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railingsofsorrow · 1 day

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5 hours apart

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: “I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts.” “I don't want you to miss me. It's tearing me apart.” from this prompt list.

pairing: spencer reid x svu!detective!f!reader

w.c: 3.7K

warnings/content: long distance relationship; crying; sadness; discussions of a case related to kidnapping (brief); migraine; this o.s approaches healthy siblings dynamic and some childhood trauma, be aware; discussions about marriage; spencer does not beat the pipe cleaner allegations.

A/N: decided to do a crossover one shot between criminal minds and law and order: svu (my newest obsession)because I love both shows (and nick amaro has older brother vibes) and it fit pretty well. there's like a few Spanish terms that I used and please consider that I did Spanish in high school and had a few classes afterwards, forgive me if I made some misspellings.

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

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There are two missed calls on your phonescreen when you turn it on. The heavy load of paperwork you needed to finish plus the migraine that did not leave you alone forced you to turn your phone off during the daytime so you could concentrate on working. Amanda and Fin telling you to go home wasn't as effective as your boss ordering the exact same thing upon seeing your tired state. Thankfully, by the time he did that, you had already finished everything and you happily obliged.

The keychain clinking against the doorknob makes you drop your shoulders in relief. You aren't home but it's close enough. It's been a few months since you have stepped into your brother's place, but it's the same as you remember. Grey couch, the spotless kitchen island that you can see as soon as you walk in, the innumerous pictures of your brother and your niece scattered around the walls.

You throw your dark brown blazer on the loveseat across the room and sit on the couch unceremoniously, pressing play on the latest voice message.

“Hey... It's me. I called you before and it went straight to voicemail, I... I forgot to say something.” You snort, hair falling off of your ponytail as you let it loose down your shoulders. Never have you ever seen your boyfriend forget something. “I'm sorry I couldn't make it. I know I promised and I really wanted to go but the case, it was a serious one, they needed me.” The guilt in his voice breaks a part of you inside. “I-I'm sorry I let you down.” There's a beat, some voices in the background that you can't make out who it is because they're too far away. “I love you and I'll make it up to you, okay? Call me when you can, please.” And the message ends.

You only notice you start crying when a sob echoes through the room and the sound comes from you.

You were never mad at him. Deep down, you expected him to cancel on you because of a case, you knew you would if you were needed. Both if you are not the kind of people who let your people hanging, especially if the reason is work. And that's fine, when you started dating Spencer, that was the first thing you understood, as he did.

Being far away from him is what kills you. You manage to work long-distance. He visits you on his (rare) day-offs, you escape for a few days to Virginia. It works. It's how you do. But there are moments in which you just need him close and it's not like you can drive over to his apartment right away. 5 hours apart does that to a couple. It's not unbearable, but it's painful.

You miss him.

So you dial the number you know by heart, sniffling quietly on your bubble of loneliness in the empty apartment.

You don't know where he is, if he's home, if he's in a completely different timezone. You don't care.

It rings twice before his voice fills up the call. “Hi—Hey, angel.” He sounds frantic. You smile thinking he must have been waiting for your call.

“Hey, Spence,” you respond, folding your knees on the couch. “Are you home? I didn't text first to see if it was a good time to talk, sorry.”

“It's always a good time to talk to you.” He says without hesitantion. “I'm on the motel, packing.”

“Oh, so did the case end okay?”

You can feel the relief through his exhale. “Yes, we found the boy on time. He's finally back with his parents. Home.”

Your mouth twitches, “that's good.” And you make sure to add as you always do, “you saved a life today, I'm proud of you.”

His soft awkward chuckle causes a tearful grin out of you. You can practically see him blushing.

“Thank you. It was... It's a good feeling.”

“Are you happy?”

“Not really.”

You brows furrow slightly. “Why? Did something happen?”

“I miss you,” he says. “I am happy that we saved someone today, of course but... You know, the first person I wanted to tell it to was you. I just— I miss you. So much it hurts.”

You close your eyes as the tears slip one by one down your cheeks, you felt their salty taste. Your chest clenching as you stay silent for what feels like several minutes until Spencer's concerned tone breaks the silence.

“Angel?”

“Please don't miss me. It's tearing me apart.” Your request doesn't quite make sense but you don't have time to think it through before you say it. It just what comes out of your heart.

“Please, don't cry.”

You let out a tearful laugh, attempting to dry your tears foolishly.

“I'm always missing you, sweetheart. I'm sorry but that's inevitable.” He adds, sadly.

“It hurts so fucking much.”

Spencer clears his throat and you know he's either refraining from crying himself or trying to mask it.

“I know. I'm sorry.” He pauses. “I wish I was there.”

You shake your head even though he can't see it. “'s not your fault. It's your job, you can't help it.”

"I hate it that you're crying and I'm not there to comfort you."

"I'm fine," you whisper, sniffling. "Don't worry about me. Today was just... A shitty day, really."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

You hum, fiddling with the soft fabric of the light green hand-knit throw blanket your brother always left on his couch. "Migraine." It's what you say and all he needs to know to wince in the other side of the line.

"Did you take something for it?" Spencer is aware of your frequent migraines and how much they bother you.

"Yeah, it's okay now." You reply even though there's a little painful pang in the back of your back right now.

"Maybe you should try to sleep a little. Did you know that sleeping seven hours every night impacts on your focus, body weight and immune system? Actually, adults aged from sixteen to sixty years should all get at least seven hours sleep every night, but that's almost never happens because of people's usual hectic work schedules-" He sucks in a breathe upon noticing he's rambling non-stop. You laugh and suddenly the harsh grip on your heart diminishes a little. His voice appeasing the momentary heartache you're going through.

"Says you. Who never sleeps, anyway. And work on caffeine 24/7."

"Hey," his tone has a tinge of amusement but he pretends to be offended. "I sleep."

"You do when I'm there. Cause I force you."

"Oh, you're so cruel to me, angel."

Your lips widen into a smirk. "That I am."

The conversation carries on for a while, until you figure out which time it is where he is and immediately orders him to go to sleep because he has an early flight to catch in the morning. He's reluctant, but he eventually lets it go because you need to sleep too and you will talk in the next day again.

Before he hangs up, he asks, the first time he hesitates in the call. "Uh, does- does your brother hate me?"

Your brain takes a few seconds to grasp what he's implying, until you remember what was supposed to happen this weekend. Spencer would come over to your place in New York to meet your brother.

You bite your lip, straightening your legs out on the ouch. "Yeah, about that..."

"He does, doesn't he? I don't blame him, I did screw up-"

"Wait, baby, that's not it. I... I actually didn't tell him." A pause, you curse under your breath. Now he must thing you didn't want him to come. "Spence?"

"Did I pressure to do something you didn't want? I should have asked you if you wanted meet to meet him, right? I think I kind of invited myself over and-"

"Stop." You cut him off. "No, Spencer. You didn't pressure me into anything. I want you two to meet, of course I do. You're one of the most important people to me, but I really forgot. I'm not making up an excuse."

"Alright, yeah. Okay." He says and you hear a door closing and wood creaking. He must be sitting on the bed.

"I love you." You receive the mental image of the scrunch of his nose and the smile he can't help whenever you drop the L bomb out of nowhere. "And you know he doesn't have to approve anything, right? Nick has no say in who I date or not."

"But he's your brother, he's important to you and I would meet him someday anyway because- I, well." Your body shakes with laughter and the phone almost drops from your hand.

"What, are you proposing now, genius? Through the phone, really?"

"Don't make fun of me." Spencer warns playfully.

You take a few seconds to process that he doesn't deny it. You said it as a joke but he didn't even deny it that he thinks about marrying you. God, your chest could combust.

"You think about it?" You ask, shifting your position to bring your knees to your chest. "Us? Someday?"

"You mean getting married to you? Yes. I do. We haven't discussed it yet, but... Yes, I do think about it."

"Mhm."

"Has it ever... crossed your mind?" He's reluctant, shy to ask even. You find it cute as everything Spencer Reid does. Marriage is something that never really crossed your mind, to be honest. You think is nice when people get married and show their love to their loved ones, but your parents' relationship carved a fear deep within your chest and your entire perception of love had to be relearned through the years they separated. One thing that you learned is that no person and no relationship is the same. It's not because your father broke your trust and destroyed a part of your and your brother's childhood that your future partners will do the same. It is easier said than done, but you're coming around to the idea.

"Not before you." You admit quietly.

"Oh."

“Yeah.” You ponder out loud. “It scares me a bit, that I consider spending the rest of my life by your side. Doesn't it scare you?”

“It does,” he replies. “But the idea is nice to think about.”

You smile, letting out a soft breath. “Yeah, it is nice.”

A male voice calls out for him in his end and you know he has to go. You had already taken up much of his time, anyway.

“They want to go to a bar nearby to celebrate.” Spencer explains to you, not sounding too thrilled about the idea.

You snicker, “go have fun, genius. You deserve it. Try to enjoy it even if this is not your usual idea for fun. I love you.”

“I love you more.” Spencer says and laughs at your groan of protest on the other side.

“We're not going to be one of those couples who never hang up because you love me more or no, I love you more, Spencer.”

“I just like to mess with you.” He admits with an edge of amusement to his tone. And damn you miss the smirk you know he's making right now.

“Yeah, I know. Now go, have fun. And have a safe flight tomorrow, text me when you land?”

“Of course, angel. Try to sleep a bit, you need the rest.”

You smile. “Sure. Bye, Spence.”

“Bye, angel.”

An hour or two goes by since your phone call with your boyfriend and manage to cook some dinner and then throw yourself back on the couch while a random show is played on TV. You end up falling asleep and wake up upon hearing the jiggling keys against the door of your brother's apartment, rubbing your eyes in your disoriented sleepy state. Checking your phone, the screen says 11p.m.

Nick stops midway from his way to the couch, where he was probably about to throw himself at. From his tired eyes and hunched over stance, you are able to tell how exhausted he is. “Why are you always here?” Nick throws himself on the floor instead, his head falling against your knees. The tone he used would make you slap him right behind his ear, if you weren't still with your mind in that phone call and a million miles away from New York. “I thought you rented an apartment. Or is it that you just miss me?”

“I don't miss you.” You mumble, voice muffled by the soft fabric of the blanket covering half of your face. “I see you every day, idiot. How can I miss you.”

Nick raises an arm towards your calf and you immediately kick his hand away before it can get to your feet. He chuckles, fluttering his eyes open for the first time since he got home. He glances up at you, who's glaring at him. His smile falls.

“What's wrong?”

You shrug, pulling your knees up to your chest and turning your head towards the TV. You weren't paying attention since the show started, you had no idea what is going on. “I cooked dinner. Left you a plate on the microwave. Go eat, I bet you didn't have a proper meal. You never do.”

“That's not true��”

“Eating burritos isn't a proper meal, Nick.” You groan as he tries to take another look at your face. “Stop it. I'm fine.”

“Yeah, I don't buy it. What happened?” If there's one thing your brother is, that thing is anxious. Nick is a worrier. And he's completely paranoid about knowing what's going on to find a solution before the time runs out. Even if there is no time to run out. He gently tips your chin up, frowning. “Why have you been cryin’?”

You turn your face away from his reach, sitting up on the couch. You take a moment to form your answer and he's anxiously waiting for it, coffee-brown eyes inspecting your matching ones.

You decide to go simple, but it's also the truth. “'s not a good day, that's all.”

He blinks and then the concern opens some space for understanding in his expression. And just like that, he figures out what's been making you upset. You don't doubt that he really knows, since your brother and you always understand each other with a look.

“D'you wanna talk about it?” His usual sarcastic tone gives place to a softer one. The one he uses in moments where his little sister needs her older brother.

You shrug, letting out a sigh before resting your head against the couch, eyes studying the ceiling. “It's nothing, I just... I miss Virginia, that's all.”

Nick hums, nodding. “You mean you miss the skinny kid from the FBI.”

A laugh bubbles out of you unexpectedly, you playfully shove his shoulder as he offers you an unimpressed look.

“Stop being mean to him.”

“Me?” Nick pulls himself up to the sofa, groaning when his joints complain as he stands up. “'m not being mean to anybody.”

“Okay, grandpa.”

“Hey,” he throws a pillow at you, narrowing his eyes threateningly. “you don't get to be mean to me.” You roll your eyes. There he goes playing the older card that just makes him look exactly like an elderly. “Why don't you take a few days off? I can't remember the last time you did that.” Before you can respond to that, he frowns, turning to you as if he just had thought of something. “Or why doesn't the skinny kid come and visit you? It's not that hard.”

“He was gonna to that this weekend.” His raised eyebrow makes you sigh and shake your head. “He had a case last minute, so he couldn't.”

He pauses, munching on his cheek. You question his thoughtful expression.

“What? No jokes now?”

“It's serious then? You and him.”

You blink at him, puzzled by the question. It wasn't what you expected. “W—yes. Why would you ask that?” He had walked up to the kitchen to grab a bite of whatever you had made him and you followed right behind.

“Nothin’,” he says, turning the microwave on and stepping towards the fridge to grab something to drink. “I just never saw you in a serious relationship.”

You pause.

Okay, you had a few flings in your life, it's not like your love life is messy, it is actually pretty simple. You and the people you've previously have relationships (or situationships) enjoyed having fun. You weren't looking for anything serious and when you were... well, your job got in the way. Until Spencer Reid. He's the unexpected occurrence that showed up during a local case to investigate a series of murders in the city of New York and both of your teams worked together. If someone told you before that you would get attached so quickly to someone and consider driving five hours just because you missed them then you would have laughed in their face.

Your brother might actually have a point. He had never seen you in a serious commitment before, he has, however, had the opportunity to try and scare off some of your partners — the ones he accidentally met, at least.

“I don't need to disclosure every aspect of my love life to you, Nicholas.”

You crossed your arms as the corner of his lips lift in a knowing smile. “Stand down, tiger. I just made an observation, no need to get defensive.”

“I'm not.” You say, shifting on your feet, suddenly self-conscious with the whole conversation. It's difficult to talk about someone so important to you to another someone that's important to you. You've never share much about your personal life and inner struggles with anybody, and that has everything to do with the man you call “father” in the biological sense. But Spencer managed to push through these walls and he didn't demeaned you because of your trauma, neither did he treated you as if you were made out of glass, that you could shatter at any given second. He understood you and you understood him, which is why love has always been within your reach in your relationship. It was only a matter of time.

“He's important to you, isn't he?” The microwave beeped but none of you move.

“Yes.” You utter, playing with the ring on your index finger. “I know we don't— we don't talk about these stuff...”

“We can if you want to—”

“No, it's not— That's not it. I mean. You're my brother and we have a good communication but I never felt the need to formally introduce anyone to you because you're family, Nick. You're my only family,” you finally look at him. “If it ever got to the point, one day, where it was worth it for me to do that, then I would. I just thought that I wasn't made for love, you know?”

You see him rushing to disagree with you and probably say you can't think like this and that is not true, so you intervene before, smiling.

“But I know that that is not true, alright? Porque le quiero y sé que él también.” His eyes soften at your claim and you feel like crying again because you miss Spencer and you wish he's there with you. “So yeah, it is serious. And the reason he was going to come visit me was to meet you properly.”

“What?”

“Yes. That was my reaction too.” A fond smile takes over your mouth. “He insisted he wanted to meet you because he knows how important you are to me.”

“Oh.” He is officially caught off guard and it makes you chuckle. That is a rare image you're seeing in front of you. No one catches Nick Amaro off guard. One point to Spencer, I guess. “Well, now I just have to meet this chico who stole my sister's heart.” He's back to his playful persona, lifting a hand to ruffle your hair, and you flip him off. “Let's see if he is all that you claim he is.”

“He's a good guy, asshole.” He hums, munching on his food. “You'll see,” you say with a small grin while you turn back to the living room to lay back on the couch.

“We'll see.” He mumbles from the kitchen, shaking his head when a thought crosses his mind. He can't believe you fell in love, he still sees you as an annoying toddler who wouldn't let him be at school while he was trying to impress his friends because you were too shy to make your own and would cling to him like a lifeline. In all honesty, Nick has always enjoyed your company, it makes him feel grounded. He cares about your well-being and tries to protect you from every bad thing you have to face, but he knows he can't. Sometimes, you gotta face things on your own. And, sometimes, you don't need your older brother to shield you from pain. It's hard for him to accept that, especially after what you both endured through your lives.

