumping chaotically in his ears, head spinning as his surroundings whirled about him—

And then it stopped.

And then there was Silver.

He was young then. That, Malleus recalls. He remembers everything after the pain and the panic with ease, of the way the young boy — just as young as he, with silver hair and such pretty, colourful eyes, and oh-so gentle hands — had removed the searing things that hurt him, and rubbed something that stung before it began to feel better.

“My name is Silver,” the boy told him, in a soft, kind voice that made Malleus feel… safe. “I’m sorry about the pain they caused you. I hope you’re feeling better now.”

Malleus understood him, of course, in some strange, innate way. But his tongue could not shape the same sounds that he heard, no matter how hard he tried. When he spoke, all he could manage was something that chimed and clicked, something Silver didn’t understand.

And yet, in spite of all that, Silver had such patience with him anyway. He allowed Malleus to stay by his side, to stay in his room, eating the same foods that he did — and what a treat they were, for a child who starved as long as he had! — and sleeping in his bed.

Time passed; his wounds healed. His tongue began to curl in all the right ways, taught painstakingly by Silver how to speak in his tongue in-between the periods of time where he had to disappear. Malleus relished in each and every day, the loneliness that haunted him for so long no longer looming over him like a shadow. Now, he had Silver—

Until he didn’t.

Silver hadn’t woken up one day, no matter how hard Malleus tried. Nudging him, shaking him, calling his name until his voice rose in a panic, and the door slammed open, footsteps thumping into the room. He’d been dragged away, kicking and screaming again, the same terror from years ago swelling up once more in his heart; the fire that sparked through his veins, the sheer agony and pain, the lurking realisation that he was alone again.

He remembers very little of those in-between days, the foggy haze of nothingness only pierced by a baby’s cry and the realisation that Silver had somehow returned. But it hadn’t been until years later, years of being stuck in a tiny little bedroom by himself, that Malleus could finally see him again.

Silver was younger now. Younger than Malleus himself. And finally, he explained it to him.

“I have a curse on me,” Silver told him, as simply as possible, as Malleus curled around him in his bed. “And other humans believe you can break it.”

Malleus blinked up at him, raising his head from the soft, downy cushions. “I… can?”

“You can,” Silver affirmed with a gentle smile, his voice high. He reached out, wrapping his arm around Malleus and bringing him close. “Because you’re a fae. You’re so strong. If anyone can help me, it’s you.”

The truth, of course, was far more complex than that simplistic explanation. The truth was that Silver’s curse itself was fae-inflicted and, considering the immense strength of the fair folk, only another fae’s skills would be able to eliminate the curse. But Malleus had been young, and Silver, despite his youth and the fact that he still barely recalled his own memories, was kind, trying to explain everything to Malleus as simply as possible: You are strong, and we believe in you. I believe in you.

And Malleus had accepted it, taking on his new role as the prince’s physician with a regal sort of pride.

Magic slinks through his veins as naturally as blood, the two intermingling and intertwining. It comes to him so easily, far more than even the most expert mages of the kingdom, who have spent decades of their mortal lives honing their skill to a perfect shine.

But for as naturally gifted as Malleus is, he lacks the proper training one should have. That is, not the training of human mages, for he has gone through many cycles worth of such a thing, but the training of a fae.

Fae magic is so distinctly different from that of humans, rooted in their very heart and soul, and in the power of the natural world around them. And though Malleus can adapt to his circumstances, taking what the reluctant tutors teach him and twisting it to suit his own strengths, there is only so much he can learn and do until he hits a wall, and gets stuck in one place.

If only there were other fae still alive, still out there. If only, Malleus thinks longingly, a swell of frustration burgeoning within him as he hits yet another blockade in another theory he’s been trying to test, the ink of his feathered quill dragging to a blotchy halt across the parchment as he struggles to pen what he’s been theorising into written words.

He hears the whispers of the court, day after day. Why isn’t there any progress? the humans ask, as though Malleus can flick his wrist and cure anything instantly. How many years has it been here? How much longer must we suffer? How much more must our prince wait?

And the thing is, Malleus desires nothing more than to be able to snap his fingers and dispel that wretched curse, all at once. But beyond other factors, such as Silver’s private request to him all that time ago to grant him a peaceful death and free his kingdom from the shackles of his immortality, there is the very fact that this is a fae curse, a complex, interweaving system of magic designed to loop Silver’s death, all while bringing him back every time. There is intent behind this convoluted spell, and save nothing short of somehow speaking to the caster himself, there is little Malleus can do but break it all down in reverse.

He rakes a hand through his hair, a growl spilling from his throat. The quill clatters to the table as he drags his hands down his face, biting back a haggard sigh.

The sound of knocking against wood.

“You may enter,” he calls, twisting in his chair to stare at the door.

The hinges squeak as it cracks open, revealing a guardsman who leers at him. “Your presence is requested,” they state, not bothering to hide their disdain, yet having enough basic courtesy not to let it spill into their words. “The council wishes to learn of your progress on breaking his majesty’s curse.”

Dark lips twist into an ugly sneer. The council, Malleus seethes. A group of uppity, stuck-up human nobles, who constantly die and get replaced with equally awful replacements, who keep breathing down his back about any meagre bits of progress he’s been able to make despite Silver’s attempts to get them to stop.

The downsides of Silver constantly reincarnating, needing to relearn everything all over again as he dives back through journals and jostles his own memories, is that he can’t always chase them away, telling them to leave his physician alone, and let him work. This is one of those times, it seems; Silver is too busy learning how to be a human being again, leaving Malleus stranded against a group of men who seem hellbent on making his very existence hell throughout what little bits of life they live.

But it is not as though he can deny a summons. For all his title as the prince’s physician, Malleus knows — has known for such a very long time — that his rank is meaningless without the very prince he serves.

“Tell them that I shall arrive in five minutes.” Picking up his quill, Malleus dips it back into a pot of ink, a furious frustration igniting the spark within him as he turns back to his incomplete report.

It is better than nothing, and that is worth something.

Malleus holds very little loyalty to this kingdom. What else is there for him, when he is destined to outlive everyone within it, and when they are all so bent on treating him as though he personally killed their families?

He is aware of the history between them and his own ancestors, the plentiful fae who used to share these lands until they waged war against the humans, slaughtering them in a painful, bloody battle. The humans had emerged victorious, all the fae driven out or slain, but it had come at the heavy cost of all their royals killed — except for one.

And for years, they had watched their prince grow with pride, until he had died before his coronation. And then it had happened again, and again, and again — they would find him as a baby nestled within a clearing in the nearby woods, identical in each and every iteration, and they would watch as he always died before arriving at his years of maturity, always while he was far too young.

A fae curse, they realised, far too late. How foolish they had been, to dismiss the magic struck against their prince! It is a fate worse than death, they lamented, their spirits growing weary with each new cycle. What shall we do?

Malleus is their answer to their conundrum, a solution to a problem his ancestors made. And yet, for all the supposed salvation he represents and is supposed to bring, he knows what they think of him. And though he understands it, understands the reservations and hatred for everything he represents, he also cannot help but resent them for it.

Why is he treated like he is lesser, when he is trying to help them?

His loyalty lies with their prince, with Silver, for the kindness Malleus has been shown over and over, throughout countless identical reincarnations, countless ends and beginnings. It is the reason why he stays, why he endures it all, why he works painstakingly at dissecting a curse only he stands a chance of understanding, in hopes of shattering this cruel fate once and for all.

He carries the hopes and dreams of the kingdom on his shoulders — a cruel irony, Malleus knows, considering what most of the populace think of him. He is their only hope, in the end.

But the thing is — and this, Malleus has come to realise over time:

It is easy for the humans to root for their prince. It is easy for them to hope, to pray, to plead with whatever higher forces exist out there for the fae physician to break his curse, bringing them all into a golden age of their royal’s immortality. It is easy because they are human; for many of them, they will not live long enough to witness more than perhaps four or five of their prince’s life cycles, forcing them to tell their descendents of their desires to carry on the flames of their hopes.

When one does not live long enough for their awe and admiration, their all-consuming anticipation, to melt away into something far more pessimistic, it is easy to stand strong and proclaim, “I wish for my prince to live forever; I wish for him to lead us into a new age.”

But for Malleus? For the only fae in a kingdom of mortals, destined to outlive each and every one of them by proxy of his heritage alone?

He has lost count of just how many cycles he has witnessed, from the tender years of childhood into the grown fae he is today. He has lost track of how many times he has met Silver for the first time, the servants and guards and nursemaids who care for him and guard him all switching out cycle after cycle, as more of them die and more of them are replaced.

The humans see not what Malleus witnesses over time: the piles of journals that stack up higher and higher; the heavy bags that marr the underside of those striking auroral eyes; the pure exhaustion that sinks into their prince’s every movement and word, the way he gazes upon his kingdom from towering windows.

In the end, this miserable curse can only end one way: Silver must die.

(The question still remains, pressing down on Malleus’ shoulders, an invisible burden weighing him down with each soft smile and greeting he receives.

Shall Silver live forever? Or only once more?)

[bigsexiest]

What if some ghouls were nocturnal

I'm sure it causes some issues within the pack's dynamic. Watch as I whip out some crazy knowledge from this quick Google search I just did.

Fire and Earth are diurnal (mostly active only during the day)

the pack usually follows these periods of activity when they are home from tour, but on tour they all follow the same schedule

Mountain loves tending to his garden during the hottest brightest hours. He loves the heat and beauty of all the life around him. He doesn't really burn, despite Aether and Omega's constant warnings for sunscreen. They don't actually know if sunscreen works the same for ghouls as it does for humans, but they want to be safe. Mountain slathers it on just for them, but it doesn't seem to make much of a difference. He loves the brightness of everything in the sun. It seems to make him bloom just as it does his flowers. He'll grow these lovely orange and red vining flowers on his horns if he spends enough time in the sun. Aurora says they compliment his skin tone. Mountain always blushes when she tells him how cute they are.

Dew also loves the heat, but only because it makes him comfortable. Usually, he’s a bit chilly at all times. He does his best to hide it, especially since he runs so hot compared to other ghouls. Just the slightest breeze feels unnatural to him. During the hottest days of summer, he feels right at home. Sometimes Rain will wake up and look blearily through his curtains at Dew laying on a concrete pathway directly in the sun. Rain's eyes need a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, as does his brain. He doesn't understand how Dew can enjoy the searing heat coming from both sides. The pavement must burn, and the sun must be so hot on the fire ghoul's skin. It certainly is hot, but Dew enjoys nothing more than the heat.

Multi and Quintessence are crepuscular (which means active during twilight hours)

These two ghoul types find it easier to be active during the strange transitional hours between day and night. Despite this, they often follow either a nocturnal or diurnal schedule since it’s difficult to be the only ghoul awake. Either way, they will usually take long naps during both the day and night so they can be awake enough for dawn and dusk

Aether will wake earlier than Dew, but will mostly follow the fire ghoul’s schedule. Dew sometimes likes to nap with Aether during the peak of the day. They snuggle in Dew's bed, soaking in the sun coming from a window. Aether doesn't need it to be dark to fall asleep weirdly enough. The heat makes Dew drowsy with happiness anyway so it's not a problem. Sometimes the heat emanating from Dew's skin can be a little uncomfy for Aether, but they figure it out.

Swiss finds himself fluctuating between Mountain and Rain’s schedule. He finds joy in being active during both periods. He doesn't have a favorite. They both have their pros and cons. Swiss prefers sunrise and sunset, but, based on his mood, he stays awake for the rest of the day or night. If he wants quiet, he'll look for Rain or Aurora and spend the dark peaceful hours of the night with them. If he wants to be loud and energetic, he'll search for Dew or Mountain and help them out with whatever they're doing. He loves to spend time in Mountain's garden, smelling all the beautiful scents and chasing butterflies.

Phantom will flip-flop between Aurora and Dew’s schedule. He's the most likely to stick with the crepuscular schedule, though. During dusk, he'll wake up early enough to eat dinner with the diurnal ghouls, but he'll save enough space to eat breakfast with the nocturnal ghouls when they wake up. He'll be active for a few hours, and then take a hefty nap. He wakes up for the nocturnal ghoul's dinner before joining the diurnal ghouls for their breakfast. He enjoys his strange cycle, but sometimes he switches things up and stays awake for a shift, following one of the other ghouls through their period of activity.