You're all grown up now and he has to stand down his overprotective side because you can handle things, he knows you do. Though he'll be there, in the corner, having your back as always. Because that's what brothers do.

Hopefully, this Spencer Reid will pass the test.

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[translation]

Porque le quiero y sé que él también. = because I love him and I know that he does too

chico = boy, kid

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taglist: @lilyviolets ; @whore-for-spencer-reid ; @yeonalie @ninkieminjaj ;

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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mysteryshoptls · 2 days

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R Ace Trappola - Luxe Couture Vignette

"My perception just lagged hard"

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Ace: Alright, it's finally the free roam time I've been waiting for! That brand-name shop looks good, and so does that one… But I think I'll have to pass on 'em!

Azul: Oh? You don't plan on visiting those stores?

Ace: I mean, I'm not anywhere close to being able to afford all those high-brand clothes. But you already knew that when you asked, right, Azul-senpai?

Ace: But it's not like I've completely given up on doing any shopping, though. I'm thinkin' about checkin' out some of the secondary line shops.

Azul: Ah, yes, there are many high-end brands that are developing products aimed at the broader marked instead of just their main audience.

Ace: Yeah, yeah. I did some digging after heading back to the hotel yesterday, and…

Ace: Looks to me like those secondary line shops have fits that suit me better.

Azul: Hm. And what sort of look do you tend to like, Ace-san?

Ace: I guess my likes reflect my usual getup. I dress pretty casual.

Ace: I like clothes that are easy to move around in, and aren't really high-maintenance. And I can't really deal with looks that are too stiff.

Ace: I'd probably say that most of my outfits have a splash of the current trends, but also have a bit of an edge to it.

Ace: On the other hand, I can only imagine you wearing pretty stiff and formal stuff.

Azul: I suppose. Of course, it does depend on the time and occasion.

Ace: Maaan, I know you got some real good sense about these things. It'd be greaaat if you could tag along and pick out some clothes for me～

Azul: Well, let me see… I do have some interest in how those secondary line brands develop their merchandise.

Azul: There's no reason for me to not join you as I observe their establishments. HOWEVER! You will, of course, be paying for yourself.

Ace: Tch. Guess he saw right through me. Suuucks.

Ace: Oh well, let's go, then.

Ace: Hmmm, where's the store I was checking out yesterday…? Oh, found it. Azul-senpai, it's over here.

Azul: The store does seem to have a grand appearance, yes… But I can see that the designs here are rather different from the signature line.

Ace: Looks pretty good, huh? Let's go in!

Ace: Woah, check out this stylish sweater! The shape's pretty good, and I bet it'd work with all sorts of outfits. And the price…

Ace: ONLY 30,000 MADOL [300 Thaumarks]! THAT'S SO CHEAP!

Azul: Calm yourself, Ace-san. Is 30,000 Madol for one sweater considered cheap to you?

Ace: ACK, WAIT, NO, THAT'S NOT CHEAP! WHEW, THAT WAS CLOSE～

Ace: After seeing all those Luxe prices set for the rich and famous, I guess my perception just lagged hard.

Ace: But I think I should be able to buy at least one thing from this shop with my pocket money.

Ace: Azul-senpai, I'm countin' on you to pick out something nice for me.

Azul: What do you think about that black blazer on the mannequin over there? It has a stunning silhouette.

Ace: Ooh, you're right. It's got a pretty slender and sleek profile!

Azul: Underneath it… How about this collared white shirt? It would probably look good with a striped tie, as well.

Azul: If you combine it with these center-pressed slacks and leather shoes, you would do well in any establishment that requires a dress code.

Ace: Cool, I woulda expected nothing less from something you've selected, Azul-senpai. Pretty formal and mature.

Ace: It's a pretty different look than what I normally would go for, but I guess I should at least give it a try.

Azul: I am pleased you like it.

Ace: If I were to buy everything that you chose for me… Urgh, that's over 100,000 Madol [1,000 Thaumarks]!

Azul: Well, this might be a secondary line, but it is still a brand-named shop.

Ace: Hrrrngh, maybe I'll do just this blazer… It's not really something I already own or anything.

Ace: And black pretty much goes with anything, so it makes it easy to come up with outfits…

Ace: It's a shorter style, too, so it might actually go for a casual look with my hoody and jeans.

Azul: That is a combination that hadn't even crossed my mind… Yet, I agree, I'm sure it would suit you immensely.

Ace: So that look would be like a combination of our two fashion senses, then.

Ace: If it's just the blazer, I think I could just barely afford it, but… My funds when I return to campus'll be pretty low…

Ace: Ooh, I have an idea! Can you let me work some hours at the Mostro Lounge?

Ace: I can be pretty good with my hands. You've seen that before, right, Azul-senpai?

Azul: Yes, of course. And we have a mountain load of tasks to be done. I look forward to your wonderful hard work, Ace-san.

Ace: …Shoot. Did I just put myself up for something I shouldn't have?

Ace: Uhhh… Hope you'll go easy on me～

Requested by @ordinaryanon.

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #azul ashengrotto #twst ace #twst azul #twst translation #twst tapis rouge

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strawberrymochin · 1 day

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Springtime Fushiguros♪

Context-: exploring the memories of childhood of fushiguros, marking the spring time of you and satoru gojo.

Summer daze :- cozy afternoon naps and picnic with gojo and the fushiguros

You cleared away the empty cans into a plastic bag, putting them aside, then closing the lid of the emptied bentos, you prepared this morning.

Gojo streched himself on the blanket, he spread earlier, looking much chirpy and vibrant.

Last few days has been really hectic for Gojo. The higher ups are really driving him up the wall, building up his hatred even more. You didn't want him to get stressed because of those shitty people, thus you recommend to spend this holiday in mizumoto park having a picnic day.

You woke up early today, making different items, including a lot of foods that has a slight sweet hint to it, not forgetting to carry extra candies for him. You also made Megumi and Tsumiki's favourite foods so no one's left out. You are not that of a picky eater, so all these items were enough to please you.

'Hey, that was mine!!' Megumi whines as gojo picks a candy that was particularly reserved for Megumi.

'So what? I paid for it.' Gojo flicks an eyebrow at him, scoffing in superiority.

'That doesn't counts, give it back to me!'

'well, I've already popped it into my mouth. It has my saliva over it....still want it back?'

'Y/n-san!!' Megumi calls for you, 'oh come on 'toru! Teasing Megumi is not considered to be a part time hobby.'

Gojo straightens up, flicking his sunglasses with a swift movement. 'call me that again?'

You couldn't reciprocate for a moment that seemed long. 'um....'toru..?'

He looked at you for a while, intently and steadily, then layed down with a soft chuckle. You couldn't process his response, maybe he found the nickname silly? Ahh I shouldn't have called him that. You smacked yourself mentally.

You were about to explain yourself that it was not something cheesy you made up with and just an involuntary action, when—

'megumi-chan you can have mine.' Tsumiki being the kind hearted angel she is, offers her candy to Megumi.

'Its fine 'miki, you have that, I've got some more of those for you guys. Here.' You hand out the candies to the kids. 'we will leave before evening, wanna have a nap till then?'

'yes!' chirps tsumiki, 'lay down then.' you shift your body weight, lying on the right side while your upper arm supports your head, using the left hand to patt the area beside you, indicating the kids to lay down.

Megumi was going to take the spot beside you, but gojo pulls him beside him instead. Megumi groans, trying to squirm to get out of gojo's grip and run to you. Unfortunately, he isn't strong enough to do that. You laugh a bit, as Tsumiki lays beside you.

Warm rays of sunlight pools over, through the crown shyness, slow breezes cause the branches of the trees, above you guys dance loftily. The sound of the birds, insects and the scent of soil forged a serene environment.

Gojo was fondled megumi's hair, while he slowly drifted in his dreamy slumber. Tsumiki was fast asleep too.

'what was that before?' you said softly keeping your voice low, not to wake the kids up.

'hm?'

'why did you make me repeat—'

'Cuz, i wanted to hear it again.'

'why? Do you think it's silly?'

'You know, what's the most melodic thing to my ears in this entire world?' he smiles softly. His blue eyes shone like the point where the sun rays meet the vast sea. 'It's my name from your mouth.'

You felt a thousand butterflies in your stomach. This simple confession felt more intimate than any subtle physical moments you've had.

He continues, 'Don't know much about nicknames, but you've surely made me silly.....in love.'

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 5 hours

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Labor HC (ft. Poly!Mates Bat Boys)

Warnings: intense labor, my bsf just had her first baby and told me all the horrific things 🫠, personally i never want children, thank the cauldron for healing magic, longish? compared to my other hc, i guess labor horror? the idea of giving birth scares the ever loving shit out of me

By the end of your pregnancy your stomach was the size of two side by side watermelons

Madja grew increasingly worried that you would not survive the labor at how big the babe inside of you had grown

you worried your child would tear itself out of your womb

indefinite bed rest for you

which you honestly didn't mind since it was getting difficult for you to move your body without getting tired

bat boys worry. you aren't illyrian. if the baby belonged to cassian or azriel, your body would not be able to allow for wings to grow. (paternity/gendering of the baby was not possible. all the results came back as inconclusive)

as it gets more cramped inside of you, every one of the baby's movements is felt by you.

Rhys neglects much of his work and favors spending every waking hour by your side.

Cassian and Azriel grow extremely considered when they hear commotion arising in the Hewn City. Az has heard that many in the Court of Nightmares wish for your demise in labor. They take each threat to your life seriously and spend their time ensuring the security and safety of you and your unborn child.

they can't protect you from the pain of labor though

Rhys and Az were asleep with you in the bed, Cassian preferring to stand guard outside your door.

You're pulled out of sleep rather abruptly, well aware of the unconscious tensing of your muscles as a stabbing pressure digs into your abdominal area. a tightening and squeeze so vicious that you try and sit up immediately but your big belly prevents you from doing so.

stomach churning fear rises in you. it was time.

you shake your mates awake as another squeezing pain that burned across your lower back and pelvis.

they've drilled for this. no really your bat boys have played out the scenario an annoying amount of times. Az leaps from the bed to alert Cassian, Rhys helping you sit up

Azriel leaves to fetch Madja since he's the fastest

the Wraiths prep everything you may need and wait in the room with you, Rhysand and Cassian until Azriel returns with the healer.

that's when things really start

you were already screaming when Madja arrived. Nuala and Cerridwen had prepped you for the labor if Madja were too late.

Azriel had your left hand, brows furrowed and wishing he can transfer the pain you were going through into his body. Even if this pain meant the birth of a child, he hated hearing your screams or the tears welling in your eyes as you push with all your might

Rhysand, who had been hold your right hand transfers it to Cassian's care as he moves to be by Madja side to watch the actual birth. His eyes keep darting from your lower half to your face.

you never knew bringing another life into the world was so painful. you yourself didn't know either of your parents. no one to warn you of what you would face in childbirth

your bat boys were there though, that was all that mattered.

time drags with each heave you give

then he was born. . .

Dagen. even with his wings tucked in tight, pushing him out damn near tore you from your v to your a. like that whole entire region was on fire

"O-Oh. . ." Madja gasped, clearly startled as she held your baby in her arms, having been about to pass him to Rhysand. Almost in fear she looks at Rhysand. "I. . .I think there is another babe coming. . ."

Two babies???

you didn't believe her. until you felt another intense wave of pain start up again. dagen nearly tore you in half. you couldn't imagine pushing out another baby that potentially had wings.

"no, please no" you sob, every part of you aching.

Cassian looks scared. "You can do this." his hand was numb but he didn 't care.

"We're here." Azriel nods and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze.

Rhysand was still standing a little dumbstruck with a fresh newborn in his arms.Thankfully one of the wraith sisters nudges him, her arms ready to take the baby so he can go back to focusing on the next one.

Rian arrived quickly, smaller than dagen thanks to the lack of wings

there was five minutes of peace where Rhysand and Cerridwen showed you your boys. beautiful boys that you and your mates created

until you felt another stabbing sensation.

you screamed at rhysand, azriel and cassian. damning them to a suffering in the afterlife for putting you through this.

to you this was bullshit.

it should be impossible!! then again, so was having three destined mates

Mor had called it a miracle. you now thought of it as a curse. you never knew having three mates meant giving birth to three babies at the same time

the third baby however would prove to be the most difficult. thanks to the previous two, you were beyond exhausted and begging for someone to just rip it from you. there was no way you could push it out by yourself.

Madja made the tough call of performing a cesarean section

the wraiths took away rian and dagen as the surgery took place

they'd been in wars, seen carnage, but there your bat boys were with white faces that expressed utter horror

the last baby to be delivered was a little girl with wings. your Baila.

exhausted, you pass out soon after Madja pulls her from you.

everyone is pushed out of the room except for madja herself as she sews you back up and stops the bleeding that could possibly kill you if not treated properly.

it feels like a dream to you when you wake up.

except every part of you is still suffering from a dull pain

your bat boys introduce you to your three pretty babies

i hc that dagen is azriel's, rian is rhysand's and baila is cassian's cuz i've always thought of him as a girl dad and nothing can change that lol

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar series #acotar cassian #cassian fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger #bat boys #acotar bat boys #rhysand x reader

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sepublic · 9 hours

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Alright, let's talk about some details from the TOH pitch bible;

A lot of the stuff is what we've already seen and/or in line with the show. What's interesting is that King WAS a former King of Demons at one point, and we would've had an episode where he runs into his old gang and chooses Luz and Eda over them. It makes me wonder if he even had a connection to the Titan in earlier drafts, if he wasn't recognized as one back in the day because he just wasn't big enough, etc. Eda makes a deal to help remove the collar, which IS the source of King's woes, placed by a 'mysterious wizard', I wouldn't be surprised if it was Obron AKA Proto-Belos.

What gets me is that Tibbles originally started off as a friend to the protagonists, while Bump was an antagonist! Coupled with Tibbles being re-elected as mayor after Bump is deposed for corruption. I like the detail of Bump being a parasite controlling a body from the head, because it carried over into his final design with Frewin, and before we got confirmation Frewin was a separate entity, I loved the joke theory that the imp on Bump's head was the REAL Bump!!! Seems that was always the implied story of the design, I love it. Tibbles being the demon fan of human stuff would eventually become Gus instead, so this is technically Proto-Gus too…?

Interesting how Bump and Tibbles' alignments switch completely with one another, and it makes sense that with Lilith no longer the principal in the final draft, it goes to Bump, who ends up being really chill and a subversion in his own right! Interesting, but I do prefer the final Bump we got, and that's fine by me, because when the concepts aren't as interesting as the final product, it means we got the best possible version.

I've already discussed Obron and William in a separate post, and Pupa is someone we've been told about in a previous livestream. Lilith would've been both head of all covens (and not just the Emperor's Coven) AND principal at the same time, and she seems much more of a jerk to Eda in general; She has no qualms with cursing Eda because of a direct order from Obron.

Apparently the curse would've been an AGING spell, which settles my questions on how it would've been portrayed in earlier drafts! This goes along with Eda's older look. Likewise, there would've been a subplot of Eda considering Luz's sacrifice as a way to restore her youth, which likely goes hand in hand with Obron's orders to bring Luz to her, etc. The 'Bloom of Eternal Youth' quest, which Eda and Lilith go through together as their sisterly relationship is explored, feels like a carryover from this past idea.

I think I prefer the final draft; I like that the curse isn't just aging Eda, but also takes away her magic, makes her turn into a beast, etc. I like Lilith being a lot more complicated in her relationship with Eda, instead of just hating her and cursing her without hesitation. The redefining of the curse makes it less about age, and more a chronic illness metaphor, and I like how Eda in the final draft is upfront about having to learn to live with it, deal with it, on her own terms. She isn't trying to find a cure (although Lilith being promised one by Obron feels like a carryover of Eda's moral dilemma with Luz), and that adds another nice dimension to her conflict with Lilith, as well as Gwen. It's pretty frank in its own right about normalizing disability, and those who play an antagonistic role (however brief) are the real weirdoes for making such a fuss about it.