Omega liked to follow Terzo’s human diurnal schedule

Air and Water are nocturnal (active during the night)

Rain will sleep through the entire day using blackout curtains in his windows. When the sun finally sets he’ll leave his room and go to the lake. He’ll swim around in the moonlight and scare the occasional human taking a midnight walk. He finds the sun dries out his skin far too much for comfort. If he were to force himself to become diurnal, he'd be very unhappy. The heat is abrasive, especially when he'd have to wear numerous cover-ups to protect against the burning sun. Rain likes the nighttime since, as a water ghoul, he's much more likely to overheat. Water ghouls are meant to stay in the water for the majority of their time awake. Rain finds it easier to stay awake during the day only when he spends all of it in the lake. The water protects his skin from drying out and burning and stops him from overheating. Staying in the water the entire day defeats the point of staying awake during the day. He can't be with his favorite ghouls if he can't leave the lake. So it's just easier for Rain to stay nocturnal.

The air ghouls just love the cool breeze that flows in the nighttime. It's quiet and they can fully appreciate the world without distractions. Cirrus, Cumulus, and Sunshine all like to take nighttime walks around the abbey's grounds. Aurora sometimes joins them, but she also likes to swim with Rain. Aurora and Rain have long conversations about how they feel disconnected from their friends. Groups of ghouls in the pit would form packs around their element. Nocturnal and diurnal differences had never been an issue. Cirrus, Cumulus, and Sunshine usually stay nocturnal, but Aurora will occasionally switch so she can spend some time with her favorite diurnal and crepuscular ghouls. She finds happiness in the sun, but she will always prefer the dark quiet of the night.

That’s the most vivid similarity between the nocturnal ghouls. They love their peace. They’re all perceived as rather shy, but that’s just in their nature. The quiet helps them feel safe and calm.

The ghouls all wish they could be awake together, but they know that's not the best solution. As they spend more time not on tour, they find balance within all of their schedules. It all blends together so the ghouls all see each other at some time or another. Diurnal and crepuscular ghouls will take naps with nocturnal ghouls as they sleep the day away. Crepuscular ghouls spend a few hours with every single elemental group. Eventually, it becomes fluid. The pack feels very connected once they start to exist cohesively.

[bardic-tales]

Day 26 | Day 28

31 days of FF 7 Headcanons: Day 27: Impact of Jenova

Bianca Moore’s fate was forever entangled with the malignancy of Jenova: a force she came to understand not as a mere entity, but as an ancient infection of mind, heart, and destiny. Unlike Shinra’s scientists who dissected Jenova’s flesh, Bianca’s education came through blood, betrayal, and survival. Her exposure to Jenova cells, forced upon her during the brutal experiments of Project N, an offshoot of the Jenova Project, fundamentally altered her body, mind, and soul.

Rather than collapse under the weight of both Jenova and Sephiroth's manipulation, Bianca evolved beyond Jenova’s design, forging a legacy fueled not by planetary annihilation, but by the twisted, fierce love that Jenova sought to corrupt.

Trigger Warnings: abduction, body horror, emotional manipulation, forced experimentation, graphic medical procedures, loss of autonomy, mind control, psychological trauma, violence

Bianca Moore’s understanding of Jenova is deeply tied to the unraveling of her fate. Though she never directly studied Jenova like Shinra's scientists did, Bianca came to know Jenova as a malignant force: an ancient parasite capable of infiltrating minds, reshaping wills, and corrupting destinies. To Bianca, Jenova is less a creature and more a system of manipulation, a cosmic infection that uses love, ambition, and pain to puppet others. She recognizes that Jenova did not merely influence Sephiroth’s descent. She constructed a framework that allowed his love and hatred to evolve into tools of domination. Bianca’s tragic understanding is that her bond with Sephiroth, once a genuine connection, became a highway for Jenova’s ancient will: a will Bianca now navigates with treacherous awareness.

Bianca’s encounter with Jenova cells was not voluntary. It was forced upon her during the brutal events of Project N. Hojo, obsessed with unlocking the full potential of alien, celestial, and demonic bloodlines, subjected Bianca to live dissection and genetic infusion, intertwining her essence with unstable S-cells and Jenova cells.

Physically, the exposure heightened her already volatile powers, destabilizing her ability to manipulate time, space, and reality. However, the physical mutations came with a price: her body became more unstable, shifting unpredictably between states of celestial sorrow and infernal rage until all that remained was her demonic cells as the alien DNA bonded with it. Mentally, the exposure planted seeds of obsession, sharpening her already intense emotions into something raw and terrifying.

The emotional impact of Jenova's influence was perhaps more profound than the physical. Bianca’s love for Sephiroth, which had once been a complicated but earnest metaphysical bond, twisted into an all-consuming devotion. The tragedy lies in how real her feelings remained, even as they were subtly steered by Jenova’s infection of Sephiroth’s mind and her own. She did not lose herself immediately. Instead, her fall was slow, suffused with the belief that she was choosing love and destiny. Jenova’s manipulation was never about erasing Bianca’s humanity. It was about corrupting her deepest emotions until they served an ancient, apocalyptic purpose, as Bianca would be able to spread the parasite across multiple dimensions and realities with Sephiroth protecting Bianca who now hosted an infection, as well as his own contaminated body.

Despite this corruption, Bianca ultimately transcended the role Jenova intended for her. When Bianca created Aurora and Lucien to assuage the guilt she felt over using the Remnants and leading them to a second Reunion, she did not birth empty vessels of destruction. Bianca birthed gods-in-the-making with wills and loves of their own.

In choosing to protect her children, even from Sephiroth’s cruelty when necessary, Bianca broke free of Jenova’s intended cycle. She became a new infection: one born not of mindless planetary consumption, but of fierce emotion, maternal protection, and deliberate, transformative wrath. The galaxy would still burn. That much was certain, but it would carry her name, not Jenova’s, as its terrifying ruler, giving birth to the dark queen Sephiroth molded her to be: a being terrifying as the dawn.

In the end, Bianca’s experience with Jenova reshaped her permanently, but it did not defeat her. While she was used, twisted, and scarred physically and emotionally, she also learned, adapted, and evolved into something greater. Bianca is a living testament to Jenova’s greatest failure: the underestimation of corrupted but resilient emotion.

Her fall was not a surrender, but a metamorphosis: one that rewrote the legacy Jenova sought to impose. Through the burning remains of worlds, Bianca walks, no longer as a puppet of Jenova, Sephiroth, or even fate, but as a sovereign Queen of a new destiny. A destiny shaped by love, vengeance, and the ruthless will to create anew.

@themaradwrites @shepardstales @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon @projecthypocrisy @serenofroses

[mesosylvania-tlspaulding]

The World of the Antarcticon

Welcome to my far future, ice-free Antarctica, known for now as the “Continent”! This is the setting I'm working on for a future epic fantasy series, code named "The Antarcticon".

The climate, flora and fauna are all unique, and may have been intentionally engineered by a precursor civilization, through science and/or magic. That precursor civilization, human or otherwise, did leave behind artifacts, including a massive basalt tower at the location of the South Pole.

The world is suffused with many types of magics, deriving from the auroras, the stars, and a variety of spirits from other dimensions. 

Monotreme mammals dominate the land (except for humans and a few other placental mammals) all laying eggs and having beaks or bills, but filling the ecosystem niches of placental or marsupial mammals in our world. A monotreme sentient race also exists in several of the large lake and wetland regions. 

Similarly, penguins have speciated into several types of (still-)flightless birds, from large and dangerous terrorbirds, to a domesticated chicken analogue. 

The climate is temperate overall, with equivalents of our temperate deciduous forests and temperate rainforests the most common, except due to elevation. The flora is unique as well, with a wide variety of mosses, lichens, and fungi filling most niches of plants, except for varieties and descendants of our world’s araucaria tree, which is highly dominant.

The Continent and associated islands are separated from the rest of the world by an endless tempest, uncrossable by humans.

Despite being very different from our current day Antarctica, due to climate change and likely a good bit of magic, and possible even alien technologies, one factor remains the same: the extreme polar day/night cycle. In almost all areas, “day” and “summer” are equivalent, while “night” and “winter” are as well, giving a cycle of roughly 5+ months of day, 5+ months of night, and a period of a few weeks of transition during the equinoxes. This has, as you might expect, affected human society quite a bit! In the recent past, before an imperial upset, societies all over tended to respond in major ways to the shift, with some of the possibilities being:

physically relocating en masse to new areas

switching from an egalitarian society to a strictly hierarchical one, or vice versa

otherwise completely adjusting societal structures, such as from matriarchal to patriarchal

speaking in a completely different register of their language, with differing grammar and vocabulary

Technology-wise it is still very much a work in progress, but I will be leaning on and enhancing a blended Paleolithic-meets-the Copper Age-meets-Medieval/Renaissance vibe in the technology levels.

The Languages of Antarctica

Three human language families make up almost all of the currently-known human languages on the Continent, and they all make up a large linguistic area, sharing a few general features:

Ergativity is common, though split systems of various kinds are common as well

Noun class systems that are at least partially inspired by the daysummer/nightwinter cycle, as well as the various kinds of flora and fauna, with some languages having 10+ of these

Shared conceptual metaphors (both used in idioms, as well as to philosophically extend the meanings of the above noun classes)

Common compound word calques, often extended from the conceptual metaphor system

Most common word order: head-first, VSO, prepositions/locative nouns

Prefixing in the verb system most common, this varies a lot by region

Morphological evidentiality is ubiquitous

Daysummer vs Nightwinter evident in grammar and in lexicon

fancified more intense grammar for one phase, colloquial lax vulgar grammar for other phase (which phase is which varies based on language and regional culture)

That's all for now! In the next few posts, I'll start sharing things about specific Antarctic languages!

(And I'll also be making some Conlang Year Updates as well, where I share about the feature that aligns with the current Conlang Year day!)

[rocksanddeadflowers]

It's the winter solstice today so I am again thinking about Lyfrassir celebrating Yule on the Aurora to try and keep Yggdrasilian traditions alive. Hanging up spmistletoe (space mistletoe) or spcedar (space cedar) etc to bring in greenery, or cooking a large traditional feast, maybe they request Marius and other willing mechs to preform Yule carols.

I think specifically Marius would have many feelings about Lyfrassir celebrating Yule, not just bc of the violinspector thing but bc the lore I picked up, Marius is Space German, so he presumably had a variation of Yule in his past. (Also the fanon(?) idea of Marius having written The Wassailant album in his universe, like the Kofi Young album, is chef's kiss btw.)

Just.... Lyf emotionally rambling on about the celebrations they grew up with while Marius teaches them to make Thomas Wheel breads bc he may block out much from his past but he somehow remembered this and it means so much to Lyf that he may as well.

I want the others trying to help the holiday spirit. I want Tim to tell Marius that this is just like Christmas and he should definitely kiss Lyf under the mistletoe bc it's tradition and he rants about Santa Clause bc what do you mean you guys didn't have that? I want Brian to bake gingerbread cookies shaped like octokittens. Raphaella flying around hanging up decor and occasionally scooping up Jonny and forcing him to help (he acts way more upset over it than he actually is). I want the Toy Soldier being compared to nutcrackers but it actually ends up playing Mari Lwyd which, while being mainly Welsh it's close enough and its absolutely lovingly terrifying. Ashes insists on a Yule Log that's an entire tree (Lyf explains that's just an exaggeration or myth but also won't kill their fun). Nastya and Aurora shift the day-night lighting cycles to feel as close to a Midgard winter as possible. Ivy is honestly the only one trying to find genuine traditional celebrations (both out of caring for Lyf and bc she needs this to be accurate period) to help Lyf with.

They pick a night to feast and drink, a few trading presents while they get drunk off of wassail or muled wine and singing different winter holidays carols from each cultural background that had them. Lyf is ever grateful for their newfound family. They're fucked up and frankly quite concerning, but it means the world to find that deep down, in their own way, they all truly care.

[litrumi]

Dumb DayNap Thoughts #9

*Little joke here, but refer to my under-developed, not finished AU idea for this one. Dogday and Catnap are in their "Cycled Forms" (EtherealDog and MatterCat) fighting stronger Shadow Creatures at Night*

EtherealDog, trying to get the enemies' attention: Wait a sec! Hold on, everyone! Before we have to start fighting and probably make things ugly...

MatterCat, listening and suddenly worrying: Oh no...

EtherealDog: Why don't I...

MatterCat, already manifesting sunglasses made from dark matter with his ability:

EtherealDog, charging up for his turn: ...Put on a light show for everyone! Then maybe we can all be friends instead!

MatterCat, putting on the sunglasses and talking to the Shadow Creatures as he waves to them and eats popcorn he pulled out of thin air: Well... It wasn't nice knowing you. Bye.

The surrounding area fills with dazzling, brilliant, and blinding aurora-borealis-like lights that make it hard to see what's going on. But by the end of the light show... There's no trace of the Shadow Creatures anywhere.

EtherealDog, opening his eyes, seeing that the enemies are no longer there: Aw, man! Did they run away again?

MatterCat, patting the dog's back: Y- Yeah... Ran away... Sorry, bud.

EtherealDog, sobbing: Why won't they stick around?! I just wanna end the feud!