The Bat Queen would've had more of a recurring role based on the description, which saddens me; I always got the vibe she was planned for more, but between all of the other stuff the show had to juggle, plus the shortening, she ended up getting shafted despite being one of the earlier characters. Sashley, Pasha, and Bruno are also interesting, with Pasha in particular giving me freaking Philip Wittebane vibes with his grossness, beard, and anti-demon attitude; He even starts off as a potential friend to Luz because fellow human, only for his true bigotry to show. Makes me wonder if Philip ended up incorporating Pasha, we also have bodily transformation because of consuming magical stuff... P-names.

(Also, I like how in the drawing of typical Demon Realm denizens, I can see an eye demon who resembles a past drawing of Dana's!!!)

Eda was actually a late bloomer, which creates a parallel with Luz in one way, and their relationship is referred to as sisterly (in the final draft it’s explicitly maternal). So Eda wouldn't have been the talented youth, in fact things may have switched between her and Lilith; Lilith's disdain may have partially come from Eda not being as innately talented as her.

Luz and Amity's dynamic seems like it would've had Amity retain a lot of her more stand-offish, pragmatic personality even as a friend with Luz, and this would've come up more; So basically, she'd remain more like S1 Amity. That, or this part of their relationship would've lasted longer, and then we would've seen character development as Amity unlearns a lot of the issues her parents passed on. I also wonder if the Willow who cameos in the pilot was originally supposed to just be an extra separate from ‘Paulina’, but then they combined the two together.

The themes are exactly as I expected, glad to see they're still there, nothing changed! Luz becoming a witch and defying all odds to do so, putting in real work and passion. Celebrating individuality amidst conformity, plus Luz trying to impose her own fictional tropes onto the world, only to have to put that aside... Just like Wing it like Witches. It seems Amity would've had more involvement with Luz's journey to become a witch, though we still do have a carryover of that disconnect with her rant near the end of Covention.

I love the Demon Realm being situated BELOW the Human Realm, way to be subtle about being Hell you guys lol... Apparently portals to the human world are a lot rarer to find and use, which makes me wonder if the pilot's 'dimension port' doesn't have access to the human world; Meaning Amity is Luz's only way back, so her improved relationship with her is linked to getting back home. There's a gag about the Knee having service with the human world, but I can see how that didn't make the cut, for dramatic purposes; It seems like the premise for a S1 episode or at least a B-plot. Would Luz have struggled to communicate with Camila through this, or would her search for wi-fi be for mundane reasons?

Apparently Luz's magic would've required a lot more steps to complete, and I see why the show simplified things down to just glyphs. I wonder if there was always going to be the connection of glyphs as a gift from the Titan, or if the Titan and her story was going to be less intertwined in the overall narrative. There also don't seem to be nine main covens, just the many, many covens, some of which are pretty ridiculous, and Covention's sub-covens seem a callback to that.

Luz's first spell would've been levitation, and THEN she would've infiltrated Hexside, with Amity being a lot subtler about exposing Luz, though in the final draft she does figure that out as the way to go in I was a Teenage Abomination. Yeah, I prefer Light being her original spell, feels so much more symbolic and personal, etc. I wonder if the Titan is even as much of a character in early drafts, and if there's still the whole connection/relationship with the land and learning to respect it aspect. Some of these hypothetical episodes push the idea of Amity as a more episodic, typical popular kid antagonist, though in the final draft, the show goes through her character development and explores Amity's romantic relationship with Luz and its complications.

It seems the idea of the Mirror Ghost was split into Adegast and Vee, with Adegast being the one who offers the easier narrative for Luz to believe in about becoming a witch (only to be a fraud who uses uncanny puppets), and Vee being a doppelganger whom Luz communicates through with mirrors. Interesting how Yesterday's Lie was born from this. We saw the test animation from Spencer Wan for TOH, so I guess we know what Luz's puppet-doppelganger is called! And we can safely call her Proto-Vee. I wonder if she also would've been a sympathetic character, I always thought she reminded me of Lake from Infinity Train (and speculated her to be as such since Enchanting Grom Fright), and now the similarities are even MORE apparent!

Alas, The Good Witch Azura, or 'The Unassuming Princess' seems like it'd have been a lot less dear to Luz's heart, as the pilot also reflects; In the end, it turns out the author is just Eda's ex using her adventures as basis, and including private information. I remember when I once speculated that Raine, before we saw their face, would've been just like this as the author of Azura... Again, I think I prefer Azura as being a lot less mean-spirited in the final draft, and instead a celebration of who Luz is as a person, her relationship with fantasy and fiction, etc. We also would've had a Luz birthday party, the Quincenera we've been hoping for since S1...! In the final draft (and episode) we still get that Human-Demon Realm disconnect, though by that point, Luz is much more attuned and chill with the isles.

There’s definitely more of an episodic, sitcom feel to this pitch bible, especially when you compare Proto-Yesterday’s Lie to its final version. Makes sense, Dana is pitching this to Disney executives, though her statement on Understanding Willow feeling truly like her show makes me wonder if she always intended to push TOH in that more serious, emotional route we got.

#the owl house #the owl house pilot #king clawthorne #principal bump #hieronymous bump #luz noceda #the owl house tibbles #lilith clawthorne #eda clawthorne #edalyn clawthorne #amity blight #lumity #boiling isles #analysis #the good witch azura #meta #speculation

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hwashotcheeto · 7 hours

Text

𝑩𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅'𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 (10)

Best Friend's Mother Masterlist

Chapter: Ten

Milf!Park Seonghwa X gn!reader

Summary: Christmas has finally come. But with it, the end of Winter Break, and feelings that both you and Seonghwa are still too scared to confront.

WC: 6.3k

CW: Fluff, angst, suggestive but it cuts off

AN: I'm so sorry this took so long. I don't have much to say, other than this is more angsty than I planned, but I think it makes for a better story. I hope it's a good part one finale for you all, and you enjoy, as always. 💜

Tag List: @hyunjinsjeans @malldreamprincess @unlikelysublimekryptonite @goayeos @kittkat44 @babyxhoiz @asleepylilcat @mxnsxngie @rxnexxi @mommahwa1117 @acciocriativity @anxiousskylar @h3arteyes4mingi @jus2passtime @asjkdk @soso59love-blog @i-love-ateez @cb97s-laptop @multistanbaby

It was December 24th, and you were awake way earlier than you wanted to be, standing in a jewelry store, looking through the glass of the display case at the many expensive, gorgeous, necklaces.

But tomorrow was Christmas, and you needed a gift for Seonghwa, so sacrifices had to be made.

You’d already figured out a gift for Wooyoung ages ago, you had it wrapped and ready in your guest room at the house.

Now you were here, looking for a gift for his mother.

You often had moments where you still couldn’t believe the life you were currently living.

“Do you need help?” You snapped your head up to find the person who spoke to you, and your eyes found a sweet older woman, smiling at you from behind her glasses. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, dear.”

“No, it’s alright,” you said back, offering back a half smile as you tried to collect yourself. “I’m just looking for a last minute gift.

“Oh, well, what exactly are you looking for?” The older woman came closer, looking over the necklaces in the case as you were.

At that moment, you realized that you really didn’t know what to look for.

You had a good sense of Seonghwa’s style by now, but in terms of jewelry, you were a little stumped. In the month you’d been there, the three of you hadn’t really gone out, so none of you really “dressed up.”

But of the things you did see, you weren’t sure what he preferred. He usually wore chains, something elegant to go with his already sophisticated outfits.

But at the same time, you didn’t want a generic, expensive diamond necklace on a silver chain. Most necklaces looked like that, just a pretty pendant on a cheap, boring chain.

Of course, they had their own charm, and you had a few necklaces like that yourself. But you wanted to find him something special, something as unique as he was.

You were wishing you’d asked Wooyoung what Seonghwa would wear, but even you knew about Wooyoung’s inability to shut the fuck up. So if you did ask, you ran the risk of spoiling the surprise.

“I don’t really know,” you mumbled, putting your hands into the pocket of your hoodie.

“Well, maybe I can help you,” the older woman offered, giving you another sweet smile. You had to admit, in the back of your mind, you were doubtful. But you’d accept any help you could at that moment.

You nodded, and the older woman nodded back. “So, who is it for?”

You hesitated, even if this was the expected first question. Considering the previous day’s events, you were even more hesitant to even breathe a word of your infatuation with Seonghwa to anyone.

So you spit out some half formed excuse that you hoped sounded believable. “For someone I’ve been seeing.”

The older woman’s eyes lit up like stars as a big smile spread across her face. You couldn’t help but smile with her.

“Isn’t that precious?” She looked at the display cases again before she looked back at you. “What are they like? What do they like to wear?”

Like magic, there he was in your mind. Seonghwa, in his gorgeous dresses and outfits. Walking like a queen with the way he held himself. His gorgeous smile that lit up the world, and his bright doe eyes.

He was everything. He was wonderful.

“He’s very mature,” you began, not picking up on the fact that “he” was the pronoun that came out. “He dresses expensively. He’s a type that likes the finer things in life.”

“You’re looking for something a little more expensive?” The woman teased with a little grin, but you nodded in agreement. You did have a budget, as your student loan money that you were using couldn’t all go to a Christmas present.

But for Seonghwa, you’d do it.

“Come with me.” The older woman began walking around to a different display case, and the necklaces here were far more ornate and expensive than the ones you were looking at. Your heart stopped when you saw the price tag on one of them.

One of these necklaces could easily pay for at least half a year of your tuition. That was intimidating, to say the very least.

The older woman must’ve saw the color drain from your face, because she quickly leaned on the counter and spoke to you softly: “This is where I tell people to look for the piece they want, and then we usually find something more affordable that’s close to what they want.”

Your entire body sagged with relief.

So there you went, looking over the necklaces they had. These ones weren’t just jewels on a chain, they were much more detailed than that, more intricate. There was more color in them, more styles overall.

As you were weighing your options, you were imagining Seonghwa in your mind, picturing how he’d look with each of them, what he’d wear with them, how it would look against his honey skin.

A few times, you got a little too wrapped up in your fantasies and had to pull yourself back.

You repeated the process until your eyes landed on the one. The one you could perfectly see Seonghwa wearing.

It was a choker with a large red stone in the center, with many others around it. There were a few diamonds around it as well, but they were quite small.

It could’ve been a crown.

“This one?” The older woman asked, knocking you out of your thoughts and back to reality. You shook yourself and nodded, smiling. “It’s quite expensive, are you sure?”

You looked at the price tag, and the necklace would definitely drain your bank account.

But you wanted it. You wanted him to have it.

“Yes,” you said, nodding. “I want that one.”

The older woman hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded as well, and went to wrap up the choker. You watched as she took it and put it into a silk lined velvet box, laying it out carefully, as if she could feel the price of every gemstone.

You followed her around the counter to where she was going to ring it up, trying your best to not be impatient. But the older woman couldn’t help but smile at your fidgeting and shifting around.

Just thinking about Seonghwa wearing it, how pretty the red would look against his skin, the chains around his pretty neck-

“Please insert your card, dear,” the older woman called, still smiling brightly.

You babbled out a “sorry” as you fumbled for your card to pay for the choker. The old woman was still smiling as you went through with the payment.

And yes, the choker was incredibly expensive. No, it didn’t count as a student expense.

But it was worth it for Seonghwa.

The older woman pushed the bag across the counter to you. “There you go.” She flashed that sweet, warm smile at you again as you carefully lifted the bag off the counter. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

At that moment, you looked into her eyes. You looked for any deceit. Any lies. Any possible malice or potential push back.

But there was nothing. Just light and joy.

You smiled back and nodded as relief washed over you. “I think so too.”

You placed the bag underneath the Christmas tree, hiding it behind the present you got Wooyoung. Thankfully, the both of them were still asleep when you arrived back at the house.

A stark contrast to the night before, the house was quiet, and empty. No people, no music, nothing. Just a house, full of decorations.

But now, you were fortunate for everyone to be asleep so you could tuck your very expensive, very special present behind the others.

But since the moment you left the store, you were having doubts. You just spent a lot of money on Seonghwa. You bought him something very special, something most people don’t gift to others unless they’ve known each other for quite some time.

You hadn’t known Seonghwa for quite some time. In fact, most people would think you’re doing much more than you should so early on. Even you were thinking that.

But you couldn’t deny the ache in your chest when you thought about Seonghwa. The goddamn ache, the feeling that could’ve dropped you to your knees if you weren’t careful. The ache you felt all over your body when you didn’t get the chance to even hold his hand, to hug him, to be with him.

The crippling feeling when you thought about going back to campus and not seeing him for months.

Maybe you were falling too soon and too hard. Maybe this wasn’t right.

You moved to reach for the bag when you heard two doors open and close. As footsteps moved across the hardwood floor upstairs, you worked to get your jacket and shoes off as quickly and quietly as possible before the owners came downstairs.

You closed the door to the coat closet as Yeosang and Jongho made their way down the stairs, wearing what looked like Wooyoung’s shirts and shorts, their hair messy and eyes half open. You gave them the best smile you could muster at that point, but tried to not over do it.

“What are you doing up so early?” Jongho asked, his voice scratchy and low. Your eyes flicked up to the clock on the wall in the living room, above the TV, and it was just after seven. Would it be early if you were still on campus? No.

But you weren’t on campus, so yes, it was early.

But you realized you didn’t have an excuse as to why you were up so early.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” you babbled, trying to sound as nonchalant as you could manage. To your relief, the two half awake men in front of you weren’t in the mood to interrogate you.

“Us too,” Yeosang agreed, following Jongho into the kitchen. You did the same, getting glasses of water with them and sitting at the kitchen table.

None of you said anything for a few moments. You three were enjoying the early morning silence, the peace, the few stray strands of sunlight peeking in through the windows and stretching across the floor.

Eventually, Jongho broke the peaceful silence. “Do you think San and Wooyoung will be down before noon?”

Yeosang pretended to think as he took another sip from his glass. He looked off, as if into the distance, like he was prophesying about the future. You couldn’t help but laugh. The sound made Yeosang smile.

“No, I think they’ll be there until we go find them,” he concluded, finishing the rest of his water afterwards. You nodded in agreement, taking another sip from your glass.

“I expected the same from you.” Jongho looked at you over the rim of his glass as he sipped his water. You looked down as your face began to burn. You didn’t have an answer to that, so you kept quiet. But you knew your friends wouldn’t let you off easy.

Yeosang continued the conversation as he set his glass down in front of himself. “Yeah, it is a little weird that you’re awake so early, fully dressed, standing by the front door.”

Both men were looking at you now as you stared down at the table, your face burning like the sun, the heat pulsing in waves.

It’s not that you were worried that they’d spoil the surprise. You were more afraid of their opinions and judgements of the gift you got. You could handle the jokes and even fire back at them, and you welcomed the banter about the relationship you’d found yourself in.

But you were already beginning to have second thoughts about the expensive present sitting across the house, tucked away under the tree, hidden away from sight because you were embarrassed.

It was everything you were afraid of. Falling too hard too fast, committing to something larger than yourself, something you very well might not be ready for.

“Hey,” Jongho called, waving his hand close to your face. “You kinda spaced there, you okay?”

You blinked a few times, like you were rebooting yourself, and smiled as best you could. “Yeah, sorry, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Yeosang countered. Their slightly amused faces turned to ones of concern, their eyebrows down. They weren’t sure what exactly was in your head, but they knew it wasn’t nothing, like you were about to tell them it was.

And you knew they would push. But you didn’t want to vent all of your worries and fears and poor life choices at seven in the morning, especially when they didn’t know the full extent of the month’s events.

Thankfully, you had your out, as Wooyoung came down the stairs with San close behind. They both looked like they’d skipped the waking up part of waking up, with fluttering mostly closed eyes and their hair the best example of a “rat’s nest.”

Yeosang and Jongho looked up at them as they came into the kitchen, sliding their feet across the floor, hardly picking them up.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you said cheerfully, trying to steer the conversation to the two zombie looking men that strode in. The two men at the table, to your relief, joined you in teasing the others.

“The year hasn’t changed yet, just for reference,” Jongho threw out. Wooyoung rolled his eyes as he continued past the table to the cabinet to get himself and San a drink.

San followed him, stopping when he did, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung’s waist from behind and laying his head on the younger’s shoulder.

With the heat off you, you breathed a small sigh of relief. You knew this wouldn’t be the last of the conversation, but that would be a problem for future you to handle.

Seonghwa didn’t wake up until an hour after San and Wooyoung had. That was to be expected, after all the party planning and hosting he’d done the day prior. Not to mention, the emotional distress was quite draining.

Wooyoung helped him with breakfast, and you all ate with minimal conversation, of which you were grateful for. The less you spoke, the less chances you had to expose or incriminate yourself.

The rest of the morning was mostly slow and quiet. You were all still recovering and resting from the previous day, and dreading the end of Winter Break as a whole.

Classes started again in the second week of January, but you and Wooyoung had agreed to be back on campus by January 1st.

If you weren’t counting Christmas Eve, the day you were thinking all of this, you had only one week left. Seven more days until you had to leave.

It didn’t help that Seonghwa was being particularly clingy that day. He sat next to you at breakfast, he was holding your hand, he was giving you little kisses.

He hugged you from behind as you were helping with the dishes, holding you tight while his body pressed into yours.

He wordlessly demanded cuddles from you when everyone dispersed after breakfast. He pulled you onto the couch and held you tight, almost falling right back asleep when he did.

You didn’t think, or really even wanted to, ask why Seonghwa was so attached to you that day. You told yourself it was because he was tired. Or maybe he realized you would be leaving in a week too.

Whatever it was, you were conflicted.

You couldn’t stop thinking as you laid in Seonghwa’s arms, your head on his chest. You wanted to relax into his warmth and safety and let the tension melt off your body.

But you kept thinking of that goddamn choker. The choker you were so proud of finding, that you gladly spent so much money on, the choker that you knew would look amazing on him.

It was stuck in your head because you didn’t know if you were actually going to give it to him or not.

Maybe you’d just take it back to campus with you and save it for another time. Maybe you’d return it altogether. You’d just sit with Wooyoung as Seonghwa opened the Lego sets Wooyoung said you both could take credit for.

Maybe that was the safer option. Maybe that was the less crazy option.

But as you began to accept that conclusion and make peace with it, the ache was back.

As you listened to Seonghwa’s steady heartbeat, feeling his hand run up and down your back, the ache returned with a burning passion. Your breathing grew labored, like the ache was genuinely squeezing your heart and forcing the air out of your lungs.

Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined shoving the choker’s bag into your own and taking it back to campus with you. The ache spread to your arms and legs as you thought about never presenting the gift to him, and simply just watching him open the presents Wooyoung bought.

Your whole body hurt. It felt like a pulsing, squeezing pain, and you couldn’t escape it. You couldn’t stop the tears from running down your face.

You’d fallen in too deep. You fell too hard, too fast.

Everything you’d been afraid of had happened exactly as you thought it would.

By the time your friends left, the sky was already darkening again. As much as you all would’ve loved for them to stay, they had families to go home to as well.

You wondered how long it would be before San and Wooyoung were consistently going to each other’s family events. Or even hosting their own.

But it was hours since then, and you were sitting back on the couch with Seonghwa and Wooyoung. Seonghwa sat between the two of you, his arm around your shoulders, holding you tight against him, with Wooyoung sitting the same way.

But Wooyoung was stretched across most of the couch and his arms were dramatically thrown around Seonghwa, like he was a figure in a painting you’d find in an old museum.

You three had agreed to get snacks and drinks and watch Christmas movies until midnight, when you could open your gifts for each other.

But the movies kept getting interrupted by Wooyoung being impatient, general commentary, and before you all knew it, you were all talking again with the movies long forgotten.

In a way, you preferred this. The more time you spent talking, the less time you had to think about the impending time of your decision. But as the clock ticked down, as midnight drew closer, your efforts were in vain.

All you could think of was that goddamn choker. The repeated question of “will you, won’t you” flashing across your eyes like some kind of horror montage.

You started to feel sick. Your stomach was churning, your head felt light. You were pretty sure you were beginning to turn green. All over a fucking choker.

Midnight drew ever closer, and the dread in your stomach intensified and grew with every second that ticked by. Your eyes kept jumping back and forth, from the clock on the wall to the TV and back again.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Wooyoung sat up and yelled, “It’s Christmas!”

Your hands were slightly shaking as Wooyoung got up from the couch and pulled you and Seonghwa along, dragging you across the room to kneel down by the Christmas tree.

The warm lights of the tree that once brought you comfort now nearly made you vomit.

You swallowed it back as you settled next to the tree on the hardwood floor, pushing the bag with the choker further back into the corner. Your wrapped your arm around your back in an effort to do so as subtly as possible.

Seonghwa also came to sit on the floor in front of the tree between you and Wooyoung, but only after he’d gotten a trash bag to put the discarded wrapping paper in. Wooyoung happily shoved a box towards Seonghwa, a huge smile stretched across his face.

“We got this one for you!” He dropped the present in Seonghwa’s lap as he reached over to grab the other boxes that had Seonghwa’s name on the tag. “And these ones too.”

Seonghwa pouted, but then smiled warmly at his son. Oh, how ethereal he looked under the light of the Christmas tree, delicately highlighting his warm skin and putting sparkles in his eyes.

You shook your head and came back to the present as Seonghwa began to tear the wrapping paper off the box in his lap. His smile grew bigger the more he revealed the box, and finally laughed in excitement.

“Oh, nae sarang,” Seonghwa sighed, putting the wrapping paper in the trash bag. “This is so sweet of you, thank you.”

Wooyoung was absolutely beaming, his smile outshining the tree beside him. His eyes flicked over to you, and you couldn’t help but share his smile. Seonghwa looked at you too, and your heart fluttered at the genuine gratitude in them.

“Thank you too, jagiya.”

You just nodded, your heart cracking a little.

But you happily watched Seonghwa tear open the rest of the boxes. His eyes lit up every time, laughing in pure joy at the brand new expensive Lego sets. You nodded every time he said thank you, but guilt pulled at your heart knowing you didn’t actually contribute in any way.

But Wooyoung didn’t seem to mind. He was just as happy seeing Seonghwa open the presents, as if he was the one receiving them instead of giving them out.

You were truly the luckiest person to have Wooyoung.

After Seonghwa had finished unwrapping the Lego boxes, he stacked them up and put them aside, and then pulled Wooyoung into a tight hug.

“Thank you, nae sarang,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re welcome, Eomma,” Wooyoung whispered, squeezing Seonghwa tighter.

Your heart cracked again.

Wooyoung pulled away from Seonghwa and reached back under the tree for a bag. It looked fairly inconspicuous, just a regular white bag with white tissue paper sticking out the top. But in your experience with Wooyoung, quiet and boring was always suspicious.

Seeing your hesitation, Wooyoung sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not a bomb, don’t look at it like that,” he whined. “Just open it.”

“It’s a bag, it’s already open,” you teased, to which Wooyoung groaned and rolled his head back. Both you and Seonghwa let out a soft giggle.

“Just open it, please!”

With another giggle, you pulled the tissue paper aside and looked into the bag, seeing a bundle wrapped in more tissue paper. You carefully pulled it out and pulled the paper off to reveal the gift.

“Wooyoung,” you breathed as you looked over the expensive outfit in your hands. The logo on the tag was what you saw first, your head shooting up to look at him in bewilderment. “What is this?”

“Clothes, dummy,” he answered with his award winning smile again. “Now you don’t have to borrow my clothes for events.”

You know his comment was a joke, but his words went straight to your heart. You hadn’t asked for this, Hell, you didn’t even think about buying it for yourself.

But you finally had a nice outfit for events, or parties.

Or maybe even future restaurant dates.

“Thank you.” You carefully folded the clothes back up, as if they’d unravel in your hands, and laid them back in the bag.

“You don’t have to thank me, it was a necessity.”

You rolled your eyes, to which Wooyoung just smiled. You couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same.

“Is it my turn now?” Seonghwa asked as you put the bag aside. Your eyes caught a glimpse of your own gift behind the tree again.

“Sure,” you breathed, your lungs shrinking. Wooyoung eagerly reached under the tree and grabbed a box, wrapped in gold wrapping paper, with his name written on it in Hangul.

He wasted no time in shredding the paper, almost reminiscent of a cat, and revealed a large, expensive laptop. Wooyoung just stared at it for a few moments with his jaw hanging open, his eyes the size of dinner plates.

“Eomma,” he whispered, then looked up at Seonghwa. “When I said I wanted a new one, I wasn’t serious,” he started to explain, but Seonghwa held up his hand to stop him.

“I don’t care, I wanted to get it for you. And I think college would be a little difficult with a broken laptop.”

You held back a giggle remembering the moment Wooyoung dramatically wailed about how he accidentally knocked his previous laptop off a table and onto the linoleum floor of the classroom.

Wooyoung just stared at Seonghwa for a few moments, like he was about to tell his son it was all a joke. But when Seonghwa just smiled at him, in the warm mom way, Wooyoung smiled too and hugged the box.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, nae sarang.”

Wooyoung set the box aside carefully, slowly setting it down beside him, making sure it would be safe before he turned to you and Seonghwa.

You looked up at Seonghwa, and he smiled at you warmly before he reached over and squeezed your hand. “Your present comes later.”

It took every ounce of strength to not burst into tears right then and there. You just mustered up the best smile you could and nodded. There was no teasing look in Seonghwa’s eyes, no allusion to more. Just his warm smile and bright eyes.

“Eomma, I didn’t need to know that,” Wooyoung groaned dramatically, speaking loudly as he flung himself back to lay on the floor. You rolled your eyes as Seonghwa pulled his hand away and looked back at Wooyoung.

“It’s not like that,” he began, but Wooyoung just whined again.

“If you’re gonna be like that, then I won’t give you your present,” you added as you pulled out a large, black bag from under the tree, with black wrapping paper sticking out of it.

Wooyoung shot up and looked at you, and then at the bag, then back again in confusion. His brows went down as he opened his mouth to question you, but you just slid the bag across the floor to him.

“I’ve had them hidden for months,” you explained as wooyoung grabbed the bag.

“Them?”

“Yes, them, now go look!”

Wooyoung looked at the bag again, this time with a look of concern instead of confusion, like something was about to jump out at him. He studied the still bag for a few more moments before he finally pulled out the tissue paper and looked inside.

And he pulled out two small plushies: A black cat and a red fox.

Wooyoung gasped as he pulled them out, then hugged them tightly. “You remembered!” He exclaimed as he looked at them again, turning them over and admiring all the little details.

Months prior, Wooyoung wouldn’t stop talking about these plushies he wanted. He had a collection going, and he needed those two to complete it, but he never had a chance to get them.

So one night, you did. You ordered them online and hid them in your dorm for months, waiting for the day you could’ve given it to Wooyoung.

And here you were, on Christmas Day, finally seeing his eyes light up like stars as he looked at them both, hugging them like they were his children.

The sight helped alleviate some of the tension in your chest.

“Thank you,” he finally said to you as he looked up. You smiled, and this time, it was genuine.

“You’re welcome.”

Meanwhile, Seonghwa was smiling just as brightly. The mom smile you adored, the softness in his eyes as he looked at you both with unending fondness.

It cracked your heart all over again.

With all your presents exchanged, Seonghwa and Wooyoung collected their gifts and went to bring them to their rooms.

You did the same, but hid the choker bag in the gift bag Wooyoung gave you, and ran to your room to hide it there.

How ridiculous this all was. You bought the choker for Seonghwa, you brought it home, you’d imagined how beautiful he’d look with it. You’d walked out of that store knowing he’d gratefully accept the gift, and you were excited to see him wear it.

But how could you give someone like him something like this? This was far too much money for someone you haven’t known for nearly enough time.

But you bought it because of the goddamn pain in your chest. The suffocating, choking ache that grew ever stronger every day. It invaded every part of your body, it was in your blood and bones. Even if you wanted to smother it and shove it away, it would take forever.

You knew what it was. You knew why it was there.

But you didn’t have the courage to say it. Which is why the choker was getting shoved in the duffle bag and into the closet as you fought back tears.

Maybe you’d give it to Seonghwa another day. Maybe as a birthday present, whenever that was.

But not now. You couldn’t do it now.

As you wiped the tears from your eyes, there was a gentle knock at the door before it opened a little.

“May I come in?” It was Seonghwa, you knew it was him before he even spoke.

You nodded, as if he could see that, as you said “yes” and sat down on the bed. Seonghwa came into the room and carefully shut the door behind him before he came to sit down next to you.

In his hand was a square, navy, velvet box, about the side of a small plate. He held it out to you with a warm smile that would have melted the coldest of hearts. You took the box from him carefully, like it would disappear at any second, and were surprised when it had a little weight to it.

“It’s okay,” he said softly when you hesitated, putting one of his hands over yours. You looked up and met his big, brown eyes again. “It’s all yours, jagiya.”

You just nodded, because you couldn't think of anything meaningful to say as your eyes fell back down to the box in your hands.

You shoved away the guilt that stirred in your gut as you slowly opened the velvet case, and tears welled in your eyes all over again.

It’s like Seonghwa knew you were buying him a choker earlier, and that you wanted something with more detail and intricacies.

A necklace, but there were gemstones all up the chain with a larger one hanging from the bottom. The gemstones on the chain were small and simple. not trying to be in the way, but just to elevate the chain.

The larger, square cut gemstone that hung from the ornate chain was meant to be in the way. It wasn’t obnoxiously large, no, it was just perfect.

Everything was perfect. You were blinking back tears, it was so perfect.

“Seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you whispered, your throat closing up. You ran your fingers over the gemstones, almost like you needed to touch it to see if it was real.

Seonghwa was beaming, lighting up the whole room with his smile as he watched you admire the necklace. “You said you wanted something to show off.”

“And I will.” You carefully lifted the necklace out of the box, and as you were going to put it on, Seonghwa stopped you and reached up to take it.

“May I?” Two simple words. Words that were very small and insignificant to anyone else.

But this moment felt like much more than just putting on a necklace.

It almost felt sacred. Intimate. Like a ceremony.

You nodded and gave the necklace to Seonghwa. He moved closer and wrapped it around your neck, reaching over your shoulder to clasp it behind your neck. You felt your face burn at how close he was, with his arms around you, his body enveloping yours.

But he pulled back just a few seconds later to admire how the beautiful piece sat against your skin. Seonghwa’s eyes lit up like stars as his smile spread across his whole face again. “I knew it was perfect,” he said softly as he ran his fingers down the chain.

If your heart could beat any harder, the large stone on the necklace would’ve started shaking. It was a bizarre feeling, to be so guilty and torn up, but so elated, and desire the man before you.

And when Seonghwa’s eyes flicked up to yours, it’s as if he could see it all. Every tear, every smile, eerie second guess you’d ever had. Like he could see the entire month of December replaying in your eyes in those few seconds.

There were no other words spoken as Seonghwa leaned close and pressed his lips to yours. It was a soft kiss, feather light. Loving.

When Seonghwa laid you down on your back, your body turned to putty in his hands. Your limbs were growing weak as you wrapped them around his body. You wanted him as close as close could be, wanted to remember his taste, every soft moan as he breathed his life into every kiss, the touch of his hands on every part of your body.

You wanted it all. And Seonghwa was more than happy to provide.

The first day of the new year had come and gone. The thirty one days of December went by faster than they had in previous years.

But as you and Wooyoung loaded your bags back up into his car, you were anything but joyful.

“We’ll visit again during Spring Break,” he reassured you as he closed the trunk. “And it’s not like you don’t have his number, you can still talk to him.”

Wooyoung was trying his best to reassure you, but his face fell when he realized nothing was working. Everything he was telling you, you already knew it. Obviously you’d see Seonghwa again, and you’d probably be texting him at least once every few days, if not every day.

The world was not ending. This blissful period did, but it wasn’t the end of everything. You’d be back, you’d see Seonghwa again.