MatterCat, thinking to himself: I don't know what's worse. Me lying to him or the fact he doesn't know he's practically disintegrating these guys...

(Bonus)

Dogday, overviewing his stats with curiosity: Everyone keeps asking me why my EXP is almost the same as yours. But we share EXP in fights, don't we?

Catnap, almost choking on his drink, hesitantly nodding: Mhm... So, of course we're at an equal pace.

Dogday, musing: Hm... Yeah, that's what I was thinking too. Oh well, then!

Catnap, sipping loudly and keeping to himself: I may do most of the killing in the day time, but I swear your kill records are in the thousands from the night shift cleanup by now...

The cat shivers from the very thought.

-

[morningstar-chronicles]

my associations - aurora cycle DR

mom | father | dad | luke | jonathan | clary | charlie | sammy

sabine | tom | nicolas | marinette | tj | sebastian | jamie

skara | amelia | amity | cat | pacifica | via | joel | penn | cr guy #1 | cr guy #2 | cr girl #1 | cr girl #2

[syringesyrup]

it’s shark week for me so i’m thinking about how horrible it is for infamous endometriosis havers cirrus and dew (i’m projecting) and how the pack loves to take care of them throughout the week

their cycles are synced up too so they’re a bit attached at the hip during that week and love getting pampered by the other ghouls.

cumulus is insistent on making them plenty of tea and gathering all the heating pads and softest blankets in the ministry for her ghouls 😿 she often gets squished between the two and becomes their personal pillow as she scratches all the right places behind their ears and horns. the ghouls Looove when lulu goes full mama mode and takes care of them (despite dew acting like he doesn’t need it). sunny is always there with her, doing what she can to help and always trying new ways to make them as comfy as they can be throughout the week. she keeps the room clean, helps them bathe if need be, and takes care of their chores.

mountain is always working with aether and phantom to make some remedies that will ease their cramps and irritability. dew Hates being a test subject for these things but he’d rather die than risk one of these things potentially hurting cirrus, so he lets himself be patient zero for whatever the hell the three of them cook up in mountain’s greenhouse. mountain is happy to roll plenty of little joints that will just take the painful edge off of their sore tummies and cramps (he’s also their favorite scratching / kneading post when they’re cuddled up in bed). aether and phantom do their best to ease the pain with some quintessence and help them get some rest throughout the week.

aurora will of course tell dew to SUCK IT UP LIKE A MAN but falls to her knees the moment cirrus gets a cramp. she has a tendency to make biscuits on cirrus’ tummy because she read somewhere that when cats do that, it heals humans. it doesn’t actually help but cirrus likes to see aurora all cuddled up on her and paw at her tummy. she has her gentle moments with dew when it gets bad, holding his hair back if he needs to vomit or even making sure there’s a warm bath waiting for him when he wakes up.

rain is always there to make sure the both of them are getting enough rest and keep them away from their instruments. he insists on them resting and not pushing themselves, especially when he knows the two of them are perfectionists. he will guard the practice room like a dog to make sure the two of them don’t lay a finger on an instrument until the week is over. he’s caught dew by the scruff many times and dragged him back to bed (he’s “punished” with many rain cuddles and kisses)

oh and swiss is just the absolute fucking Worst. seeing dew and cirrus in any kind of pain has him jumping off the walls. he will blow so much money on chocolates and supplies and just the little things that will make them smile. he’ll drain his quintessence just to help them sleep and is a bit of a mother hen during the whole week. he’ll cook any and every meal they ask of him, no matter how complex or expensive it may be. he’s happy to help, especially when he’s rewarded with getting crushed between the two of them and being their personal heating pad.

copia always makes sure to keep their instruments tuned and clean and taken care of throughout the week, perfect by the time the two of them get back to it. he has a habit of buying them little trinkets like swiss does, just little things that will make them happy. he will push aside all of his work just to make sure his ghouls are comfortable and taken care of. he has a habit of telling them bedtime stories as well, stories of his youth and all the trouble he got into that puts a smile on dew and cirrus’ face as they drag him down into bed and constrict around their papa.

they’re such a loving pack and if one of them is in any kind of pain, all the ghouls have their own way of feeling it. while they might not feel those painful ass cramps and sickness, there’s an energy shift that’s enough to set them all off and rush to cirrus and dew’s aid. the two of them Deserve to get pampered for a week anyways, and the rest of the pack is happy to give them plenty of attention and love :,)

[dawn-iscozy]

“ like a cat in a sunny spot ” ♡ vi ♡

 SERIES PLAYLIST: “ swim ” - chase atlantic ♡ “ honey (are u coming?) ” - maneskin ♡ “ the summoning  ” - sleep token ♡ “ soft spot ” - keshi ♡ “ bubbly ” - colbie caillat ♡ “ kiss me ” - ed sheeran ♡ “ cotton candy ” - yungblud ♡

SERIES WARNINGS: poly, eventual ot8, named oc - “Rora”, derived from “Aurora” (soooooo original, I know), who is basically a self-insert (i’m still on the brink of denial about it). loooots of nicknames/pet names, and even more as the fic progresses (if you read the “a little warmth in winter” you’ll know most of the names already 🤭). things move pretty quickly in this, and it may stray vaguely into soulmate au territory but, like, I’m a sucker for these men and for the way I’ve written them and I just can’t stop.

apologies in advance if the timeline doesn’t make any sense, I’m going purely on vibes and my affection for these 8 men. idk if it deserves a warning, but scents are mentioned a lot in some parts and kinda littered through the rest of the fic (using scent profiles from a perfume/fragrance site that has a line of scents called “Smells Like a Hug From Ateez” and very limited knowledge of fragrances the members may have previously used/just the vibes they give off)

WORD COUNT: 9k

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS:  period/menstrual cycle, food, a lot of food actually, and lots of kissing, fluffyfluffyfluffyyyyy, unrealistically fitting three sleeping adults in one bed, overuse of the word “waffle”, discussions of relationship status, blushing lots of blushing, and giggling lots of giggling, just really cute, some hints of spice,  “doll”, yungiyungiYUNGI, domestic-ish woo, hongjoong split-dye and tattoo, hongjoong wears makeup AND glasses, woo makes a daddy joke, mxm adjacent jokes, some name calling, collar joke, woo likes it when joong is mean to him (we been knew), and apparently so does rora

♡ 18+ - no smut, but still MDNI ♡

vi: blankets of warmth

The three of them stayed over at her apartment much longer than they probably should have on a weeknight, and she ended up falling asleep, sandwiched between Yeosang and San on the over-stuffed sofa. She didn’t know how she ended up there, but she assumed that San’s legs were going numb like her own were and she had moved herself (likely against a slew of complaints from San) there. She had also somehow wiggled her way out of San’s hoodie, using it, instead, as a makeshift blanket for her curled up legs. 

Rora woke up once, finding her cheek pressed against Yeosang’s tense shoulder and her arms looped around one of his to hold it close to her chest. She mumbled out apologies, muffled and slurred even to her own sleepy ears, fumbling and ultimately failing to sit up. Giving up to mumble more apologies and rest her head right back where it was.

He chuckled, relaxed back into the sofa, his cheek pressed lightly against her hair. “It’s okay,” Yeosang murmured in his soft, low voice. She almost groaned at the sound of it. His voice reminded her of a warm lullaby on a stormy night just as much as it reminded her of hazy summer nights, leaving her swimming in a slow, sleepy warmth that worked its way up her back in a lazy crawl to settle in her fuzzy brain.

A huff warmed the side of her neck, and she became aware of a weight on her shoulder. San fell asleep, too, it seemed. She blinked the sleep away as best as she could and sighed. “Do you want me to move?” she asked, tongue still heavy in her mouth. 

“It’s okay,” Yeosang repeated. “Do you want to go to bed? Jjong and I could get you and San all tucked in and leave you to sleep.”

She whined. “No. Stay.” She snuggled further into his warmth, and he tensed at the move before relaxing into a soft laugh that warmed her from the inside. 

“You’re just as clingy as Woo and San,” he said softly, shaky fingers pushing strands of her hair out of her face. 

“Cozy,” she simply murmured, and he gave a low chuckle. 

Rora felt a shift in the air around her, a brief breeze carrying a certain cologne she had long-since grown familiar with - warm and strong with surprising notes of sweetness - and she blinked her heavy eyes open to see Jongho crouched down in front of them. “Let’s at least lay you down, hmm?” he murmured. 

She nodded, rubbing her eyes with her fists and reaching out for him. “Carry me?” she asked, too sleepy to care that she was asking her coworker to do such a thing. 

He all but cooed at her, gummy smile on full display. “C’mere, precious,” he said, pushing the bulky sweater from her lap and pulling her into his arms. 

Yeosang’s hands were on her back then the backs of her thighs, aiding in lifting her into Jongho’s arms safely, then helping her wrap her legs around his friend’s waist securely. “There you go,” he murmured with a lingering touch to her waist. 

She sighed, letting herself fully rely on Jongho’s strength, arms around his neck and her head resting on his shoulder, clinging to him like a koala. “Home?” Rora asked. 

“Do I have to go home?” he clarified. She nodded, and his hands smoothing up her thighs, fingers locking together to support her below her bottom. “I probably should, but I can stay if you want me to.”

“Both?” 

There was a pause, and she imagined Jongho and Yeosang looking at each other for a moment, talking between each other without actually talking in that way that long-term friends seem to be able to do. Jongho released a breath through his nose and hiked her higher up in his hold. “We both can stay, yes,” Jongho finally said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

She hummed, letting the sway of his walk and the tight grip he had on her lull her into near unconsciousness. Mere moments later Rora jolted, whining when she was placed atop cold sheets and gripping onto Jongho’s sweater in displeasure. 

“I know, precious,” Jongho soothed, his warm hands gripping her own, thumb running over the backs of them until her fingers unclasped. “There you go, good girl.”

A shiver worked down her spine at that, her breath huffing out of her in surprise. She wasn’t sure when he had become so bold with her or why, but she liked it. A lot, if the way her heart sped up in her chest was any indicator. 

Jongho hummed, pressing her shoulders lightly to get her to lay down. She shivered again, blinking open her heavy eyes to look up at him through her lashes, hoping he couldn’t read her probably very obvious arousal, though it was also very dampened by sleepiness. He stared right back, tucked her hair behind her ear, those sparkly eyes taking in her every expression. “Sang, just leave San and get over here. He’ll be fine” he said, shuffling the blankets until they were all the way pulled back.

Rora’s gaze drifted over Jongho’s shoulder, unable to hold his gaze any longer, and watched as Yeosang laid San down on the sofa and draped her throw blanket over him, tucking a pillow between his friend’s arms. Amusement swelled in her when the buff man snuggled into the soft fabric of her throw pillow, tamped down only by the sight of Yeosang pulling off his jacket. He wore a simple t-shirt underneath, but it looked like it was made specifically for him, clinging to his chest and shoulders, revealing toned arms. 

“He’s going to be sulky when he wakes up in the morning,” Yeosang mused, walking over to her bed. He stopped next to Jongho, fingers pushing her hair back from her face lightly. She could feel them trembling against her skin, and she wanted to take them between her hands to steady them. Instead, she turned her face into his touch. “Can I come up, angel?”

“Please,” she breathed out, shifting around to get comfy as he climbed into her bed, followed by Jongho. Her bed wasn’t the largest, and they were pressed closely together, but she was happy. She turned onto her side, facing Yeosang and humming happily when Jongho’s arm draped around her waist. “Is nice,” she murmured, leaving some space between their bodies.

That didn’t last long. Yeosang chuckled lightly, hand brushing through his hair. “Get comfy, angel,” he murmured, pressing her face into his chest. 

She rubbed her cheek against the swelling muscle beneath her, letting her leg drape over his own as Jongho snuggled closer to her back. She giggled as his face nuzzled into the back of her neck, his breath tickling her skin. 

“S’nice.” Rora sighed sleepily, letting her arms slip over Yeosang’s waist, finding where his shirt hiked up, relishing in the feeling of his warm skin beneath her fingertips. He shivered at her touch before relaxing into it, breath puffing out in a sigh. 

“Must be if you’re repeating yourself,” Jongo teased, hand squeezing her hip in a way that had a moan bubbling in her chest. Jongho laughed as the soft sound filled the quiet space, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he rubbed circles into her skin and hushed her, lulling her right into unconsciousness. 

The sleep was by no means the best she had ever had. She woke up several more times, overheating from a mixture of body heat and the hormonal overload her period tended to have on her body. But she couldn’t find it in herself to be grumpy. Rather, she laid there, dozing away in her bed, luxuriating in being stuck in between Yeosang and Jongho. She was too warm, having wiggled her shirt up and her blanket down as much as she could without pulling it off her current bedmates too much. And her body hurt, having gone a little too long without another dose of ibuprofen to tamp down the band of cramps encircling her torso, hips, and thighs. 