But the months between January 1st and Spring Break would be difficult after the month you’d just lived through.

It felt juvenile. You were a grown adult in college, working towards a degree to hopefully secure a good career and have a comfortable life. You had classes to worry about, not your boyfriend who’s double your age.

But he wouldn’t ever leave your head. You knew in your head that when you went back to class, he’d probably be there in the back of your head.

An effort in mental gymnastics is what these next few months would hold.

Wooyoung brought you back up to the house for your final goodbyes. Seonghwa was standing in the open doorway, dressed in a cream knitted sweater with black sweatpants. Normally, he was dressed up in some way, even if it was a pajama set. Today, he hadn’t bothered with fashion.

Wooyoung hugged him first, squeezed him so tight, he lifted Seonghwa off the floor. For the first time that morning, you smiled as they both laughed. The noise of surprise and protest Seonghwa let out just made Wooyoung hoist him up more, until all three of you were laughing.

“How could you put your poor eomma through such things?” Seonghwa asked in a perfectly dramatic voice as he made a show of fixing his hair and sweater.

“As if you’re any better,” Wooyoung teased. Seonghwa just smiled and kissed his head, to which Wooyoung reciprocated with a cheek kiss.

“Be safe, nae sarang.”

“I will, Eomma.”

They exchanged an “I love you” before Wooyoung walked away, and gave you a nod before he went to sit in the car to wait.

It was like a movie scene. The sun was setting, the snow was falling. The sunset colors illuminated your face as Seonghwa gave you a half hearted smile.

You wordlessly hugged him tightly, and he instantly returned the hug. You two stayed there in that hug, silently clinging onto each other like it would be the last time.

It wouldn’t be the last time. Far from it.

But you both found something that December. You found someone. And it was so special, you couldn’t bear to lose it.

As you pulled back to look up at him, the little voice was in your head again. Telling you that you were taking this too seriously, that you shouldn’t have been so upset, that this wasn’t a big deal.

The voice disappeared as Seonghwa pulled you into another loving kiss. The idea that this was a movie scene popped back into your head as he held your cheek and kept you close.

You could've sworn you heard your heart break when you both pulled away.

“Be safe,” Seonghwa softly said onto your lips. You nodded as you painstakingly pulled out of his arms.

“I will. You too.”

Seonghwa gave you another small smile. His eyes flicked down to the necklace that you still wore. You’d worn it every day since the night he gave it to you, and kept it in it’s case every night.

You smiled back before you forced yourself to walk back to Wooyoung’s car. Seonghwa watched from the doorway until Wooyoung’s car disappeared, and he could no longer hear it.

Wooyoung reached over the center console and held your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and squeezing. He didn’t need to say anything, no words needed to be said.

But as you were swallowing back the tightness in your throat and blinking back tears, the comfort felt good. The firm squeeze was what you needed, as you both were headed back to campus, unsure of where life was going to bring you both next.

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed! 💜

This is a work of fiction written by me. This does not represent the idol(s) in any way. Any re-upload is not allowed and will be reported.

#ateez #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez ff #ateez x reader #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fic #seonghwa ff #seonghwa x reader #best friend's mother

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strangerthingsreversebigbang · 1 day

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In case you missed them, here are the next ten works posted from the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang!

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The Moon Turns Gold by @pearynice | Art by @hereforanepilogue

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): Graphic Descriptions of Violence

Character(s): Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, Max Mayfield, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Jason Carver

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/ Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley

Summary: Having been forced to bear witness to his parent's toxic soulmate bond, Eddie Munson promises himself he will never fall in love. Promises himself he will never curse another with the touch that will bind his soul to theirs, promises himself to never let another do the same to him in return. But in the spring of 1986, when Chrissy Cunningham is murdered in front of him, breaking those exact promises may prove to be what saves him.

Late Bloomers by @mojowitchcraft | Art by @arimakes

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Warnings

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Original Characters, Melissa (Stranger Things), Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Jim "Chief" Hopper

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington

Summary: Two men walk into a gay bar.

One thinks he’s straight, one thinks he’s vanilla.

Both of them are idiots.

Where the Sunflowers Grow by @aidaronan | Art by @lady-lostmind

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s):

Character(s): Chrissy Cunningham, Robin Buckley, Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Original Characters, El Hopper

Relationship(s): Chrissy Cunningham/Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson, Background Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Background Steve Harrington/Robin Buckley

Summary:

Where does a dead girl fit in a world that has already mourned her?

That's one of the many questions Chrissy has to answer after El brings her back. Luckily, she's not alone. Her new best friend, Eddie, came back with her. Still, there's only so far friendship can take her as she navigates this new reality.

Some roads must be traveled alone. Other roads, well, it would be nice to have someone else along for the ride. Someone who knows what it's like to have nightmares that feel too real. Someone who can look past the scars and see the soul beneath.

A recovery narrative first, a romance second, Where the Sunflowers Grow explores the impact of friendship, chosen family, and love.

Duck, Dodge, Don't Fall In Love by @steddieasitgoes | Art by @llamaalpacca

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary: After getting kicked off the basketball team, Steve Harrington finds himself stuck in fifth-period gym. When Eddie gets knocked out by a dodgeball, Steve is the only one who comes to his aid. To repay him for his heroic duties, Eddie invites Steve back to the Munson Mobile™ for a smoke.

Now I Know That Light Guided Me Here by @transmascsteveharrington | Art by @paintedpatroclus

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary:

“My lord,” Steve says and shifts onto his knees in an attempt to bow. To be humble. To show his respect. To admit to his own mortal inferiority. He grits his teeth through it. “Shit, my lord, you can cut the formalities, darling,” the god chuckles. “Though I do like seeing you on your knees.” “What should I call you then?” Steve asks. “Your divine presence? Celestial master? Pompous ass?” The god just laughs and glances over his shoulder at his own ass. “Not much there to be considered pompous, I’m afraid,” he says before he turns back to Steve, no trace of the anger that Steve is choking on found in his face. “I like celestial master, has some dramatic flair to it. But Eddie will do just fine.” “God of wine making and pleasure,” Steve says automatically. “Also of orchards and fruit, fertility, ritual madness, religious ecstasy and theater, darling,” Eddie does a little bow himself. “At your service.”

or: after helping Tommy slay the minotaur, Steve gets left behind on a small island to die. That's where he meets Eddie, god of wine and pleasure. Steve doesn't like gods, but this one is different. This one might help him heal from all his trauma, guilt, and broken heart.

Emergence by @soaringornithopter | Art by @alduade-art

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Character(s): Lucas Sinclair, Lucas' Parents, Max Mayfield, Jason Carver

Relationship(s): Lucas Sinclair / Maxine "Max" Mayfield

Summary:

Lucas Sinclair's plan to leave Jason Carver and his other teammates behind at Hopper's abandoned cabin didn't work. Jason was too suspicious, which led to dire circumstances. Alone and terrified, Lucas must rely on his own wits and resourcefulness to escape what may become his grave.

A Dream on the Way to Death by @ghostdeb | Art by @alicetallula

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

Character(s): Steve Harrington; Eddie Munson; Billy Hargrove; Maxine "Max" Mayfield; Robin Buckley; Wayne Munson; Jim "Chief" Hopper; Joyce Byers; Jonathan Byers; Bob Newby (Stranger Things); Henry Creel | One | Vecna; Martin Brenner; Jason Carver; Tommy Hagan; Patrick McKinney; Andy (Stranger Things); The Party (Stranger Things)

Summary:

It’s the early 1990s in Hawkins Indiana and Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, and Billy Hargrove are in love and building a life together. They've settled into a serene, comfortable existence as new homeowners, living a quiet life on the edge of town, together with Billy's sister Max.

They're happy.

Life is good.

Until the local church hires a firebrand to lead the congregation and he creates an intense atmosphere of fear, paranoia, and hostility toward anything out of alignment with the teachings of the church.

The boys have a target on their backs. Things are bound to go horribly wrong.

And when they do, Steve will have the benefit of a supernatural guide to help him put things right.

Who's Sorry Now? by @aidaronan | Art by @farahsamboolents

Rating: Teens and Up

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Joyce Byers, Jim "Chief" Hopper, Jonathan Byers, Henry Creel | One | Vecna, Steve Harrington

Relationship(s): Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper

Summary: When Vecna goes after Joyce Byers, it's a race against time for Jim Hopper and Jonathan. And it's a tumble through nightmares for Joyce, until she realizes that sometimes a person's horrors can also be weapons.

Emotional Motion Sickness by @sidekick-hero | Art by @arimakes

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson

Relationship(s): Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Summary:

"This is actually my first time in a gay bar and I had no idea it was a theme night, that people would be here looking for... for... leather and chains and whatnot. If I knew that, I wouldn't have come." It comes out in a rush, the words stumbling over each other in his haste to get them out as quickly as possible.

Steve fights the urge to bury his head in his hands again, but part of him is glad he got it all out. Now he can only hope that Eddie still wants to talk to him, because he likes Eddie, and he may not be into the same things as him, but maybe... Steve doesn't know what he's hoping for, only that he doesn't want his night to end without at least getting Eddie's number.

Maybe they can at least be friends. Steve really needs more gay friends, ones who don't send him to a bar without telling him they have theme nights.

OR: Steve goes to his first gay bar after moving to New York with Robin and gets more than he could have hoped for.

In the Shape of a Girl by @staceymcgillicuddy | Art by @artgroves

Rating: Explicit

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply

Character(s): Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie Munson

Relationship(s): Chrissy Cunningham/Eddie Munson

Summary: Eddie hadn’t thought about Chrissy in years. Then she walked out from behind that screen and stripped out of her robe as if she’d been doing it all her life, at which point he realized he’d never actually known her at all.

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Stay tuned for more incredible works from the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang!

#stranger things #stranger things reverse big bang #strbb #posting round up #steddie #buckingham #lumax #harringroveson #jopper #hellcheer

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illusionsofdreaming · 2 days

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birds without feet;

Notes: I return to the blog with this monster of a ficlet. This was actually written for @nin-deer who very graciously allowed me to share it on the blog as well. A small imagine that grew out of control haha... enjoy~ Ft: Beacrox

It was but a subtle shift of air that caused him to abandon his project. In an instant, he whipped around, knife in hand, its sharp blade poised just above the intruder's jugular, ready to cut deep with the slightest pressure.

Despite the threat of a blade at your neck, your smile was relaxed as you lifted the roll of parchment in your hand. “Delivery!”

His eyes quickly scanned the kitchen, noting the shifted curtains he pieced together your point of entrance. Only when you wiggled the paper impatiently did he finally drop the knife and swiped the parchment from your hand, ignoring your huff of laughter as he scanned over its contents.

“It’s nice to see you too Beacrox. How have you been?”

Your attempts at casual banter were ignored, but the moment you began reaching for the food on the table, his gaze snapped to yours, promising pain should you attempt further.

You were wise enough to heed his warning as you stepped back, hands raised in surrender. “Sheesh, you’re not going to make any friends if you keep acting this way.”

Crumpling the piece of paper, he threw it into the fireplace as you clicked your tongue in mock annoyance.

Had he cared for your opinion, he might’ve been annoyed, alas it was easy to dismiss as he threw a pouch in your direction, the clink of gold muted as you caught it from the air. He watched as you tossed the bag a few times before pocketing it.

You must have caught the confusion on his face as you glanced up with a grin. “I know you won’t cheat me of my payment.”

Though it was the truth—Molan’s motto was always to repay what’s due—such blatant admission of trust from someone working in the dark underbelly of society puzzled him, and without meaning to, he’d let his displeasure slip through. “It could’ve been filled with rocks.”

You blinked, head tilted as if you’re considering the possibility, then you laughed. “Then I suppose I’ll be a few pretty rocks richer.”

He scowled and returned to his work, grabbing his knife to hide the flush of annoyance he felt by your flippant answer. You knew such responses would annoy him, and he refused to give you the satisfaction of being correct.

One does not survive long in the underworld with their morals and innocence intact. Your deliberate pushing of buttons was another tactic to wheedle information from your targets, and he wasn't inclined on revealing anything. You already know far too much as is.

“Leave,” he ordered, his limited patience well and truly spent.

“Always a pleasure talking to you, Bea~”

He threw the knife in his hand, but by the time he turned around, you were already gone. The only evidence of your visit was the lingering echoes of your laughter and a missing tart from the plate of desserts he'd prepared earlier.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

As you kept the package just out of his reach, he couldn’t help but think: for a grown person jaded by the underworld, you sure liked acting like a child at times.

“You just thought of something rude didn’t you?”

His gaze snapped to yours. “You forget who you’re dealing with.” he warned coldly. The Molan household might have fallen from grace but just because he had traded his daggers for kitchen knives, they were no less lethal in his hands. Was it confidence or foolishness that made you dare to test his patience?

The silence in the kitchens was deafening as your eyes met across the counter.

“I haven’t,” You said finally, “not once.” Your smile was wry and lacked its usual cheer but the heaviness in your tone bore the weight of many secrets, of someone who knew far more than what they’re letting on. He’s faced with an uncanny sense of unbelonging and emptiness that seemed eerily familiar.

But with a blink of an eye, the mask that had slipped had righted itself. “I have a change of mind,” You sat on the edge of the counter island, tension and somber mood shaken off, replaced with an all too sunny smile. “I’d like another form of payment for the information I’m selling.”

He felt anger lick up his throat as his fist clenched above the table. “That was not part of our deal.”

“An amendment to the agreement then, if you will-”

“I refuse.”

Your peals of laughter filled the room, “You didn’t even let me finish!”

“I refuse.” He repeated sternly. Knowing your personality, it would be an amendment that would greatly irritate or inconvenience him.

“I’d like you to cook a dish for me.” You continued, ignoring his words.

There was a sharp snap as the corner of the table cracked under his hand as incredulity stole over his face.

To begin with, payment for your services had never been cheap, each bag of gold was worth more than several months’ worth of food. If all you wanted was a decent meal, then you’ve already been charging enough to dine at any of Roan kingdom’s finest restaurants.

“It’s not a dish that can be found on any menu in the kingdom.” You tutted as if you knew the thoughts that were going through his head. “It’s not something that can be bought with gold.”

You’re pulling his leg. “And why do you think I’d care to create a dish no one’s heard of?” Beacrox asked through gritted teeth.

“I know you don’t.” You laughed, lips slanted with a smile. “It’s something I’ve tasted a long time ago but have no idea how it’s made. I’ll describe what I remember and if you believe it’s impossible to recreate or not worth the hassle,” you shrugged in an exaggerated display of nonchalance, “then I’ll take the usual payment like nothing’s changed. It’s a good deal for you right?”

Nothing about this deal made sense. You’re essentially offering your services for free while he’d benefit regardless of whether he succeeds in recreating the dish or not. His expression was stiff as he crossed his arms.

You set the package down on the table gently and slid a piece of folded paper next to it. “Take your time to think about it.” You offered as you pulled your hood up. You left the kitchens as quietly as you’d arrived, leaving him to brood in the silence left behind.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Here.” he sets the completed project on the table with the reluctance of a person who would rather be anywhere else but in the kitchens at that very moment. He folded his arms, pinning his hands to his chest, resisting the urge to snatch the plate and throw it in the trash, calling off the deal.

Beacrox had no expectations of being able to recreate a dish he had never heard of. Yet, from the moment he set the plate down, you stiffened in place, your pleasant smile melting away, replaced by shock.

“Well?”, You flinched as he prompted impatiently. You pulled the dish closer, your smile weak and crooked.

“I was just a bit surprised that’s all..” your voice trailed off.

He filed your reactions away in the back of his mind.

Your grip was uncertain but eventually you picked a piece from the plate and placed it in your mouth.

You froze in place, and he immediately slid a cup of water and bowl over.

But you surprised him when you kept it in and swallowed. “It…” He watched as your face straightened slowly, all visible emotions ironed away into one of careful neutrality.

“..tastes nothing like it.”

When vague subjective descriptions on a slim piece of paper were all that he had to work with, he’d expected this outcome. The bag of gold he had prepared in advance was tossed onto the table as he reached to retrieve the dish, only to be deterred when sharp pain sprang across the back of his hand. The surprise he felt from the fact he’d failed to catch your movements was swiftly replaced by irritation when he realised you’d slapped him.

His eyes narrowed, “What are you-“

“I’m taking it.” you said and to his utter confusion, went on to shove another bite in your mouth.

“You just said-“

“I know what I said.” you huffed, “I never said the dish had to taste right did I? It’s a good first try-“ His eyebrows lifted as you suddenly lost the ability to maintain eye contact with him. “Anyways, I’ll be the judge of what’s accepted and I say this passes.”

You've always been an eccentric character, but just when he thought you couldn't faze him further, you managed to render him speechless yet again. Till now, he’s yet to figure out your intention behind your request, if taste was not a priority then what use was creating the dish you’re looking for?

“Get out of my kitchen.”

“But I haven’t-“

“Out.”

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

Of all the informants in the kingdom, none possessed skills that could surpass yours. It was why, despite the many headaches you induced, Beacrox had chosen to suffer your pestering for so long.

Not one of his sources has ever confirmed how you acquire your information or seen you in action. Yet the intelligence you provide, which has, at many times, sounded unbelievable, had been proven to be true time and time again.

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was that, despite the ease with which you uncover others' secrets, the same couldn’t be said vice versa. Little to no information could be found regarding your background, whatever was found was obviously doctored, being far too mundane for someone of your skills. You were either incredibly thorough at covering your tracks or an experienced fraudster, and Beacrox was inclined on believing the latter.

Your unpredictable behaviour made it hard to judge whether you’re an ally or foe, so it was only natural that he’d sought for leverage to hold against you in case there’ll be a day you’d decide to betray them and sell their secrets to their enemies.

That was the only reason he would consider playing along with your games.

Though he knew not the significance of these dishes to you, he had hoped they would provide some insight on your background or places you’ve been to where other sources have failed to narrow down.

But of course even the meals you’d request would be harder if not just as difficult to trace as well.

It was only a matter of time before you caught onto his intentions, after all, he’d never kept his investigations a secret. Yet instead of pulling back like he’d expected, you had become bolder in your requests, eyes sparkling with mischief as if you understood the frustration he was going through and still remain one infuriating step ahead of him at all times.

He’d considered the possibility that you could be pulling his leg, but there was something about the nostalgia in your eyes as you taste each dish that made Beacrox believe in their authenticity.

He glanced at a small box hidden by the side, within held a small but steadily growing pile of recipes of unknown origins. Not for the first time, Beacrox found himself questioning if all these peaceful days have turned him soft after all.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

A familiar, unwelcome figure was sitting in his fresh crate of produce.

A quick scan around the area confirmed that you were alone and he walked over to assess your state. A splatter trail led up to the crate you sat on and his brows furrowed in distaste. The darkness made it difficult to immediately see any obvious signs of injuries and when you made no reaction to his presence, he kicked the crate below you.

“Ow.” you stirred, complaining with a soft laugh.

Conscious.

“Why are you here?”

Your unannounced visit broke one of many unspoken rules governing their kind. As people maintaining a delicate facade, unexpected visits were not merely discouraged but deemed perilous. No one would fault him should he choose to silence you then and there - such was the severity of your faux pas - yet he stood, only mildly irritated, at the disruption you’ve brought to a peaceful night.

It took a moment longer than he liked before you gathered enough strength to speak. “Sorry,” you apologised and for once, actually sounding it. “I just need a little rest. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Your laboured breathing and unfocused gaze suggested otherwise and he folded his arms as the dreadful feeling of his plans for an early night slipped through his fingers like fine sand.

“How bad is it?”

Impatiently he waited for you to process his words, your sluggishness a strange contrast to your usually sharp wit and quick retorts.

“It’s been treated.”

The smell of blood was sharp and acrid, he would have to clean the stains soon if he wished to avoid its scent lingering in the area. “I will not ask again.” He warned.

You were exhausted, it could be seen from your posture and expression. Though he understood the instinct to hide one’s weakness, from the moment you chose to rest here it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ the truth comes out but a matter of ‘when’ and Beacrox would preferred if it happened sooner rather than later.

Just as he was contemplating the benefits of leaving you to your fate, your lips loosened. “Stab wound on the left, missed vitals. I’ve been tended to but some of the stitches might have opened up.”

That would explain the bloody trail you left. He should count his blessings that it didn’t sound too bothersome, assuming you hadn't foolishly downplayed the severity of your injuries. Your arms came up defensively as he began moving towards you, eyes widening with surprise, “Wait-“

His arms slipped under and around and with barely a grunt of effort, he lifted you up. The sudden motion drew a muffled groan from you and he allowed you a brief moment to collect yourself before he began moving. From this position, he could acutely feel the heat radiating from your skin and the tremors that wracked your body.

Your confusion and trepidation were clear and it was with some hesitation before you decided to open your mouth-

“Save your breath.” He advised and you obediently swallowed your words.

He moved you into the storage shed behind the kitchen. Though dark, he navigated through the small space easily, setting you on the surface of several boxes, he stepped back to note that you’ve lost consciousness. The walk hadn’t been far but you must have exhausted your reserves traveling here.

From the darkness he brought out a small knife and paused, looking at your face, sweat slicked yet slack from tension, having found an escape from the worries troubling you - however temporary. He recognised that this moment might be a rare opportunity to unveil the secrets you hide, yet as quick as the notion flitted through his mind, it was dismissed just as quickly. With methodical precision, he cut open the side of your shirt where red had stained through.

The wound was as you’d described, if not a bit irritated and swollen. Basic first aid had been applied, though the messy stitch work left much to be desired, it did its job in holding your injury closed. A few stitches had come loose and will need to be reworked but nothing that he’s not capable of handling even with his limited medical knowledge.

As his gaze roamed to your face checking, yes, you were still unconscious, he left and returned moments later with a candle, clean water, cloth and a clean shirt.

A dusty shed and mere candlelight were far from an ideal setting to perform any kind of wound care, but he doubted you’d care at this point. Pristine, white gloves snapped on, he made short work of cleaning, restitching and bandaging your wound.

He was about to tilt a bottle of potion into your lips when you mumbled. He paused, waiting to see if you were regaining consciousness. You mumbled again and he frowned. It took him few moments before he realised two things: you weren’t waking up anytime soon and the words you’re mumbling, weren’t in a language from Roan or even any of the neighbouring kingdoms.

As a master assassin, he had learned many languages, so the fact that you spoke one that he couldn’t place piqued his interest. He watched your lips, intent on studying and memorising the unique intonations and pitch, however, it seems your instincts finally kicked in, and though still unconscious, you’d stopped mumbling.

Even out cold, you’d find a way to be bothersome. There was nothing more he could do, he left the folded, clean shirt he brought along by your side and with one final glance at your still form, he closed the doors behind him and locked it.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

He returned the next morning to a broken lock and an empty shed. In place of where you’re supposed to be was instead a piece of paper and a bag of coins.

“Thanks for last night. Sorry about your spuds, I’ve replaced them for you :)”

A glance to the side confirmed the presence of a fresh crate of potatoes and a slip of paper containing the description of a dish never heard of before in the kingdom.

And for the first time ever, a name to go alongside the unfamiliar dish.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

You never mentioned what happened that night and he didn’t pry. Still, something seemed to have shifted between the two of you.

He no longer chases you away the moment you appear, while you've learned to place yourself to avoiding getting in the way of his cooking. He pretends not to notice when you arrive with injuries and you feign surprise at finding mysterious salves appearing nearby.

“Aw, did you miss my company?” you teased when you caught his gaze assessing you after dropping by from one of your longer absences.

Beacrox made no attempt to conceal the dry scowl on his face. “Like one misses a rat infestation.”

“Charming~” you beamed.

Some things, still don’t change no matter what.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

In the end, it was the one question he couldn’t figure out.

“Why me?”

The dishes you've shared are simple, you could've hired any other chef, given the same descriptions and they would’ve achieved similar results. But you chose to badger him, an unknown chef working for a humble count's family instead.

You paused in your devouring of yet another strange dish, blinking as if surprised that he would be the first to initiate conversation.

“Why Bea! You should have more confidence in yourself, you’re one of the best chefs in Roan!”

It was as obvious a deflection as he ever saw. His fingers tightened around his arms and he took a slow breath. So you’re going to be stubborn. Well, two can play that game. He tried another angle.

The words tasted foreign on his tongue, but they were something that turned over and over in his mind since that night. He’d probably horribly butchered the pronunciation but it seemed the meaning was successfully relayed from the way your eyes widened and your pupils shook with recognition.

The utensil held in your hand clattered to the table and Beacrox kept his eyes trained on you, taking in your paling face. When it didn't seem like you would offer an explanation, he continued.

“It’s what you kept repeating that night.“

A myriad of emotions crossed your face: shock, confusion, fear, and finally, resignation.

In the silence, you slowly repeated those same words. Sharp, crisp and wholly foreign.

"“Home,” your voice was soft, but it was the loudest thing in the kitchen. “‘I want to go home.’” you swallowed thickly, a wavering smile on your face. “that’s probably what I said.”

There was a lot to unpack from that revelation.

He was suddenly reminded of how you’d react to the dishes each time, savouring each one, scouring the plates clean despite the differences in tastes. You ate not to fulfil the hunger of the body but to satisfy a craving of the mind. After receiving the recipe with a foreign name, it had confirmed one suspicion of his, that wherever these dishes came from, whether it was a place or a person that you're reminiscing about, they're likely no longer accessible.

You're reliving memories through dishes you barely remember. Chasing ghosts in your memories in search of some semblance of normalcy.

Trust was a limited and rare currency in the underworld, hoarded jealously and coveted by many. You’d handed him the leash he’d sought since he agreed to your little game yet he felt gutted by the weight of the revelation, his shoulders burdened.

“Why me?” He repeated softly.

You watched him. “I don’t know.” Your voice sounded small and so tired. “I thought maybe, if it’s anyone, you’d probably understand.”

What does the concept of home and person mean when they no longer exist? Who are they but displaced people playing roles too big or small to hold their histories? Bearing memories of a place and person, but unable to find an equivalent?

It was a mistake. He shouldn’t have asked.

“But I wasn’t lying you know?” you added suddenly and he looked up in confusion, the smile you wore was weaker than usual but it was genuine.

“You are one of the best chefs in all of Roan.” You declared in that same, familiar confidence which you use to share all those impossible, far-fetched sounding intel that always, turns out to be fact.

For some inexplicable reason, it was that simple statement that dispersed the tempest building within.

Beacrox sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and exhaled through his nose.

And perhaps, there was a small, exasperated chuckle.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Bea please marry me.”

It wasn't often, but on rare occasions, he would nail the taste of a dish right.

He didn’t bother with a response but moved to refill your plate nonetheless.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Thank you.”

He paused while wiping the dishes. “For what?”

“Just,” Your gaze dropped to the plate before you as your fork tapped lightly against the edge. “Thank you for the food.”

Beacrox watched as you returned to eating, mind filled with memories of all the dishes he's made, of greatswords and bladed edges, and thought of what home and belonging is.

We’re not so different. The idea of it wasn't as horrifying as he had thought. Once, perhaps he would’ve been unnerved by the sentimentality. There are still so many things that remain a secret when it comes to you, and yet, as you close your eyes to savor each bite, he feels as if he knows you better than most.

You ate in comfortable silence. He rolled his shoulders and allowed the tension in them to drop off.

This might not be ‘home’ but for now, this moment was as good a resting place as any for people like them.

“You’re welcome.” he said softly.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

BONUS:

Once again, it begins with a ridiculous request from you.

“Bea please, you have to prepare this for Choi Han. I’ll even sell you my kidneys, I really need to know his reaction.”

What value would owning your kidneys have? That you’d blatantly suggest such things to an assassin like himself was laughable, stranger still was his playing the fool and following along anyways.

He didn't question how you knew about their mansion's new guest, though your sudden interest in the visitor when you’ve shown no such interest in past guests was worthy of note. Even he had unconsciously tensed when the young master had introduced him. Something about the newcomer didn’t seem right. They were strong, but their potential was untapped and raw, like an uncontrollable beast on the verge of lashing out at any moment.

The glimmer of something in your eyes further confirmed his suspicions. You knew something about this stranger though you refused to reveal more, only promising that he’s not a threat to him or Ron.

He frowned at the pot of red he’s stirring, the pungent smell wafting through the room. Footsteps from the doorway had him looking up, but the person that crossed the threshold was not the person he’d expected.

The young master stepped in with a cautious look in his eyes.

“I thought I smelled..” brown eyes narrowed at the pot he held. “What’s that?”

Beacrox glanced down at the strange dish he was asked to prepare, wondering why of all people that could’ve come, it would be Cale Henituse.

“A dish a friend taught me to make.” Then for some reason unbeknownst to him, he offered. “Would the young master like to try?”

Cale hesitated, but eventually slid himself onto a seat, choosing the one farthest away from him. At least the young master seemed sober. Beacrox felt no fondness for the young master he served, even if it was true that he had begun to change recently, raising even the interest of Ron.

Spooning a small portion, he set the dish and utensils down before Cale, ignoring the young man’s flinch as he gauged Cale’s strange expressions.

The young master stared at the dish as if it would leap up and attack him, his strange wariness reminded Beacrox of your reaction when he first presented that first unfamiliar dish to you.

“.. there’s no way..” Cale muttered to himself as he poked and prodded until finally, he tried a bite.

“What.. the hell?”

Beacrox had never seen the young master's eyes bug out like that, and he decided it was quite an entertaining sight, even if the dish’s original target wasn’t meant for the redhead. Still he stifled an irritated sigh as a thought crossed his mind when the young master exclaimed.

“How the hell did you learn to make kimchi?!”

“What the hell did you make me do this time _______?”

Notes: I've had lots of thoughts while writing this imagine turned fic. Nin-deer gave me a simple prompt of "cooking" and I went and turned it into lore- OTL even I don't understand the intricate workings of my brain. I've had to cut out some chapters details as it was growing out of hand so I hope everything's links together properly. I've reached that stage where I've reread a piece of writing so many times, nothing makes sense anymore. I've deliberately left the dishes 'cooked' vague so you're free to imagine whatever cuisine you'd like that Beacrox helped butcher 👍🏼

#TCF #TRASH OF THE COUNT'S FAMILY #IMAGINES #TCF X READER #Beacrox Molan #platonic #pre relationship #multiple identities #after a long hiatus #smacksdown with 4000 worded thesis #believe me when I said this monster got out of control #it was actually longer #i had to cut many parts out to prevent it from turning into a multichaptered fic #this au got out of hand #the lore I had planned...#i would love to see if I'll return to this AU #perhaps post the rest of the 'deleted' moments #would love to hear about everyone's theories on this ficlet

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kiiyunz · 2 days

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질문⠀and finally.. is kihyun close with wayv at all?

정답⠀while it’s still not exactly a home away from home, when KIHYUN’s with WAYV he feels just as able to let loose and let himself have the fun he wants as when he's with 127. they might not the very first place he’d turn if he was in trouble, or needed help (although he has gone to them for it a few times in the past), but they are one of the first people on his mind for when he feels like going for a night out to let loose, or to mess around in the studio for a few hours and see what beats they can pull out of thin air, sampling any and everything they can find. if DREAM are KIHYUN’s unbreakable bonds, and 127 are the pillars of support he never knew he needed, then WAYV are sort of a mix of both, as well as KIHYUN’s.. well, enablers, in a way.