There was a meow and a broken, sleep-addled groan, and she turned to see Teddy kneading at San’s ample chest. She giggled, watching as San stretched his arms over his head, shirt straining and riding up to expose his belly. Teddy harrumphed at being disrupted in his very important work, and San gave a soft chuckle, patting the kitty on his little head. 

Rora shifted around, propping herself up, cheek against Jongho’s sternum, letting his steady heartbeat lull her back into the fuzzy feeling of barely-awake as she watched San. His fingers wiggled in the air, the cat pawing at them lightly before deciding he didn’t want to play and instead, went back to kneading, drawing sounds of adoration and giggles and groans she was sure were the result of her cuddly kitty’s over-enthusiastic claws pricking at skin. 

“I can feel you watching me,” San mused when the cat finally stilled, curling up on his chest. San scratched behind Teddy’s ear until the cat tilted his head in bliss. His following smile was dopey with the remnants of sleep, and when he turned his head to catch her, she couldn’t help but keep staring at him. 

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Mhm,” San hummed. “Would have been better with you beside me, though.” 

A snicker came from beside her, and the bed shifted. “You say that, but she tossed and turned all night,” Yeosang said, letting his hand slip up the back of her shirt as he settled back down, the tickle of his fingers ridding any bite from his words. His voice cracked, still heavily laced with sleep, that endearing lisp heavier than it was last night. But it was so deliciously low that she wanted to rub against him like a cat. Wanted him to pin her down and speak right into her ear. 

She had to control herself from pressing herself back, her finger sinking into the fabric of Jongho’s sweater, bunching it up in her fists. The material rode up his torso until the sleep-warm skin of his belly pressed against her bare arm pleasantly. She caught the moment he fully awoke, the brief spike in his heart rate, how it picked up even more when he seemed to register her body against his own

Yeosang groaned behind her, the bed shifting again as he rolled closer to her, his hand slipping around her waist to caress up and down her sides. “Good morning,” he said in that wonderfully deep voice.  

Her breath hitched, and the chest beneath her rumbled in amusement. “Breathe, precious,” Jongho murmured, hand rubbing at the back of her neck fingers pushing up into her hair. She forced herself to take a breath, only to choke on it when he continued. “Sangie’s got a nice voice, though, hmm?” 

Her cheeks flared with heat, and she flopped back down between them, pulling the blanket up over her head. “Calling me out first thing in the morning? Really?” she whined. “In my own home?”

The three men laughed, and Jongho pushed himself up to sitting. She peeked out from beneath the blanket to see him looking wonderfully sleep rumpled. His hair stuck up in places, cheeks red and lined from the pillow, and she wanted to snuggle up to him. 

“I’m sorry I tossed around so much,” Rora said, bunching the blanket up in her arms to hug it against her chest, legs tucked in close. “I kept getting too warm.” 

“It isn’t really something you could help, darling,” San said, despite not being the affected party. She blinked when he plopped down on the bed, not having heard him coming closer, and giggled when he sprawled out across everyone’s legs. The two didn’t even react, seemingly used to dealing with such behaviors. 

She let the blanket go with a wistful sigh. “I want waffles,” she suddenly mumbled out. 

San sat up, now settled entirely on Jongho. Jongho groaned when San turned to her so quickly the bed jerked. “Waffles?” he repeated excitedly, ignoring his friend’s pain entirely.

“Yeeessss,” she groaned, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. “With strawberries and waaaaay too much whipped cream.” 

“Let’s go get some, then,” Jongho said, pushing his friend off him with a huff. “I’ll pay.” 

San yelped as he fell to the floor, but sat up at Jongho’s words, peeking over the bed like a meerkat. “Baby bear’s gonna pay? What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” 

Rora giggled as he all but jumped up from the floor. He landed lightly for such a muscled man, but loud enough to startle Teddy awake from where he was now curled up on the sofa. San pushed and pulled his friends out of the bed, but stopped when he got to her. Sent her a dimpled smile that all but dazzled her and carefully helped her out of the bed. 

“Slow down, Sannie,” she giggled, falling right into his chest when her feet hit the floor. “Let me at least go pee before you rush us out.” 

San pouted. And she couldn’t help but lift up on her toes to press a kiss to his plush lips, morning breath be damned. He sighed, pulling her closer and delving a hand into her hair to hold her in place, kissing her back, over and over until someone cleared their throat. 

She was breathless when San pulled away, cheeks warm and lips parted, and she melted entirely at his smug expression. “Hurry to the bathroom so we can go get those waffles,” he said, ushering her in the direction of her bathroom. 

She was quick in freshening up and getting ready to leave the apartment, simply washing her face, brushing her teeth, and slipping into her comfiest pair of ripped jeans. Deodorant on, and she was ready to go. 

Not even half an hour later, they were at a cozy little breakfast cafe near her apartment building, fresh-made waffles and drinks in front of them. Her and San sat on one side of a booth, with Yeosang and Jongho on the other. She took a moment to just stare at the wonderful delicacy on the plate before her, the golden brown waffle covered in mounds of whipped cream and a river of strawberry syrup, a bowl of fresh-cut strawberries right next to her plate. She constructed the perfect bite, moaning as she chewed it. Heck, it had been a long time since Rora had a good waffle. 

“Is it that good?” San asked, cutting into his own, covered in slices of banana and drizzles of Nutella. She didn’t have to respond when he took a bite and leaned forward into the table with a groan. “Oh, hell yes,” he mumbled. 

Muffled sounds of amusement filled the booth at that. She giggled and grabbed the mug in front of her, taking a careful drink of her hot chocolate. Her eyes found Yeosang in front of her, but she shied away when he noticed her looking. His shoulders shook, though he covered up any laughter with a cough before trying his own waffle. His eyes widened, and she giggled, leaning over the table a bit. 

“Can I try it?” Rora asked, eyeing the chopped nuts, banana slices, and drizzles of honey on his waffle. She watched as he constructed a bite for her, making sure it had a bit of everything before reaching over the table, hand under his fork to feed it to her. Her cheeks went red, but she leaned forward to accept the bite, brain all but short circuiting when his thumb brushed over her lower lip to scoop up some escaped whipped cream. 

Her eyes widened, and Jongho and San laughed at her expression. Yeosang shied away almost immediately after, ears going red, and Jongho patted him on the shoulder, still laughing. It took a minute for everyone to calm back down, but once they did, Jongho cleared his throat. 

“So,” Jongho murmured, setting his fork and knife down on his barely-eaten waffle. Bits of whipped cream clung to the silver, smearing on the table when the knife slid from the plate. He busied himself with wiping up the mess, refusing to look up even as he spoke. “What exactly is this…situation?” 

“Does it really need a label right now?” San asked, leaning back in the seat with his arms crossed over his chest. He would have looked defensive if his face weren’t so placid, eyes understanding as they looked at his youngest friend. 

Jongho shook his head, brows furrowing. “No, no. I’m not trying to say that. I - ” He looked like he might have had more to say, teeth nibbling the inside of his lip and cheek. But he let a breath out, just looked down at his food, cut a piece from his waffle. She watched him scoop up some whipped cream and stewed cinnamon apples and pile it on his fork. “I’m just curious,” he murmured, raising the bite to his mouth. 

“Jongho,” Rora started gently, reaching across the table. She left her hand there, just resting on the table in front of him, palm up. He stared at it for a moment before looking up at her, swallowing the food in his mouth. She couldn’t read his expression, but she sent him a gentle smile when his hand settled in hers. “Bear, we can’t read your mind. Whatever you have to say can be said. We won’t judge you. You know that, don’t you?” 

Yeosang’s hand settled lightly on Jongho’s back, though it hesitated before finally making contact. She imagined such physical reassurance may not be a regular thing for Yeosang to offer Jongho, and the move - Yeosang pushing himself to physically reassure his friend - filled her with warmth. The way this group of men so obviously cared for each other was absolutely precious. 

“I don’t know if what you have going on with the others is just casual or what, and I honestly don’t care as long as everyone is comfortable and not getting hurt.” he paused, put his fork down, settled his free hand in his lap to straighten his posture and look directly at her. “But I don’t want ‘just casual’ with you.”

The breath rushed out of her, and she felt herself melting. “What do you want, then?” she asked, squeezing his hand lightly. 

He exhaled, let go of her hand to shove his hair back from his face. “I don’t know,” he murmured. 

“And that’s okay,” she said, letting her hand settle in her lap. “You don’t have to know right now.” 

San shifted beside her, and she turned to look at him. “This doesn’t feel casual to me, either,” he said. “Not really. I don’t think we necessarily need a label, but I like whatever this is. I wanna keep doing it. I wanna take you out on dates and get to know you more, whether that’s on my own or with everyone else.” 

She melted into his side, and couldn’t stop the grin from forming on her face. “Should we have a group meeting about this?” The question was mostly a joke, but there was a certain level of seriousness that she knew they heard. She turned to look at Yeosang, and her cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Sangie.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. His head tilted, and he gave her a little smile. “Drag me in all you want. In whatever capacity.” 

Shyness and excitement warred away in Rora’s chest, and she wanted to squeal and squirm and hide all at once. Instead, she took another drink of hot chocolate, letting the warmth of it soothe her. 

San and Jongho chuckled, seeming to read her face. “She might ask you to drag her, actually,” San mused. 

Her head whipped around, and Rora settled him with a pout. “Sannie,” she whined. 

He simply laughed and slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer against him, as if that were even possible. She didn’t fight it, enjoying the warmth coming off of him and letting her head fall on his shoulder. 

“Let’s meet up this weekend,” Jongho suggested, leaning back in the booth, his arm stretching along the back of the seat behind Yeosang. “All of us.” 

San nodded. “We can introduce you to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, too.”

“Sounds fun,” she said happily, cheeks rubbing against San’s shoulder in an attempt to settle the nervous excitement flooding her at the suggestion. Her eyes glanced over the two men sitting in front of her, coming to stop on Yeosang. She grinned when he sent her a little smile. “I can get to know Sangie some more, too.”

♡♡♡

The rest of that week went by in a blur of work, cramps, and fatigue. Work was busier than it had been since she started working there - or maybe she was just slower than usual - and the men took turns visiting her, or vice versa. 

Tuesday night, Wooyoung showed up at her apartment in a zip-up that swallowed him in the most endearingly cool way and bags of takeout dangling from his fingers. They ate, talked over the drone of whatever show they had decided to watch and subsequently ignored in favor of talking (kissing), and ended up tangled together on her bed. Fully clothed save for the hoodie that she had discarded with quick fingers, lips following to litter his neck and pretty collarbones with kisses and nips until his tan skin was covered in the evidence that she was there and his groans filled her apartment. Until Teddy got annoyed with a lack of attention on him, jumping on them and sending them both into fits of giggles, fussing over the kitty until he fell asleep between them. And she asked him to stay, tracing the marks she left on his skin until his eyelids fluttered and his voice dropped low with sleep, his hands reaching out to pull her closer as he lost the fight against consciousness.

They woke up to her alarm, groaning at the same time, bursting into sleepy giggles together. She littered his face with kisses, telling him to just go back to sleep if he didn’t have anywhere to go. He could stay as long as he wanted to, just don’t leave the apartment a mess. It made for a lovely change to her morning routine, having Wooyoung there when she woke. Waking him up. He got out of bed when she finished getting ready, wrapping her up in a hug and kissing her in a way that left her feeling warm even after she left for work. 

Feeling more energized than she usually would on a Wednesday morning, she sought out Jongho to ask him if it would be okay for her to skip lunch with him. The answer was yes, but told her that she would have to make up for it later with that mischievous smile that she was growing to adore. That’s how she found herself at Yunho and Mingi’s cafe, hair damp from the misty afternoon weather and cheeks hurting with the force of her smile when they greeted her. 

Mingi bound over to her before the door had even shut behind her, pulling her off her feet to swing her around until she was shrieking and clinging to him. Yunho’s laughter filled her ears when Mingi finally let her go, and she turned to see him leaning against the counter with a wide grin on his face. They closed for lunch early and brought her back to watch Mingi whip them all something up to eat. Actually eating was a cozy affair, the two tall men cramming themselves into one of the raised spaces with her between them. Mingi bumped his head at least twice while trying to climb into the space, and Yunho soothed the pain from his friend with a tender touch that had Mingi (and her) all but giggling and kicking his feet. The food Mingi made was delicious. But it was even better being able to kiss the taste from their mouths, their big hands wandering up and down her body until she was warm and shivering and keening into the quiet of the cafe.

She was in Yunho’s lap, devouring his mouth, Mingi at her back, lips on her neck and hands anchoring her to his friend’s lap when her phone started vibrating. They sent her off to work with lingering kisses and longing gazes and whispered promises to see each other again soon and sweet ‘have a good day’s in kiss-slurred voices that left her walking on clouds for the rest of the day, much to Jongho’s amusement.

Thursday turned out to be Jongho’s turn. As she was leaving her apartment, she saw him waiting outside, coffees in hand and his bag slung over his shoulder. Her heart fluttered in her chest when she asked him what he was doing there, cheeks flushing when he handed one of the coffees (iced americano, of course) and claimed this was how he wanted to cash in that promised extra time together.

They went to work together. They had lunch together. He even walked her home at the end of the day, stayed a little to play with Teddy and relax with a show playing in the background. It was well after dark by the time he left, offering her a hug when she walked him to the door and a barely-there kiss to the top of her head.

She thought Friday was going to be chill, that the day was going to happen as it usually would before she met this group of men. However, when Jongho dragged her away from her computer for lunch, she found Yeosang sitting at their usual table, looking adorably lost but nonetheless happy as he waited for Jongho to come back. He pushed her into his friend’s space and promptly followed it up by invading her space, stuffing the three of them into a bench that could fit two people comfortably but certainly not three fully grown adult humans. 

It was nice, though. She was happy, sitting in between them as they bickered. Or more like Jongho teased Yeosang and he let it all roll off his back with the occasional sharp retort in response. No kisses, but she let herself lean into them, her head on Yeosang’s shoulder and her hand finding Jongho’s beneath the table until a coworker, one of the women who had talked her into going out last Friday night walked by with raised brows and curious eyes. 

If the two men could feel the tension suddenly in her shoulders or noticed the way she went quiet - quieter than she had been before - they didn’t say anything. Didn’t push her for more physical contact or to interact with their warm teasing. They let her be, and she was thankful. 

Rora had never been so social in her life, nor had she ever felt so exhausted by the end of a week. No matter how much fun she had with them, there was only so much energy she could expend, especially through the work week. Needless to say, she was more than relieved when Saturday rolled around and she was finally able to rest, even if only for a few hours. 

No more period. No expectations. No visitors. 

A slow, quiet morning, just her and her kitty, really could work wonders. 

She slept in as long as she could. Lounged in bed, reading on her phone with Teddy keeping her feet warm. Opened a window to let the cool morning breeze sweep through her apartment. Made a yummy breakfast and some pour-over iced coffee, and she ate it while watching YouTube videos she hadn’t been able to watch through the week.

It was the most relaxing morning she’d had in a while. But by noon, she found herself feeling bored. Way past bored, even. The groan that came from her throat when a knock sounded on her door was way more relieved than she thought it would be just a few hours before. When she opened the door to see the two tallest friends standing side by side in the hall, she all but jumped on the taller one.

“Hello to you too,” Yunho huffed out through a chuckle, large hands holding her up by her bottom. “Miss me or something?”

“Something,” she said, pressing her face into his neck when he hiked her higher in his hold and pushed into her apartment. “I was so bored,” she groaned, nuzzling against his skin, enjoying the smell of his soap, the softness and freshness on him. The warmth. Just so like him, how he made her feel. “You came at the perfect time.” 

“Oh, so we’re just entertainment for you? Is that it?”

Rora simply hummed, nose pressing against his jaw. She couldn’t help but start giggling when Yunho gripped her thighs tighter in retaliation, and her lips met his cheek in a soft kiss. 

Mingi laughed, and she turned her head to look at him. “Hi, Mingi.”

“Hi,” he said, chuckling, patting her head until she let out a content sigh.

She whined as Yunho settled her feet back on the ground, but turned to lead him and Mingi further into her apartment. She ushered them over to sit on the couch, giggling when instead of letting her sit in between them, Yunho pulled her into his lap. “As happy as I am that you’re here, why are you here so early? I thought we weren’t all meeting until this evening?”

“Maybe I wanted some alone time with you before I had to share you with everyone.” 

“Mingi is also here,” she pointed out, fingers kneading at Yunho’s broad shoulders.

“So he is,” Yunho mused, slouching further in his seat so that she was seated fully on his lap, her feet hanging off the edge of the sofa and her knees on either side of his hips. His lips spread in a smirk as he let his head fall back to rest on the back of the sofa, exposing his jaw and the expanse of his throat. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip as she fought back the desire to litter the smooth skin with kisses. “He wanted some time with you, too. So I decided to have some mercy on him.” 

“Oh?”  Rora blinked herself out of her thoughts and turned to look at Mingi, lounging next to them, those thick thighs spread wide, fiddling with his ring-covered fingers in between them. He sent her a close-lipped smile when he noticed her gaze on him, those plush lips flattening out until a dimple showed. She beckoned him closer, turning his head by his chin to plant a kiss right over the dip in his cheek. 

Mingi grinned, whole face scrunching up until his eyes were forced closed with the force of it, and giggled - fucking giggled - and she melted, wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him in for a hug, squeezing him against her chest until his giggles turned into full, booming laughs and he pushed her away until she sat fully in Yunho’s lap once more.

“Find some self-restraint, doll,” Mingi said, thumb ghosting over her cheekbone. His words held no bite to them, and she didn’t feel anything more than content at having made him laugh so hard. She hummed when he scooted closer, head falling to rest on Yunho’s shoulder as his hand smoothed down her back. 

She shivered when his knuckle rubbed up the line of her spine, hand coming to rest on her nape, fingers playing with the loose strands of her hair. Yunho’s arms wrapped loosely around her hips, warm fingers dipping beneath her shirt to touch her skin, and she let her hands come to rest on his chest. 

She looked between the two of them. Whoever said they had never seen two pretty best friends was a liar, she thought, nibbling her bottom lip. Her eyes dropped down to Yunho’s mouth, breath kicking up as the urge to lean forward suddenly filled her. Her hands fisted Yunho’s shirt when her eyes flicked over to Mingi, catching on those gorgeous lips. His tongue poked out, swiped over his lower lip, and she was stuck there, unable to look away from the glossy plush of them. 

“What?” Yunho asked, fingers kneading her lower back in a way that had her wanting to let her eyes roll back. “Wanna kiss him, honey?” 

Rora nodded, unable to look away. Her skin pebbled with goosebumps when Yunho’s hand slid up her back, pressing right over Mingi’s on the back of her neck, those long fingers tangling in her hair as he pushed her head down. She whimpered, practically trembling as Mingi’s warm breath washed over her face. 

“Use your words, doll,” Mingi murmured, brushing his nose against hers. 

She wanted to whine, her lips practically trembling as his own brushed over them. “Yes,” she said, breathless. “Yes, I wanna kiss. Please.” 

A groan rumbled from Yunho’s chest, vibrating against her hands, and she wanted to squirm and rub herself against both of the men in front of her. 

Mingi pulled her closer by his grip on her nape, and finally his lips were on hers. Soft at first, then firm, lips parting her own so that his tongue could dip between them. A soft noise escaped her throat, and she shifted closer, slipping a hand into his hair. He let her tip his head back, leaning further up on her knees, pulling that thick bottom lip into her mouth.

Yunho’s hands settled on her hips, lips ghosting her neck. She thanked herself for wearing a tanktop that morning when his teeth nibbled at her collarbones. She moaned into Mingi’s mouth, teeth tugging before releasing his lip and diving in for another kiss. She didn’t care that she was almost out of breath or that she was starting to grind herself down into Yunho’s lap. She didn’t want to stop kissing Mingi. 

Her hand fisted his hair, and he groaned, hand tightening further on her neck in a way that had her body flushing with heat, heart racing. Her chest felt heavy with the need to breathe, and Rora pulled away from him, panting. 

A hand came to her face, grasping her chin and turning her head to look at Yunho. He looked over her face, taking in the flush of her cheeks and the sheen of spit on her lips. She shivered under his gaze, breath hitching as he leaned closer, lips parting, slotting against her own. 

The doorbell sounded, a knock following right after. Yunho groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating down her throat and right down her spine, sending her whining and grinding down into his lap. Yunho groaned again, grip tightening on her before he pushed at Mingi to go open the door, refusing to allow her to move away from him. His hand tangled in her hair, pulled her closer with a tight grip that had her gasping right into his mouth.

Cursing from beside her had her detaching herself from Yunho’s mouth, and she turned to see Wooyoung standing there, hands in the pockets of his baggy pants. “Youngie,” she breathed, the name coming out practically on a moan as Yunho’s mouth latched onto her neck, licking, nipping, sucking on the skin there. 

“You do look exquisite right now, sweetheart,” he said, chuckling. The sound of it was breathy, his voice low, almost a rasp, reminding her of all the dirty, dirty things he had said to her just a week ago. He cleared his throat, swallowed, shifted on his feet, eyes darting all over her. His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth, head tilting like he was thinking about something. But only a moment later, he sent her a smile. “But I was hoping to have your help shopping for dinner.”

Yunho grunted, arms wrapping around her middle to pull her flush against him. “No,” he said, burying his face in her chest, teeth still nipping at her exposed skin. 

Rora giggled, brushing her hands through his hair. “Yunho,” she said, dipping down to kiss his temple and nuzzle at his ear. “You can have me later, hmm?” 

He groaned again, but loosened his hold on her, head falling back heavily. “Yeah?” he asked, eyes roaming around her face, lip pulled between his teeth. 

“Mhm,” she hummed, pressing another kiss to his tempting mouth before clambering up from his lap. 

“Would tell you to get dressed, but I quite like this look,” Wooyoung said, running a finger under the thin strap of her top, down over the swell of her breasts. His hands then dropped down to her hips, where the top rode up to expose the skin at her hips, thumbs dipping below the waistband of her loosest sweatpants. 

“I’m gonna get ready,” she said, tugging his head down to press a kiss to his nose. Pulling away, she giggled at his expression, at the red now dusting his cheeks and his wide, pretty eyes. One more kiss, this time to his lips, and she looked around at the other two, both now settled on the couch. “Be good for just 20 minutes, hmm?” she said, brow raised. 

Wooyoung laughed and pushed her toward the bathroom. “Sure, sweetheart. Just hurry uuuup,” he whined. 

She huffed but shut the door and hurried through freshening up and dressing herself in another tank top and some comfy cargo pants, throwing a zip-up on over top. Rora was struggling to clip on a layered necklace when she stepped back into the living room, fingers unable to work properly without the use of her sight. She was pouting, brows furrowing as she tried once more and failed to get the hook through the correct link. 

“Need some help?” Mingi’s deep voice piped up. 

She nodded, coming to stop in front of where the three men were sitting. Well, Mingi and Yunho were sitting. Wooyoung had thrown himself over both of them, lying across their laps. Mingi indicated for her to turn around, and she turned her back to them, holding her hair out of the way. His warm fingers brushed the skin of her neck, collecting the ends of the necklace where they rested. He was quick about it, and he was turning her around by her hips in just a few moments, eyes dropping to where the chunky-ish chain rested at the base of her throat, the delicate chain across her chest, the little thundercloud hanging between her breasts. 

“I like this,” he said, fingering lightly at the chain at her throat. “It looks good on you.”

“I fixed them all together myself,” Rora said, beaming at the compliment. “It’s my favorite.”

He hummed but didn’t say anything further, fingers pressing gently against the pendant between her breasts, thumb brushing her skin until goosebumps prickled her skin. 

She took a steadying breath and took a step back, watching Mingi’s ring-decorated hand fall to rest atop a thick thigh. “Ready?” she asked Wooyoung, who looked entirely too comfortable laying on his friends, phone resting on his belly as he watched the interaction between her and Mingi. 

He visibly perked up, rolling out of his friends’ laps. They both groaned in pain, and he snickered at them as he stood. “Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand to drag her to the door. 

“Oh!” he paused, turning to her at the top of the stairwell. “I hope you don’t mind, but Hongjoong is driving.” 

“That’s fine,” she said. But her heart stuttered in her chest at the thought of meeting another of the friends, and she wasn’t sure if it was more out of nervousness or excitement. A mix of both, surely. She gripped his hand as they exited the building, and she took a breath when he squeezed her fingers back. 

He led her to a car parked close to the door, a man sitting behind the wheel and vibing to music she couldn’t quite make out through the opened windows. He pushed black and blond split-dyed hair back, the sleeve of his oversized shirt sliding down to reveal a tattoo on the inside of his bicep. His hands stayed there, fingers playing with the strands until they sat the way he wanted them to, staring intently into the rearview mirror. 

His eyes slid away from his own reflection to land on her and Woo, and she gripped the hand in hers tighter. As seemed to be the theme with this friend group, his eyes were pretty. Gorgeous even. Dark and shiny, even behind the large transparent frame of his glasses. She noticed smudges of makeup on his lids when he blinked, plump lips shining with a layer of lip balm as they stretched out into a smile. 