錕 & 기현⠀───⠀KIKUN

kihyun attached himself to kun the second they met and refused to let go—figuratively, of course (although he has done it literally a few times in the past, and will likely do it again). he felt a similar sort of instant connection as he had with johnny, or niko, or mark. he admired and looked up to his vocal ability as much as he did taeil’s, but for some reason felt a little more comfortable to let loose around him, to mess around and make jokes and be as clingy as he liked without worrying if he was being annoying. kun was just someone who made him feel comfortable instantly, an easy air around him that then-trainee kihyun needed every once in a while to let all his worries about debuting or not debuting and all his shortcomings during the various lessons they were put through get to him too much. when he was with kun they could just talk music, or play card games, or on occasion the older vocalist would give him a mini magic show and then attempt to teach him some tricks afterwards. there was a little bit of a struggle with the language barrier, as there was with most of the WAYV members, but they made do most of the time, finding they enjoyed spending time with another even if they didn’t full understand everything the other was saying all of the time.

the younger vocalist considers himself one of kun’s biggest fans, point blank. everything he does (and did, back in the day and over the years) is met with the upmost support from him, both the things he’s allowed to share with the public & the projects he keeps to himself. if there was one member to rival the amount of personal merch and photocards he owns of the DREAM members, it would undoubtedly be kun. he just thinks he’s so.. cool. talented in everything he does, and making it look easy in the process. there isn’t a singular thing he’s been featured in that kihyun hasn't reposted or talked about on social media in one form or another, not one piece of group content where he hasn’t done a running jump at the WAYV leader and clung to his arm for the next five minutes at the very least. kun shares the same sentiment with kihyun, even if it’s not to the same physical extent. he’s supportive in everything the younger does, and is always ready to help with anything he may need if he asks.

their friendship is one that’s mostly stayed the same over the years-growing stronger, if anything. kun is one of the top people on his list he’ll call if he needs a second opinion, if he wants a little help, or if he just wants someone to get a meal with. it’s always easy when they’re with one another, never having an uncomfortable or awkward moment between them even if they’re just sharing silence. they’re a relatively rare duo to see on camera during official content, and are usually more brought up or seen (and occasionally featured, on live) on their own personal feeds. they’re another pair that have expressed wanting to work with one another officially in the future—and have already played around with some unofficial things together in their free time too.

เตนล์ & 기현⠀───⠀TENKI

ten was interested kihyun from their very first meeting, both in wanting to get to know him and also in seeing if there was any way he could be of help with his dancing. and while he wasn’t a mentor as such, kihyun thinks he owes a lot to ten for helping him in their trainee days—both by correcting him on the smaller errors that their teachers didn’t pick up on, and also for never making him feel bad about his mistakes, always reassuring him that he himself sometimes slipped up too. dance was the main thing they bonded over, slowly growing closer as ten did his best to support kihyun wherever he could & kihyun attempting to return the favour by sneaking the older dancer a few extra snacks from when he snuck out, or reciprocating every bit of affection he received tenfold. while they slowly began to not see each other as much as it grew closer and closer to the first official NCT debut, they still tried to keep in touch & contact each other whenever they could, and kihyun made sure to cheer him (and the other four, of course) on the hardest he could.

even after it had all calmed down after the release of THE 7TH SENSE, they didn’t get too much time to go back to hanging out, as not long afterwards kihyun was preparing for his own debut in DREAM. he was caught up completely in focusing on being the best he could be, and again their contact was scarce—save for the few phone calls they shared, and the sparing evenings where ten would catch him staying in the practice room long after all the others had left, and run through the CHEWING GUM choreography with him a few times before making him go get some rest. it took a while, but when everything had really slowed down a little, they made sure to go out for a long meal and catch-up all in one, taking a detour to a noraebang on the way back to sing their lungs out and collapse into helpless laughter over things that weren’t really all that funny together like they’d been wanting to for a while.

as much as he looks up to him, kihyun doesn’t really feel the age gap between him and ten. the older dancer treats him exactly like he treats kun, or johnny, or taeyong, and kihyun reciprocates in kind. banter and conversation and jokes come as easy as breathing between them, but also whenever one of them needs help the carefree mood between them can just as easily be dropped in place of a more serious one, where they try their best to offer help or support in any way they can. whenever they’re see each other for group content they’re sure to be seen stuck to each other’s sides at least once, deep in conversation about a new routine, or when they should next get dinner together, or whatever other odd topics come to mind that they can spin a conversation out of. they’ve always been close, and will continue to be far into the future.

昀昀 & 기현⠀───⠀WINKI

kihyun is jokingly referred to by many as one of the only members winwin can stand. while he does still treat the older dancer with as much affection as he does his other hyungs, he’s a little more toned-down about it—not as over-the-top as some of the other members, but at the same time no less genuine. they share a bond much like kihyun & yuta: quiet and not always noticed, but still very much there. they got close around the same time as him and yuta as well—it was nearing the end of the EMPATHY era, and kihyun walked into a practice room winwin was occupying, witnessed him dancing, and almost immediately afterward (despite the fact he’d barely held a full conversation with him prior to that evening, just sticking to polite greetings when they saw each other) fell all over him asking to be taught how to do what he did. winwin, a little overwhelmed, finally managed to ask for kihyun to stop trying to jump on his shoulders for just a minute, and then maybe they’d talk.

winwin didn’t feel like he was much of a help to kihyun, but the younger thought the complete opposite. even if all he did was correct him on a small footwork error, kihyun practically fell over himself in thanks every time. he said on more than one occasion that he considered winwin as much as a help as he did ten, or taeil vocals-wise. whenever the two were in the same room it was guaranteed kihyun was going to ambush him at one point and ask for a whole load of new tips and tricks to implement into his own technique and help him grow. other members joked a few times that the younger DREAM member held ten & winwin to a higher regard than he did any of their actual dance teachers, to which kihyun just shrugged (and never necessarily denied any of their claims). while they didn’t hang out all that much in settings where it was just the two of them, kihyun felt like he didn’t really need to sit down and have a one-on-one meal with winwin in order to truly get to know him. he felt like he was sort of learning more and more about through dance (even if chenle said that made no sense).

as of the most recent years, their bond has generally remained the same (although they have shared a few meals together since that time). on the off chance he’s feeling a little more lively when they see each other then kihyun will be all over the older dancer like he was the first time they met, calling him ‘boss’ and ‘teacher’ and firing things off a mile a minute about new routines and tips and covers and anything else he could think of, all while winwin stands there and just tries not to let it knock him off of his feet. most of the time he’s tempered down, though, simply greeting winwin with a hug and quietly catching up instead of going full-out. he’s always in the older dancer’s comments, always supporting him in any of his solo endeavours, and altogether the friendship they share is a sweet one.

肖俊 & 기현⠀───⠀XIAOHYUN

the pair of them met at slightly an awkward time. dejun was new to the company as a whole, a complete stranger to most and feeling a little like an outsider thrown in the middle of a tangled web full of people who’d already known each other for years, already developed connections & relationships and were completely comfortable with one another, and kihyun was seventeen and just starting to feel restless in himself, his usually ever-cheerful mood just beginning to fray around the edges. needless to say, their first introduction consisted of a stilted ‘hello’ and an exchange of their names between them, and then kihyun was turning around and leaving and dejun was left to feel all the more awkward. they barely talked after that, swapping little more than quick nods or looks of acknowledgement if they passed each other in corridors or ended up sharing the same practice rooms, and it went on to stay that way for a good year as kihyun fell all the lower down into the hole he was digging for himself, and dejun got caught up in everything he needed to do for WAYV’s official debut.

the way they only really got to know each other properly wasn’t exactly in the best of situations, either. it was early 2020, a month or so after the release of RELOAD, and after a night out kihyun didn’t exactly feel like he could face his fellow DREAM members, and so asked if he could crash at the WAYV dorm instead. and dejun really didn’t mean to run into his sort-of dongsaeng in their kitchen at an unearthly hour in the morning while the younger was half-asleep and half-hysterical, smelling slightly of cigarettes and soju, but that was just how things turned out to be. dejun kept him company until kun got back from whatever convenience store he’d booked it to, and in the meantime kihyun just sort of.. let everything spill, a little too drunk to realise fully what he was doing. by the time the leader had made it back he walked into the dorm kitchen and found a now fully-asleep kihyun hunched over the countertop while dejun walked paces up and down the tile ranting and raving about how the people the younger dancer was hanging around with were really no good, none the wiser as to how his only listener was stifling his snores in the fabric of his hoodie.

kihyun was a little mortified the next morning, when he woke up and it all (mostly) came back to him, but decided to take it on the chin and use it as a chance to try and actually make friends with the older vocalist. they had another long talk that day, got to know each other a little better, and even if the younger made no promises as to breaking things off with the crowd he’d found himself in amongst, he did promise that he’d try and look after himself a little better. from that day onward they were far closer, kihyun always making sure to give dejun a visit whenever he was over at the WAYV dorms and making sure to keep in contact over the phone as well. they might not seem it on-camera, seeing as the more heartfelt conversations they share they usually prefer to have when they’re not being watched, but they really are a strong pair of friends.

亨德里 & 기현⠀───⠀HYUNDERY

debut was coming closer and closer by the time hendery first joined SM, so they didn’t have all that much time for conversation past introductions and civil greetings when they passed each other in the hallway, but kihyun definitely wanted to get know hendery better, and a couple months after everything had calmed down he made sure to approach him and ask him if he wanted to go out for a meal sometime. hendery agreed, they skipped practice one night so kihyun could show him one of his recently-discovered (and quickly rising in the ranks of his favourites) barbecue joints, and they sat down and talked about everything they could think of until the owner was shoving them out of the door so he could shut up shop, and it was so dark they could barely find their way back to the company building even with the help of the streetlights to guide the way.

their bond was something of an easy one to simply fall into after that—they’d hang out in person whenever they could and talk over the phone when they couldn’t, making hours-long conversations over the most mundane of things and never getting bored of each other. they shared inside jokes that would leave whoever else was with them more than a little bewildered when they brought them up and proceeded to burst into laughter, and easy affection that could go from quiet and comforting to intentionally irritating over-the-top hugs and aegyo-filled voices as they squished cheeks and danced around with one another. whenever kihyun’s at the wayv dorm, it’s guaranteed that he’s in hendery’s room—and vice versa, on the odd occasion the older rapper makes a visit to the dream dorms. if one of them are out and about, the other is most likely with them, if one of them posts, the other is most likely in the comments spamming compliments and teasing remarks and the like—and the list goes on, really. if one half of the pair is doing anything, then the other is sure to be around somehow.

over time their bond has only gotten stronger, brought them closer together. they’re simply.. kihyun and hendery. a package deal, even if they’re in different units. a duo much like chenle and jisung, or jeno and jaemin. it’s not a proper kihyun vlog if hendery hasn’t suddenly appeared (even if it was for as little as a couple shots, or simply kihyun thrusting his phone before the camera to show messages from the older rapper), and it definitely isn’t a piece of whole-group content if the two of them aren’t messing around together—by putting on shows of over-the-top recreations of the latest drama they’re watching, or treating all the other members present to live performances of songs either from whatever album they’re promoting or just shared favourite songs in general, or even play-flirting up a storm. their one joint goal is to try and get some sort of official duo content up and running, but for now it’s still a work-in-progress.

扬扬 & 기현⠀───⠀KIYANG

much like with hendery, yangyang became a trainee too close to DREAM’s debut for him & kihyun to get properly introduced, and so it just.. never happened. but unlike with hendery, kihyun also never got around to trying to properly get to know him, and so they just sort of stayed at the half-awkward and half-acquaintances stage for the following years. it was somewhat frustrating for the younger vocalist, because he definitely did want to get to know yangyang better, it was just that he felt that he’d left it too long to start a conversation that lasted longer than passing greetings or brief small talk, or invite him out for a meal without it sounding awkward, and so he just carried on leaving it for a later date, for when he could muster up some more courage to actually talk.

it took renjun practically dragging him by the arm in the break between filming on the RESONANCE set for them to finally strike up a proper conversation, and even then kihyun left it feeling like he’d been stilted and awkward the whole time. they were closer after that, but still not a whole lot. he wasn’t so sure if he was intimidated of yangyang, or just thought he was cool (much like his feelings towards renjun in their trainee days before he got over himself and struck up that first conversation)—or maybe just a mix of both—but what kihyun did know was that he was determined to actually strike up a proper friendship with yangyang. soon. how soon, he didn’t exactly know, and he gave jeno a harsh punch on the arm when he relayed his dilemma and the older told him he was just putting it off again because he was scared.

skip forward a few years, and kihyun is glad to say there has been some progress. they’ve talked more, and bonded over music, mostly, but also video games as well (which, admittedly, kihyun got most of his knowledge of from jeno and then pretended he’d been a gamer for years when speaking to yangyang. to this day he’s terrified of gaming alone with him, though). a meal shared between just the two of them has yet to happen, but kihyun is again determined—and it’s something of a well-known fact that when he has his mind set on something he’s unlikely to let off until he gets it done. he’s still a little miffed yangyang is something of the only member he doesn’t really feel like he knows, but that only makes him all the more fired up to make sure they get closer than close in the coming years. the unreasonable amount of joy he gets when the older replies to his messages (or sends them to him first), or likes his posts, or mentions him in a conversation where he isn’t present, is immeasurable, and the DREAM members (jeno and chenle, mostly) have fun by comparing it to a child with a crush—to which kihyun firmly denies with red ears every time.

#⠀견니 ₊˚⠀⠀THINKING TOO MUCH⠀⠀——⠀⠀relationships.#nct dream added member #nct oc addition #nct dream 8th member #nct addition #nct oc #kpop idol oc #kpop addition #kpop male oc #fictional idol community #hyundery.. clutches chest

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bohemiandeer · 2 months

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You know what hits me hard? When 5 to 6 year old children, all the way in Southeast Asia, knows about what's happening in Palestine right now. That children their age is getting bombed, that they're starving to death, that they're getting shot at, and sniped in the head. Because, just this past 2 or so months, I heard some of the little ones in the Kindergarten classes I'm TAing in as an Intern talk about it. Hell, one of the little boys downright said he didn't like Israel, because Israel is bad, because they do scary things. Another was questioning whether Palestine was bad too, because, "why else would they shooting at them?". A little girl in one of my classes doesn't want to finish her food at all, because she wants to save at least half her meat and rice for kids in Palestine, because she heard that, they don't have food. And that's just the ones I remember. Namely the inciting cases before their classmates slowly follow suit. The littles are fricking SCARED. We had to sit these kids down, and tell them that the topic is too mature for them at the moment, that they shouldn't even be concerned because they're KINDERGARTNERS, they're not even old enough to properly understand. The one teacher I was TAing for had to make a class announcement saying that. What gets me is, these are 5 to 6 year olds, the youngest I've worked with in this specific age group is 4. 5 years old on average, and they've already been exposed to the worst horrors genocide has to offer through the news and snippets of conversation among adults and hell, considering how many of them say they like to play games on Mama's phone, or their IPad, even from fricking social media. And the fact that, these literal babies, from all the way in Cambodia, has more empathy in their entire body and soul, than full grown fricking adults have in the nail of their pinky finger, gets me. FFS we as adults could LEARN from them I feel sometimes. I honestly don't know what to feel about it anymore. On the one hand, this is the next generation I'm working with. And if the next generation's default response to a tragedy such as Palestine, is what I've seen come up on occasion so far? Perhaps there's some bloody hope for this world after all. At least in this country. Especially since a majority of them already come from families who survived a genocide. These are the 3rd - 4th generation descendants of those who survived the Khmer Rouge. They've got grandparents at home, who no doubt are more than intimately familiar with what Palestine is going through right now. And it shows.

But on the other, it makes my heart sink because these are CHILDREN, these are LITTLE KIDS, they should be playing with their toys and watching cartoons and talking to their friends about everything from Spiderman to Speakerman to Kuromi and her friends, and be worried about whether or not they can go to playground that day, guranteed they're well behaved, or if Mama remembered to pack in their costume for swimming lessons that week. NOT JUST MY KIDS. But the little ones in Palestine too. They deserve better. They all deserve, so much better. Hell, it's come to the point that whenever I look at my kiddos right now, whether they'd be working in class, playing, doing something as mundane as eating lunch or getting ready for their nap. I think of the children their age in Palestine that didn't even get the chance to survive. I think of the ones whose memories from this age, is nothing but absolute horror and pain, rather than what has slowly become my normal, who never got to experience what my littles do on a daily basis right now.

Children shouldn't even be concerned about "War", about a Genocide. The last thing that should be on a 5 year old's mind, is pain, and suffering, and the worst horrors imaginable ever to be inflicted on a human being. ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S INFLICTED, ON OTHER CHILDREN THEIR AGE. And for that alone, the world has failed them. Especially the kids in Palestine who didn't ask for any of this. They just wanted to carry on with life as kids do, the same way as my littles do on a daily basis no doubt, learning, playing, chatting with friends over their favourite cartoons and characters, worrying about whether they'd get to go to the playground or not that day.