Rora looked away from his face, blushing, and she spied some beaded necklaces hanging from his neck. Pearls and yellow smiley faces and daisies. They were so pretty, and she wanted to ask where he got them so she could get one for herself. Or steal one from him. She almost giggled at the thought, but contained it as Wooyoung opened the back door and pushed her to climb inside. She watched in amused surprise as he climbed in behind her, urging her to sit on the other side and shutting the door a little too loudly.

“Rora, Hongjoong. Joong, Rora,” Wooyoung said, slouching into the seat and pulling his belt across his body. He looked at her at the other end of the back seat and pouted. “No, no. Come sit in the middle.” 

“You’re the one that pushed me over here,” she said, though she did as he said - whined, more like - letting him pull the seatbelt across her lap and buckle it in. He settled back into his own seat with a passing kiss to her chin, and her heart stuttered at the sweet gesture. She couldn’t stop the smile from coming to her face as she got comfy in her seat, enjoying the feeling of having his arm and thigh pressed against her own as she looked forward.  

Her gaze caught Hongjoong’s in the rearview mirror, his pretty eyes crinkling with a shy smile before he focused on backing out of the parking lot. “Nice to finally meet you,” he said, starting to maneuver out of the parking lot. The smile fell from his face as he focused on driving, dark eyes shining in the sunlight, tongue wetting the corners of his mouth in concentration. 

Perfect, white teeth gleamed as his lips parted in a smirk, tongue wetting the corner of his mouth again, and she let out a shaky exhale, looking away, knowing she had been caught staring. Her eyes fell on Woo, who was looking at her with raised brows and narrowed, playful eyes. “I know he’s pretty, but I’m here too, sweetheart.” 

She pushed him away from her only to hide her face in his shoulder when he swayed right back into her space. He laughed, hand patting the back of her head to soften the blow of his joke. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said. “He likes the attention.” 

“Sounds a bit like you’re projecting, Woo,” Hongjoong murmured, turning into the lot of the grocery store.

“Maybe a little,” he said, not a single ounce of shame to be found. “But that doesn’t take away the truth of the matter.”

Hongjoong simply hummed and parked, turning the key to shut off the vehicle. 

“Are you coming in too?” Wooyoung asked, unbuckling and pushing the door open. 

Hongjoong shook his head, lounging back in the seat, long lashes fluttering before his lids fell shut. “I was up too late with work last night. I’m gonna stay here, try to get a nap in.” His words were already trailing off, slurring toward the end, and she couldn’t help but giggle as she got out of the car. As she shut the door behind her, Rora noticed a sleepy smile on his face. 

She turned to follow Wooyoung into the store, giddiness filling her chest when his hand grabbed hers, fingers slipping between her own smoothly. She swung their hands as they walked, enjoying the breeze in her hair and the warmth of the sun on her face. Enjoying being with him. 

“What does Hongjoong do for work?” she asked as Wooyoung got a cart.

His head tilted as they walked, his forearms resting against the front of the cart as he started at a leisurely pace. He hummed. “He does a lot of things for work,” he said, standing straight to push his hair back. She watched the soft strands fluff up and then settle back in place, her own fingers twitching with the urge to push through his hair. “Every hobby he picks up somehow ends up becoming a way for him to make some cash. But his most consistent work is helping out at Yunho and Mingi’s cafe and his music. That’s probably what he was up doing last night.” 

She nodded, absorbing it all in when a thought struck her. “Wait, what do you do for work?” she asked, brows furrowing. “And everyone else, for that matter.”

Woo laughed, a low lighthearted sound, and reached out to tangle his fingers with the bottom of her zip-up. “I work as a dance instructor,” he said, steering the cart toward the produce section. He grinned when she expressed her surprise and awe. “Sannie works at a flower shop, mainly. Yeo is still a student, studying broadcasting and entertainment. As he should, cause seriously, look at the man. He deserves to be on television screens across the nation. But he picks up work wherever we need him to. Unsurprisingly, San, Joong, and Yeo also get a decent amount of modeling gigs. As they should.”

Rora hummed in agreement, nodding. That did make sense. They were all gorgeous. 

“You know Mingi and Yunho have the cafe, but sometimes they help out at the dance academy. All of them do, really, but Yunho and Mingi especially. They help me out with choreo a lot, and the other instructors really take their input seriously. Seonghwa is a kindergarten teacher. But he also helps us all out when he can.”

She made a sound of surprise. “Oh, that's so cool,” she said, holding onto the side of the cart as Wooyoung let her go to grab some vegetables then continued further into the store. “I worked at a childcare facility as I studied for my bachelor’s!”

“That sounds fun,” he remarked. “I almost went into education, too. But I’m glad I ended up where I am today, teaching people dance.”

Rora beamed at this new connection with Woo and another member of the friend group, her tummy fuzzy with the new knowledge. But she swallowed the giddiness down, nibbling her bottom lip as she looked at the ingredients slowly filling the basket. “What are you planning to make?” 

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Wooyoung teased.

“What if I wanna help, though?” She moved closer to him when he stopped the cart again, avoiding bumping shoulders with someone walking by. Wooyoung’s fingers circled her wrist, brows rising when his eyes came to land on her. She smiled, and he went back to looking around for whatever he was trying to find.

“Are you good at cooking?” he asked, bending down to inspect some green onions.

“Good enough to get by,” she said, taking his spot at the head of the cart to watch him move on to some mushrooms a bit down the aisle. “I like using a knife much more than I like actually cooking, honestly.”

Conversation paused as they continued further into the store, picking up only when they stopped walking again. “The point of this gathering is for you to meet the others and to talk about everything,” Woo said, hands on his hips as he looked over the various meats lined up in the coolers. “It would be a little hard to do that with you busy in the kitchen, no?”

“Well, not really.” Rora looked back at him. “I can talk and cut vegetables or whatever. And there’s always time while eating or after for everyone to talk. If you don’t want me in the kitchen, just say so, Youngie,” she said, bumping her elbow into his side. 

“You have a point,” he murmured, inspecting a pack of pork belly. He threw a few into the cart before pulling her over to him and slinging his arm over her shoulder. “I would love to have you help me cook,” he said, rubbing his cheek against her own. “It'll be easier to sneak some kisses that way.” 

She squealed when he pressed a wet, sloppy kiss to her cheek, pushing him away to wipe at her cheek. “Gross, Woo,” she said. 

“You weren't calling my bodily fluids gross a week ago,” he said smugly. 

She sighed out a laugh before pushing him away from her. “So, what are we making?” she asked again. 

“Soup for one thing,” he said. “I was thinking we could grill up the pork belly and make wraps. Make some seasoned chives or something to have with it. I have some in the fridge that need to be used up soon.”

“Sounds yummy,” she said.

“Hell, let’s make a party of it and have some drinks,” he said, as they passed a liquor display, seemingly getting excited at the idea. 

She hummed in agreement. “That’ll help the conversation flow easier, too,” she said. 

“Exactly,” he said, jostling her around until she giggled. “Soju?”

“Sounds good,” she said. Then, a noise of excitement bubbled up from her throat and she turned to him with the full force of puppy dog eyes. “Can we get some fruits for dessert?”

He chuckled, eyes sweeping her face before nodding. “Sure, sweetheart,” he said, turning the cart to go back to the produce section. 

The rest of grocery shopping went by quickly, and before she knew it, they were checking out and back at the car. Hongjoong was asleep, seat leaned back as far as it could go and arm thrown over his eyes to block out the sunlight. His tattoo was back on display, and she marveled at the unique design of it and how well it seemed to suit him. 

“Time to wake up, daddy,” Wooyoung said, banging lightly on the roof of the car, cackling when the sleepy man startled. Ignoring his friend for the time being, Wooyoung opened the back door and ushered her inside. 

Hongjoong simply sighed, stretched, and straightened up. “You’re just going to keep calling me that?” he asked, fixing his seat from its reclined position. 

“You’re practically the father of this group,” Wooyoung said, hauling the groceries into the seat behind Hongjoong. “And I walked in on one of your partners calling you “daddy” last year, and I’m still not over it. So, yes - Daddy.”

Hongjoong groaned, buckling his seatbelt once more and starting the car. “I didn’t ask them to call me that,” he said with another sigh. “That was their own thing. And your own fault for just walking in.” 

“I still don’t hear you saying you don’t like it,” Woo snickered as he sat beside her. He buckled himself in then reached for her belt, too. 

“What?” Hongjoong said, barely sparing his friend a glance through the rearview mirror as he backed out of the parking spot. “You want me to fuck you too or something?” 

“Would you?” 

“You’re a bit too much of a brat for me,” Hongjoong said, and Wooyoung cackled.

She snorted and leaned into Wooyoung’s side. “Brat for sure,” she mused. 

Wooyoung growled at her playfully, biting her shoulder until she yelped. 

“Keep acting like a dog, and we’ll just have to get you a collar,” Hongjoong murmured off-handedly. 

Wooyoung went quiet and she felt the shiver work through him. She looked at him, brow raised. ”What was it, Youngie? Being called a dog? Or the collar?” She hummed, nuzzling just under his ear, “I suppose you do like things around your throat, huh?” she said, voice low, and she giggled when his breathing hitched.

Hongjoong’s laughter rumbled low in his chest, and she flushed. She didn’t think he would hear what she said. “You’re a little menace, aren’t you?” he said, not even looking back, instead focusing on turning onto the next street. In the mirror she could see those perfect teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and she inhaled sharply, looking away. 

Wooyoung cleared his throat, shifted in his seat. “Think Yunho and Mingi will let me watch later?” he asked. His tone was casual, but his cheeks were pink and his breathing just the slightest bit too fast. 

“You know Mingi loves putting on a show,” Hongjoong said, voice so casual it sent her heart racing. “I’m sure he would even let the whole group watch.”

It was her turn to give a little shiver, the idea working its way into her brain with searing heat. The breath puffed out of her in a barely audible “oh”, cheeks flaring red. 

“You like that, sweetheart?” Wooyoung asked, voice a mere rasp in her ears. When she didn’t (couldn’t) answer, he laughed and smoothed a hand down her thigh. His tan, vein-filled hand contrasted nicely against the black of her pants, but she wanted nothing more than for her pants to be gone. For that hand to be against bare skin. To grip tight until the flesh dimpled and turned red beneath his fingertips. 

“Mind out of the gutter, horndogs,” Hongjoong said, turning once again and pulling the car to a stop. “We’re here.”

[allmyey3s]

In the Woods Somewhere

Chapter 7: Heat

He stops halfway up the incline. The glowing dots seem placed a little higher than usual. Perhaps it's the weird angle he's looking at him from.

Phantom already wants to take a step further, but then the creature tilts their head, causing an outline of their antlers come into view. They're most definitely a whole lot taller than what he's used to, which should be alarming considering Mountain is a giant on a regular Tuesday.

But he's not thinking with his head anymore. He can feel his cunt soak as soon as soon as he catches the smallest whiff of his mate's misty forest smell. He shakes his head and finishes his ascent to the giant silhouette of his beloved mate in a few quick strides.

The green eyes follow him all the way. He stands in front of the beast and looks up at them. "Mountain, I need your help," he states simply, as if that would be enough to bring clarity into this situation.

The green lights peer back down at Phantom.

If he noticed they are darker than usual, he would have known.

And if he actually paid any mind to the abrupt change in height, he would have known.

And if he noticed the beast smells of misty forest and ash, he would have known.

-----------

Tags: dubcon, plant sex, general mindfuckery, jealousy and possessiveness. Cryptid boys back at it again :)

Summary: Phantom pops his heat unexpectedly and goes to find Mountain in the woods in the middle of the night to help him out, but wait, that's not his monstrous mate...

Read under the cut or on ao3

He should have known as soon as his clit started tingling.

Phantom was watching a movie in the common room with Cumulus, Aurora, Rain and Dew when his cunt started growing wet, little by little. Instead of doing anything about, it or even paying it any mind, he just shifted a little and discreetly rubbed a finger over the seam of his sweatpants twice.

He absent-mindedly processed the events of this morning, how he woke up weirdly horny and just pulled up his shirt, rested his hands above his head with crossed wrists and imagined Rain or Swiss or anyone really tying him up and pulling him apart with their skilled lips. In his groggy state, he didn't think much of it. He must have had a wet dream, that's all.

Oh how stupid he was.

Right before he was about to go shower, Phantom checked his period calendar app. It's a running joke between the band ghoul packs, to try and track their heats with human-made period calendars. And well, he did not expect a week from today to be lit in a rainbow color.

Well fuck.

He showered, quickly contemplated sticking his fingers inside himself but eventually decided against it, wished his packmates goodnight and then shut his door. He even double locked it, in case his smell got too bad through the night.

This felt wrong. He never hid from his packmates when in heat, not even when their cycles followed suit. But he knew heading over to one of them for help would just fuel his little problem, and the traditional way of solving it with a gangbang didn't sound too appealing at the moment.

Instead, he craved a very specific person. Or rather, monster. His body sang for Mountain, for his clawed hands around his throat, his snarls and dirty words that never failed to get him wet, and especially for his monstrous cock.

He needs it buried inside him yesterday.

So here he is, rushing through the dark woods as quickly as he can while also trying his hardest to remain silent. He snuck out of the window, which felt like something straight out of a movie.

Is going out into the woods at night a horrible idea? Absolutely. Does he need to get his mind fucked out of his skull? Absolutely.

This leaves him with no choice but to try to find his way to the cottage where he knows the big beast resides.

His breaths fog up as dried leaves crunch under his feet. The little clouds of mist follow eachother tightly as he takes quick shallow breaths while making his way through the dark forest. It's even more eerie this way. Every shadow seems like it's moving. It fills him with a crippling feeling of unease.

The only reason he's capable of remaining somewhat calm is the bite mark on his neck. He soothes himself with the idea that whatever lurks in here can smell Mountain's scent saturated on his skin as well as in his very body, and would most likely leave him alone. It's undetectable to humans, somehow to ghouls alike, but he knows, or at least hopes, that other creatures of these woods know better than to engage with Mountain's mate.

He pulls his jacket tighter around himself. His teeth are chattering. It's so damn cold. It's nearing Yule time now, so he should be glad that at least the ground isn't covered in snow, but it barely makes a difference. He's been to Mountain's place quite a few times now, he can find his way there.

Maybe in broad daylight.

Because frankly, he is lost as shit right now. He can't see two feet in front of him, and even though he's been following the trail he usually travels on, the forest looks like an alien planet.

"Mountain!" Phantom calls out, his voice echoing off the bare trees and spreading through the cold night. He knows it's stupid, but he's also aware of the fact that Forest Dwellers tend to be nocturnal, so there might be a slim chance of his mate hearing him. The most efficient way, of course, would be whistling, but while Phantom is a bit reckless, he doesn't have a death wish.

He calls out for his mate again, but just like before is met with only silence. He stops and stands still to listen for any sound, any at all. But it's like the endless darkness of this moonless night swallows every sound. He feel so very alone, as if he were standing in a large, empty void. The dread pooling in his gut becomes just a little overwhelming, and he almost turns to head back, but that's when he sees a pair of green floating orbs in the darkness. He quickly recognizes them as Mountain's eyes, which tend to glow in the dark. He doesn't know why, but in his opinion it's cool, so he doesn't ever question.

"Mounty!" he happily squeals as he runs up the small hill towards the glowing eyes. "Oh, Mounty, you don't know how I-"

He stops halfway up the incline. The glowing dots seem placed a little higher than usual. Perhaps it's the weird angle he's looking at him from.

Phantom already wants to take a step further, but then the creature tilts their head, causing an outline of their antlers come into view. They're most definitely a whole lot taller than what he's used to, which should be alarming considering Mountain is a giant on a regular Tuesday.

But he's not thinking with his head anymore. He can feel his cunt soak as soon as soon as he catches the smallest whiff of his mate's misty forest smell. He shakes his head and finishes his ascent to the giant silhouette of his beloved mate in a few quick strides.

The green eyes follow him all the way. He stands in front of the beast and looks up at them. "Mountain, I need your help," he states simply, as if that would be enough to bring clarity into this situation.

The green lights peer back down at Phantom.

If he noticed they are darker than usual, he would have known.

And if he actually paid any mind to the abrupt change in height, he would have known.

And if he noticed the beast smells of misty forest and ash, he would have known.

The green orbs fall low, as if the creature lowered their head. He feels a faint breeze on his neck, accompanied by quiet sniffing. They move lower, to his chest, down to his stomach, then eventually pause on his groin's level. They give two sharp sniffs before shooting forward.

Phantom feels two huge, clawed hands wrap around his thighs and grip firmly, while the monster shoves their face right between his thighs. He lets out a little squeak and tries to shuffle away, but a growl stops him in his tracks.

"Uhm- Mounty--" he starts, reaching down to gently touch the shiny tips of the antlers he can see reflecting the minimal light.

"I am not Mountain," a deep, smooth voice cuts him off. They sound so much deeper, so distorted, so much more monster-like. He knows right then and there they are not lying.

He sees those dark green specks of light lock on his own eyes. "But you are Mountain's claim."

Before Phantom can ask anything, the creature lunges at him and pins him to the ground. A sharp gasp cuts through the air, followed by a thump and a grunt. Before he could even regain the air that was knocked out of his lungs, thick vines wrap all around his body.

"W-What--" is all he can stutter as he squirms in the plant's grasp while his clothes are yanked off him. It all happens so quickly, before he knows it the cold winter air assaults him and causes goosebumps to form all over his body, stiffens his nipples and clit.

"Woah- hey!" he yells as he feels large hands wrap around his bare thighs again. "What are you doing? Who even are you?" he demands. Fear is creeping into his voice, and he knows damn well that he won't be able to remain calm for much longer.

Those dark green orbs focus on him again. A deep chuckle reverberates through the freezing air. "I'm just helping you with your heat, little one."

Not even a moment later the beast buries their face in Phantom's cunt. He gasps when he feels two long fingers push into him and curl right onto that sweet spot he needs them on. The intrusion is accompanied with cold lips latching onto his stiff dick and sucking on it harshly while also cat-licking it over and over again.

A punched-out moan is ripped out of his throat as the sensations combine. He squirms wildly in his organic bondage, but gets absolutely nowhere. "Wa- Wait! Stop!" he yells. He squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers as the fingers inside him start curling repeatedly and petting over his sweet spot. "Stop! No!"

He doesn't know this person, this beast. He wants Mountain, but his body is so lost in all the hormones and instincts that it doesn't even care who is behind that sinful feeling, only that it's finally getting what it needs. His own body, betraying him.

Phantom's struggles and denial seems to only fuel the monster as they suck harder on his clit and starts thrusting their fingers in and out while curling them every time they pass over his g-spot.

High-pitched whines are all Phantom can come up with as all the sensations intensify. It's only been a minute, yet the coil in his gut is wound so tightly he thinks he might explode. "Stop- Stop! I'm gonna cum, stop!" he yells hopelessly as he thrashes around in the vines, but is effectively held in place.

Those lips on his clit thin and curl into what must be a smirk as they continue their ministrations. He can't last much longer, he's already growing so wet. But if he holds out just a little more--

Phantom screams as the beast presses their other hand into the lowest part of his stomach, effectively pulling his orgasm out of him. It's such an intense sensation, the scream he made in reaction was so underwhelming. His whole body seizes up as his eyes clench shut. He squeezes tightly around the monster's fingers, liquid gushing out of him, yet they seem relentless.

A panicked whimper leaves his mouth as they keep sucking harshly on his clit even after he just came obscenely hard. "S-Stop, stop! Please stop!" he pleads again. He prays to the Dark Lord the monster would have mercy and just let him go. He'll find Aether and have him break his heat, anything to get away from this. It feels so good, he's floating somewhere in the orbit, but it's so much all at once. Too much pleasure, too good, too soon. His brain is completely disconnected from his body, but his nerves are in fire, especially in his crotch.

They finally pull away for a second. All he can see are their green eyes. "Have you ever thought about having kits?" the beast asks in a quiet, almost calculated tone.

Phantom's eyes widen, but before he can even answer that no, he's scared of pregnancy, the creature cups each of his pecs and squeezes lightly. For just a second, he can see a faint green glow, but it's gone rather quickly. He should be thankful for that, because if he saw his tits regrowing, he would have fucking passed out. That, however, is not the worst part. A second later he can feel something warm trickling down his chest, and when the monster leans over him to lick the mystery liquid off his tit, he know exactly what it is.

It makes his stomach churn, and he hates how wetter it makes him at the same time. He's absolutely disgusted by this, but so damn turned on as well. "Oh fuck..." is all he can manage, his voice breaking just a little on the curse.

He shuts his eyes as tight as he can, and tries moving once more. He can't as much as twitch, his bindings tight, but he doesn't care, he has to get away. If Phantom ever thought Mountain didn't quite understand human ghoul morals and general manners, this creature seemed Neanderthal in comparison.

A high-pitched cry is wrenched from him as the beast wraps its lips around one of his nipples and latches on, then sucks the pearly white liquid out of him. He thrashes around, but doesn't move even an inch.

It's pitch black around him. He can't see anything, so the yelp that comes out of him as the monster pushes two fingers inside of him again is louder than it normally would be. They push in deep, concerningly so, and all Phantom can do is groan pathetically as they invade the most private and hidden spots of his body.

"Why are your fingers so damn long?" he bites through gritted teeth. His eyes screw shut from the pressure building inside of him, and not only the pleasurable one this time. All he gets in response is a dark chuckle. Before he can come up with more questions, the fingers inside him start moving again, thrusting in and out.

It feels so odd, they're suddenly so much thicker than they were earlier, but then one second they thin out to the point it's barely filling him up. Then right back again, stretching him out until it burns.

It takes a moment for Phantom to realize that they are, in fact, not thrusting but rather... undulating, almost. Thickening and thinning out over and over again, causing it to elongaten and then shorten, poking and prodding into the most secret nooks and crevices inside him.

He only realizes it's not the monster's fingers at all when he feels something almost bumpy and writhing brush against his inner thigh. It's one of the vines.

Phantom gasps sharply. "S-Seven hells!" he yells out as his body spasms. The vine inside him thickened out so abruptly that it caused his stomach to balloon up. He can't see it, but he can feel a bulge in the taught skin of his lower belly.

It feels so wrong, he feels disgusted with both himself and the creature. They changed his body to their liking, only to use it to fuck with his head. He feels sick, yet his body is begging for more, more. Slick is practically dripping out of his cunt, and there must be a pool gathering below him with the steady little droplets that he feels occasionally catching on his rim.

He's so desperate, it's not enough. He wants to shy away, but he's so aroused it hurts at this point. His first orgasm didn't quench his thirst at all, if anything it threw him deeper into the throes of his heat.

He's already losing his mind. His brain is leaking out of his ears, joining the puddle of breast milk, slick and drool gathering below his suspended, squirming form. Little noises keep spilling from his lips, mixed with constant "no"s and "please"s.

As if the beast wants nothing more than to rip all of Phantom's pride away, to humiliate him that much further, another vine is suddenly shoved into him, this time in his ass. It's lubed up, thank fuck it's lubed, because he doesn't think he could handle going at it dry. Where they got the lube, he doesn't question, but he has a strange feeling it's a mixture of his own fluids. That makes his stomach flip harder, suddenly feeling as if it's doing somersaults beneath his skin. But there's nothing he can do, except thrash around and whimper.

Suddenly, there's a rustle somewhere in the darkness. Phantom doesn't even register it at first, he only realizes something is wrong when the vines inside him stop and the warm wetness around his nipple leaves. His eyes open, his body still as a dead thing. Only when the familiar scent of damp woods and cinnamon hits his nose, does he dare move.

"Mountain!" he yells in such a hopeful tone, eyes widening in hope. But a second later a rough clawed hand is clasped over his mouth. He struggles, mumbles incoherent threats and even goes as far as to bite at the fingers pressing against his lips, but they don't budge. If anything, they tighten.

"Phantom? What are you doing he-" Mountain's voice cuts through the tense silence. Before he can finish, the other beast interrupts them.

"He was in my territory. He reeks of heat. I'm giving him what he needs. You on the other hand," they state in that same calm, calculated tone. Their green eyes flash for just a second on that last part. "Have no business here."

Silence.

Why isn't Mountain saying anything? Why isn't he rushing down here to save Phantom? Can't he see how horribly ruined he's getting? He went apeshit when he saw Swiss pouncing onto him with the intention of burying himself inside him. Swiss, who was, for the lack of a better phrase, a mere ghoul in that situation. Now, this? One of his own kind toying with him in such a degrading way? Why is he just standing there?

"Phantom is my mate. Don't act like you haven't seen the mark on his neck," Mountain finally speaks again. He sounds... scared. He sounds scared and angry, seething even, but thay rage is somewhat pushed down and poorly concealed.

"This?" the other asks in an almost bored tone, pressing a pad of a finger onto the slightly glowing bite mark on the ghoul's neck. A surge of strange, yet familiar pleasure shoots down Phantom's spine, a faint golden glow spreading down the invisible veins in pulsating patterns.

A barely audible growl rumbles from the shadows, but is quickly stifled out. "Earth," Mountain hisses. "Let him go. He may be in your territory, but he's still mine."

The monster, Earth, lets out an amused, almost mocking laugh. "Oh, sweet little Mountain," he starts, and suddenly the hand around Phantom's mouth leaves. "I'm just helping a poor creature in heat. You know that's what I do. Quite personally now, don't you?"

Phantom tries to lightly wiggle in his binds, but even with Earth engaged in the conversation, he doesn't seem distracted, so he's kept in place.

Another growl rasps from the darkness, this time accompanied with some rustling. "Shut it. Give him to me. His heat is my issue and mine only," speaks the normally calm beast, who sounds so on edge right now, moments away from exploding.

There's more rustling, coming closer and louder, as if Mountain finally gathered the courage to step forward and actually do something about this incredibly embarrassing and humiliating situation.

The ghoul is being moved then, tugged back and released from the vines, but immediately pressed into a hard, cold chest. "Stay," the big beast warns. "You know what happens to trespassers, Mountain. I wouldn't want our past to be so easily forgotten."

This time, Mountain lets a full snarl slip. "I don't care what you think we had, it all came down to you and your filthy desires. Give me my mate, or I'm going to break your antlers off your head and snap your fucking neck," he threathens, untamed and dangerous, all that previously bottled up anger now spilling into his words like venom through a dying animal.

Silence, again.

Then, a strangled sound comes from Mountain, along with branches snapping and scurrying through the leaf litter, as if he was stumbling around clumsily. "Get out of my head!" he yells, and he sounds so awfully strained that is pains Phantom's heart.

A moment later, he stills, but huffing and panting can still be heard, as well as snarling. Pissed snarling.

"You know you don't think that. You don't have to pretend just to seem big and strong in front of him," Earth speaks once more. He sounds oddly amused, a little smug even, as if he found what he was looking for when he so rudely rummaged through Mountain's mind. He runs a cold finger over Phantom's jaw, tipping his head slightly upwards with a claw. "After all, I'm sure he would understand what it is that we shared." Dark green light casts over the ghoul's face as the beast looks down at him for just a second. The glowing dots crinkle at the edges, as if he was smiling. All Phantom can do is bare his teeth at him.

Earth turns back to face where Mountain supposedly is. "You're jealous," he states. It's not a question, he knows.

Another moment of silence.

"Of course I am, someone else is fucking my mate while he's in heat and then decides to rub it in my face," the beast eventually spits. He sounds more pissed than Phantom's ever seen him. Sure, he's seen him a little aggressive and possessive, but this? He seems like he's going go rip Earth to shreds.

"Have you thought about asking to join?"

The question is worded in such a simple, every-day fashion. As if the monster in front of him is no danger at all.

Phantom is confused, as well as a bit scared. What the ever loving fuck is going on right now?

Once more, silence falls upon the forest. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. It's odd, since the ghoul half-heartedly expected his mate to immediately decline and call nonsense.

But they are hesitating. He somewhat understands why this is as well, after all, what are their options aside from that? The other beast made it very clear he wouldn't just give him up.

After what felt like just a bit too long, Earth moved again, pulling Phantom away from his chest and setting him on the ground. The cold, damp leaves stick to his back as he squirms immediately upon contact, but he can't really get anywhere before the monster's claws dip the skin on his stomach, threatening to pierce the skin. "Stay," he rasps above him.

The monster's dark glowing eyes momentarily flash down to his face, before looking at Mountain once more.

"If you can't make your decision, then I'll continue on as we were. I'll drop him off at your doorstep after I'm done."

"Wait-!"

Before Mountain could even fully form a protest, a loud wail rips from Phantom's throat as Earth suddenly shoves his cock inside the ghoul's warm cunt. The intrusion is so unexpected his whole body seizes up. It almost hurts, the slick having slightly dried while the two beasts were arguing. In this moment, he's just a little thankful for the vines that were violating him a few minutes ago. While it felt absolutely humiliating, it at least prepped him for the giant cock that was splitting him open right now.

Mountain's big, inhumanly (and rightfully) so. Phantom's cervix was heavily bruised after their last little session, but this? He feels like he's about to burst. He can feel it in his teeth, squishing the air out of his lungs, rearranging his guts. His hands fly down his body, trying to somehow push the beast away, but ultimately fails. In the process his palm brushed over his stomach just enough to feel the concerningly large bulge, moving up and down in time with Earth's thrusts. It hurts, it hurts so much, and he knows damn well that if he wasn't in heat right now, he wouldn't be able to handle it.

"Fine!" Mountain's yell finally cuts through the night and stops the big beast for just a little. "Fine. I'll join in."

They're clearly less than delighted to utter those words, but it's their only chance to be somewhat close to their mate in this situation.

Phantom can practically hear the smirk that spreads across the other creature's face, even if he cannot see. The beast shuffles around a little, crunching footsteps come closer to him, and sooner rather than later, the little ghoul finds himself sandwiched between the two large Forest Dwellers.

As soon as he's settled, Mountain wraps his arms around Phantom tightly. "Mine," he growls in clear agitation and aggression as he buries his face in the ghoul's neck. He feels sharp teeth brushing against the sensitive skin, and just a second later, those dangerous razor points tear into his skin. A reedy whine sounds from him.

Mountain bit into the marked side of his neck. He's never done that before, since the day this mark was given to Phantom. And it feels fucking phenomenal.

The ghoul's eyes roll so far back into his skull that his already minimal vision blacks out. White hot pleasure shoots through his veins, making his muscles weak and bones shiver. He clenches around Earth's dick hard as a second orgams shakes him to his very core.

He can vaguely hear the older beast's booming laugh, but it's distant, somewhere far away. All he truly registers is Mountain burying themself in his ass, Earth picking up his harsh thrusts once more, and he's gone. He briefly feels his mate bumping into a slightly raised spot inside him that feels so much more sensitive than anything else. Dew and Swiss once talked about testosterone apparently having the ability to make you grow a prostate. But he doesn't really remember that, it's nothing more than a distant echo in his mind.

Mountain would much rather be the one claiming Phantom's cunt, but considering how adamant Earth is being about having earned his prize, rutting into their mate's ass is all he can do for now.

It doesn't take them long to notice the new addition to the ghoul's chest. Clinging hands soon began to wander, and the possessive growl they let out at the discovery makes Phantom wetter than he would admit.

But Phantom's floating somewhere near the orbit. He's so far gone at this point he's not even making noises anymore. He doesn't know how many times he's cum, or if he's been cumming all this time. All he knows is endless rapture, blinding pleasure burning him from the inside out.

After hours or minutes, he's not sure, Earth finally pulls out. Pearly liquid spills onto his stomach, staining his skin but not his insides. As much as the monster wants to agitate Mountain, he knows that spilling inside their mate, let alone knotting him, would surely not end well.

The last thing Phantom feels is Mountain yanking themself out of his ass and harshly burying his cock inside his cunt. They barely get a few thrusts in before they too are done, gushing rope after rope of hot seed deep into his womb, their own knot locking them together. Earth is once more latched on his chest, he's sure Mountain is there as well for a second. But before he can feel embarrassed or humiliated again, his sight fades to black. It's too much, too soon, more than his small body can handle in the cold of a winter night.

But luckily Mountain is there, and they're going to make sure Phantom makes a full recovery.

----

Phantom stirs as warm sunlight falls on his eyelids. Blinking his eyes open with a yawn, he slowly looks around.

Mountain's cabin. If the sight of those familiar stained glass windows, decorated with dried orange slices threaded on strings isn't enough, the comforting smell of cinnamon and pine resin saturating the atmosphere reassures him of his whereabouts.

He slowly sits up. Every muscle in his body aches. He's so sore everywhere, especially where he was suspended by Earth's vines the previous night. But of course, it's worst in his crotch and chest. He looks down, relieved to see he's in one of Mountain's large, knitted sweaters. The collar is hanging off one of his shoulders, but he couldn't be more grateful for the warmth it provided. He reaches up under the hem of it to rub at his chest. It's flat again, mostly at least, but he has a strange feeling that if he rubs a little too hard a few leftover droplets might ooze out of him.

The quint raises his head to look at the open bedroom door. "Mountain?" he calls out, only loud enough to be heard. A few seconds later his giant mate comes shuffling through the doorway.

His hair's a bit messy, his eyes a bit more closed than normal. Groggy. He looks as if he woke up not so long ago. A soft smile tugs at his lips. "Hi Bug," he greets, leaning on the doorframe. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Phantom mumbles in response. "Surprisingly not dirty though." Last night he was covered in sweat and dirt and all kinds of bodily fluids. This morning though, there was no trace of any of them.

A quiet chuckle rumbles from the beast's chest. "Good. Ran you a bath when we got home last night. You were so tired you just slept through it." They walk over to the bed and sit down next to the ghoul, the mattress dipping under their weight.

Phantom groans and lets himself lean on the big monster. "I don't even know what happened last night," he complains. He's obviously being just a bit dramatic, Mountain knows. But he's had a long and eventful evening. After all, getting your heat broken by not one, but two forest cryptids can be tiring.

Mountain wraps an arm around his mate's shoulder and rubs his arm comfortingly. "I'll explain everything, I promise, my dear. But first, let's get some food inside you, yeah?" A gentle kiss is placed on the crown of the ghoul's head.

Phantom nods. "Food sounds nice. I'm fucking starving."

Another chuckle rumbles from Mountain, and soon Phantom finds himself in the wooden kitchen, seated in his mate's lap with a plate of deliciously smelling french toast in front of him, because this big beast is nothing if not loving, sweet and cheesy.

[teruki-inoue21]

Possible Link Click III plot line??

This, my friends, is the latest poster for Neo Aurora (which I believe is some type of upcoming Link Click concert?). Take a look

Who’s there at the center, u ask? Why, it’s none other than the Hat Guy aka Liu Xiao aka THE GUY WE’VE BEEN WAITING OUR ASSES OFF FOR YET IS NOWHERE THE F**K TO BE SEEN!

So yeah, I don’t know about y’all, but I think I know how Link Click II is gonna end. In the last episode (well, only god and the staff behind know what it’ll be ‘bout), just before the cliffhanger, there’s going to be a brain-damaging, coma-inducing, heart-attack-starting badass entry of this guy, Liu Xiao, who’s probably been manipulating EVERYTHING behind the scenes from the very start and maybe also has some ability we know nothing of….

Ok, now that I’m done ranting, let’s get the theories addressed. Here, we see Tianxi at the leftmost, Qiao Ling at the rightmost, followed by Tianchen right beside Tianxi at the left, and Cheng Xiaoshi beside Qiao Ling at the right. Center stage goes to Lu Guang n Liu Xiao.

Hmmm… Y’all see where I’m going with this????

Well then, let’s draw some parallels.

Let’s start with our main trio. Qiao Ling is the sister counterpart, whilst Cheng Xiaoshi is the main character, impulsive and emotional, yet with a strong sense (in his case this sense is of justice), whilst Lu Guang is the best friend of the main character, who one day appeared out of nowhere, and who we know nothing about, and who’s quite mature and calm-n-collected.

Now, about the pink twins and Liu Xiao. Tianxi = sister. Tianchen = impulsive guy with a strong sense too (which for him is the ideal of becoming a hunter, a “murderer” if u will), and finally Liu Xiao = the friend of the impulsive boi, who, just like Lu Guang, appeared out of nowhere in Tianchen’s life, who we know 0% of, AND whatever scenes we’ve seen of him, we can clearly deduce that he’s ALSO level-headed n a mature guy (quite a bit much for his age, and that’s what makes him all the more eerie and enticing).

[NOTE: Thanks a lot to @mrbokchoi at myanimelist.net for bringing up this wonderful and feral-making theory.]

So, I think we can safely deduce what could be the plot for Link Click III (and trust me ppl, it WILL happen). All the while we were watching II and we’re waiting for the CXS vs LTch showdown, it was never about THEIR showdown. It was always about the face off between the two guys in the shadows, the two mysterious variables who were working on their own agenda, never revealing what they were truly there to do. Yes, it was always about Lu Guang and Liu Xiao. Just as Link Click II has been completely from CXS’s POV (and a little bit of QL and Xiao Li’s perspective), I believe Link Click III will definitely be Lu Guang’s perspective, how he’s been traveling between and thru various timelines to save CXS from dying, a bit of focus on the alternate timelines, and finally, his showdown with the ominous Liu Xiao, the man behind EVERYTHING (?).

With that being said, I’m gonna drop one last bomb to make y’all go truly feral. If what I think is true, then in order to shift the POV from CXS to LG, this means that Link Click II will have a……….(wait for it)…………….(dramatic silence)……………………… BAD ending!!!! CXS will be gravely hurt, if not totally dead, and LG will be repeating the cycle, once more, as his pain grows……

Well then, I hope all of you who’ve been reading thus far, have a great wait for the final two EPS of Link Click II and for the third season.

(And a happy journey to becoming feral too, me lads!! 😈😈😈)