I apologize for talking about this on this blog. I know my blog tends to be lighter in feel, a lot more unhinged and light hearted typically. I mean, I'm just a fricking nerd who likes to draw and write, and lurk about her favourite fandoms to consume and support what is shared among other nerds who also like to draw and write. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. About contemplating it, especially since I'll be back on a roll tomorrow, working with my kiddos again after not seeing them for 5 days straight because of Holidays. And, I just had to talk about it. This is something I felt I couldn't keep to myself this time, I don't think my soul'd be able to carry it. I had to talk about it.

FREE PALESTINE. Our children deserve better.

#free palestine #gaza #palestine #rafah #israel #current events #gaza strip #human rights #childrens rights #save the children #cease fire in gaza #cease fire now #cease fire permanently #palestinian genocide #support gaza #pray for palestine #ceasfire now

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jazjelspen · 3 months

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my angel baby

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution!!: EPISODE 8 & 6 SPOILERS. NOT PROOFREAD]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

(right now this is considered a oneshot, unless there is a very high demand for a part 2 I'll happily make another one for funzies!)

(PART 2 IS OUT!!!)

(also apologies if alastor's last name isnt actually altruist LMAo I kinda just wrote it assuming so 😭 )

You made it to heaven, lucky you.

Heaven was surely a treat, you lived your days with the upmost happiness, the light of heaven shining on your skin with kisses as if praising you for your goodness and your sacrifices,

all your sacrifices.

You were currently taking the job over for St. Peter at the gates of heaven for just a few minutes to await for any wondering souls to appear, to help guide them while he came back from a lunch break. Normally they wouldn't allow a human soul like yourself with little experience in this kind of task to take charge of such an important job, but you were close to many of the high ranking angels and you have proved your proficiency in tasks that you set your mind to, so you were glad to help those in need.

You stood there reading through the millions of pages looking over all kinds of names, all seemed like names that you wouldn't normally hear back in your time when you died. Some you liked, others didn't exactly pique your interest much, but the advancement of names since the 1930s surely proved how much times have changed and how quickly time seems to pass in heaven.

You wonder if it is in hell too.

'Hell?..' you wondered as you shook your head and sighed, your mind has been on that place lately and you wondered if it was even worth the rent free space in your mind.

You were currently slouched over the book and decided to close it with a glum look on your face, your elbows now resting on the golden podium and your hands cupping your face.

Geez, and you've been thinking a lot about your old man.

What-- no wait-

You shouldn't call him your old man, let alone your dad, not even father, pops-- not even by his damn name.

Even so, as much as you hated it.. you couldn't help but still use his last name sometimes since it's what you were given when you were first taken in.

Your last name?.. why, you're forgetting already?

_____ Altruist is who you a---

"HELLO??"

You snapped out of your thoughts as your head slipped from under your palms, face planting onto the cover of the enormous book. In embarrassment you snapped your head back up and your wings followed suit, spreading open behind you in shock as your eyes searched for the voice that called out to you from below.

You finally darted down to see three oddly shaped figures, your panicked vision soon relaxing to see two girls and a man dressed in red from tip to toe.

How peculiar.

Your eyes only set on the girl at the moment since she was the one waving at you and basically begging for your attention.

"Hello hello! uh.. Down here!" The girl with long locks of pale yellow hair waved, her smile widening when seeing she's caught your attention.

"Ah- yes yes! Hello hello! Welcome to Heaven! May I.. uh-" you scrambled nervously to open the book in the middle of it, "May I have your name please?"

She nodded, also returning a bit of a shy attitude back "Yes of course! My names Charlie Morningstar!"

Just like that you flicked the pages to go to the names that sounded similar to the girl's, mumbling her name under your breath as your finger traced down each name on the list.. to your dismay you couldn't find it.

"You don't seem to be on the list ma'am.. how weird.. does this usually happen with St. Peter?.." you spoke in concern, mumbling the last part to yourself.

The girl then started to explain something about her dad getting her a meeting, your mind a little clouded still trying to find her name until you heard the forbidden name that no one inside the pearly gates ever attempted to say out loud.

"-- maybe try, Lucifer.. Morning...star-"

And just like that you slammed the book closed, no words coming out of your mouth but an exasperated look of shock freezing your face.

"Oh-hoho... that explains so much--" you gave her a small sheepish smile, awkwardly looking off to the side where your eyes couldn't help but drag themselves to the man dressed in red.

"Miss you don't think.. you could've..." your eyes at first looked at the man's waist, his coat lightly shredded at the ends and the stripes of the long suit guided your eyes upwards "-gotten..." up and up and your eyes met his. The red eyes, the ears, the small horns, the horrific aura, and..

Oh dear, you'd recognize that damned smile anywhere.

"--lost..?" the end of your sentence dragged on, taking a long while to finish since all you could think about is how this man is at the front door step of the place he shouldn't even be considered in being let to enter.

Alastor, your father from the living realm. Not connected by blood but by life and connection.

The man where you got your last name from by being taken in and called his daughter.

The red deer demon seemed to recognize you as well, a spark in his devilish eyes proved it so, but it was very brief since he more or less also seemed to relish the look on your face with his smile stretched further up.. however further up it could get.

Charlie seemed concerned at your reaction, waving her hand in front of your face gently as if to get you out of this trance. "Heyyy... are you okay?.." she asked with genuine worry until all of you were focused away from this bizarre moment when a set of three angels befell before you all. The two seraphims and finally-- St. Peter off from his break.

"_____. We can take it from here, we appreciate the help." The highest and oldest seraphim announced your name and her appreciation while gliding down a bit more earlier than the blonde angel you covered for, she and the younger seraphim's forms going from their true to more human-like appearances.

"_____! My dear friend thank you so much for covering for me, always a real helper you!" St. Peter popped beside you as he praised you while gently flying beside you, you looked up at him with a small nervous smile before opening your own wings to flap down from his podium and let him get back on the job.

"It's no problem at all, you know me! Always.. happy to help.." you spoke your last words to him before your wings gently took you down to set yourself beside another one of your friends, Emily! You never talked much to Sera that wasn't in a formal setting but Emily seemed so easy to get along with. She gave you a tight squeeze of a hug while saying hello which eased your nerves a bit more, of course they never fully disappeared with the man who ruined everything before you let out your last breath.. standing right in front of you.

The man that brought you up here in the first place.

The seraphims introduced themselves to the three residents of hell, the deer demon more quiet until finally finding a spot of silence to jump in and introduce himself as well.

"Why hello, a real pleasure meeting you two quite the pleasure! Never thought I'd ever get to see an angel up this close in my life HAHA! The names Alastor!"

The voice, the radio static over it, his name.

It was him, you recognized it as if you listened to him on the radio just yesterday, your own personal hell.

Whatever reaction or words the higher ranked angels said seemed to fizzle out of your brain as they were replaced with the memories of your last moments on earth.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Father!" you screamed as you ran up to your childhood home, the home to which you were raised and kept in, your home in which you lived in with your father, Alastor Altruist.

For sometime you had suspected foul play when it came to your father's weird actions when the night came, the tone he spoke through his radio show when announcing several murders happening across and haunting New Orleans. You just didn't want to truly believe that the man that found you, a poor little orphaned baby, and raised you would do such disgusting and diabolical crimes.

You couldn't believe it.. until you finally saw it.

Your legs scrambled and fought each step to become faster, finally reaching the door of your home you slammed it open with a strong kick after jiggling the doorknob didn't work.

You knew the next murder he would commit would happen in your home.. you thanked whatever force that made you disobey him and look through his study since if you didn't you wouldn't know that right now there was blood to be shed.

The door opening and with your kick full of adrenaline and panic it made the door barley cling onto it's hinges. There your father was, on top of a wounded man that seemed to be gurgling and gasping to breathe as the victim attempted to claw at Alastor's grasp. Pieces of glass and wood broken across the entire floor, walls bloodied and worn out, pictures that hung neatly now cracked and lopsided or shattered on the floor.

Whatever happened in here, the victim was sure a fighter in the beginning.

You immediately without hesitation with full force pushed Alastor off the man, pulling the bloodied stranger by his wrist. The victim and you stared for a moment, him mostly realizing that he's being saved by a young girl like you. His lips parted to thank you but you could see Alastor raise his kitchen knife in the air and sprinted toward him to stab him on the back.

With no words left to share or spill you grabbed the stranger by the shoulders and with all your might pushed him and yourself away so that in the end Alastor ended up stabbing nothing but air.

Alastor grunted in frustration, his bloodied smile yet never faltering despite the challenge you now gave him.

The man snapped his head at you, eyes fixated at you before snapping back to his victim and raising his knife up once more, in a haunting motion his steps creeped and creaked towards the injured New Orleans citizen stricken with fear and terror.

Just like that, Alastor slams his knife down with no hesitation. The knife fully in his prey with no inch of the blade uncovered.

Oh-- wait.

That shriek, the sobs, the shaky breathing and the coughs of blood.. that wasn't his victim.

It was you.

His daughter, he stabbed his daughter.

For a moment you could see his crazed smile falter, the humane part of him uncovering itself for a moment, for you.

His little girl was covered in her blood because of him, the little baby he found on that cold rainy day is dying because of him, his bundle of joy that he took years to take care of is leaving him.. and it's all his fault.

He didn't know it was you-- he didn't know you'd be that stupid to sacrifice yourself for some random prick.

He didn't know that in the end, someone as evil as him could have raised someone as selfless as you.

"p..papa..?" you whimpered, your painful coughs of blood spilling out and going down your chin and your neck. "It hurts-- g.. it hurts so much papa.." you cried as the knife in your chest seemed to feel as if it was melting into your skin, becoming one with you. It obviously wasn't but the pain was just that painful.

Alastor's smile faltered and kept trying to stay up, his own set of tears falling down his face and onto your cheeks that were slowly losing life. Regret stabbing his own heart the way he did to yours. He let go of the knife and instead cradled you in his arms, just like how he used to when you would have nightmares as a little girl.

"Shh.. Shh.." he shush you softly as he gently patted your head, moving away any uneven strands of hair he could spot with his hands trembling in regret. "Little one.. don't worry about a thing, papa's here.. " he mumbled, the gentleness replacing what once was pure aggressiveness.

Your eyes slowly started to flutter closed, your pulse slowing down, breathing less profound, your limbs going limp, and your face.. contorting into a peaceful state of slumber.

Alastor watched as you passed in his arms, his faltering smile picking itself up once more to stretch itself across his face with tears pouring out his eyes. This wasn't a smile of joy, it was a smile to hide what he truly felt.. to lie to himself. "My little angel, forgive me please."

Those were his last words to you, words that in the end you couldn't hear.

And that man he tried to kill earlier? He escaped when he was given the chance, Alastor was sure the cops were to invade his home soon.. now there was just one thing left to do before he'd be found once again to pay the consequences.

He took your body to a beautiful forest filled with flower meadows. Alastor knew this was one of your favorite spots as a young girl, why not let you rest here.

Ah but as he was preparing to bury you in your final resting place... that darn deer hunter.

Well, you know the story. Mistaken for a deer, shot, that's the end of Alastor Altruist and his darling daughter, ______ Altruist.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you stood there you were awoken from your thoughts with the high angels escorting the princess and her other female companion into the gates of heaven, St. Peter welcoming them humbly with one of heaven's popular songs.

You were frozen, in shock. A chill went down your spine as you felt a foreign energy come closer.

You felt long fingers grapple themselves onto your shoulder which made you dramatically turn towards the hand and away from it.

Your father wanted to talk to you.

Your contrasting colors and appearances made this reunitement even more uncomfortable for you, his demon form seeming to match his disgusting self that he hid from the human world before.

His face was hard to read, especially with that signature smile of his that even in death he would never get rid of.

"Little one, my darling daughter.." he spoke, his voice seemingly trying to seem genuine but the radio filter over it made it feel condescending to you.. as if mocking you.

The look on your face was evident, you missed him so much but hated him with your entire being because of that hidden side he kept for years.

He continued "My little ____... out of all places I never thought I'd see you here. Oh but it's definitely much better than down under my little dove.."

Geez what was he even saying?? What were his intentions..?? You couldn't tell.. after all this time, you couldn't forgive this man, this serial killer, this demon, this.. monster. You couldn't.. not this soon anyways.

You took a deep inhale and exhale before fixing your posture and stance, trying to seem more professional and confident. "Sir, your hosts and companions are ahead of you. You wouldn't want to miss your introduction to a place you'll never see again after this day." Your voice stern and professional, trying your best to be void of emotion.

"Darling.. is that truly a way to greet your dear ol' father?" He spoke, hand stretched out while the other held onto his staff.

"Your friends are waiting on you, don't be late Alastor."

Just like that you turned your heel and gave him the cold shoulder, your wings spread and started flapping. Taking you up and away further into your home.. Alastor watched you as you left him once again, this time by choice.

Ah but he knew, he'd have his darling daughter back soon. His little angel that he cared for will forgive him.. he knew you had to.

With his grin widening even further he walked to catch up to the Princess of hell and her partner into the pearly gates, to see what other thing could entertain him while his daughter snapped back to her senses.

(hello!! thank you so much for reading I had a blast with this. as you can tell. once again thank you so much for reading! hope to see you soon! mwa mwa!)

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soaps-mohawk · 3 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Summary: Captain Price has been fighting the requests to add an omega to his team until those requests become commands. You find yourself traveling half a world away to join a pack of highly trained soldiers to balance out their dynamic. Not all of them are quite so happy about your arrival, but you're a good omega who does as you're told.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, brief moments of panic on the reader's side, scenting, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I couldn't help it and I've found myself falling into the Call of Duty brainrot once again so here I am to bless you with some poly 141 a/b/o goodness. It's just part 1, I promise things will get better as the story goes along.

MASTERLIST | Next ->

“I don’t like this.”

“Believe me, John, I know. But the higher ups are putting a lot of pressure on us with this initiative and I’ve pushed back as much as I can. They’re convinced it will be good for morale and team dynamics.”

He wants to protest, but he’s been protesting this idea for three months. “What more can you tell me about her?”

“Not much that isn’t already in her file.” Her tone is not lost on him. She can, but that’s not a conversation to be held over the phone. “She’s quiet and polite, a bit jumpy but she relaxes once she gets to know you. Remember, I picked her out myself.”

That doesn’t make him feel any better.

He flips through the file again after he hangs up with Laswell. He almost has it memorized by now, having looked through time and time again since the letter was dropped on his desk three months ago.

He stares at the photo, the headshot taken by the institute in her file. She’s cute, as most omegas are. American, but she had grown up on military bases. At least this world wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. He grimaces as he looks over her DOB below the photo. She’s young, younger than he would have liked, but at least she was old enough to drink.

He sighs through his nose as he flips through her records. She’s been in the institute for nearly ten years, likely sent as soon as she presented. He flips through page after page of test results, notes from her instructors, personality and temperament analysis, essays and essays worth of information written on her and also by her. He didn’t care so much about what her instructors thought, he was more interested in her.

“Christ.” He breathes as he pauses on the page with her statistics, rubbing his eyes. The file has everything in it, down to heat tracking and her early signs it was starting.

As if he doesn’t have enough to worry about, now he’s going to have an omega under his care.

He hasn’t considered taking an omega in well over a decade. Back when he had been young and reckless, he had once considered starting his own pack, but then his career in the military began to take off and he let that dream go. It became too dangerous, and he had seen many times what happened to omegas who were left behind during deployments for too long.

His team didn’t need an omega. He had briefly considered it in the beginning as they adjusted to the new dynamics, but he knew it was too dangerous and their schedules were far too unpredictable for the sort of stability omegas needed. He had fought time and time again against the push to add an omega to the team. They had settled into their roles easily, and operated perfectly fine with the missing dynamic.

Then the Omega Initiative was born and he found himself with no grounds to refuse anymore. Task Force 141 was getting an omega whether they wanted one or not.

He can’t help the tickle in the back of his mind that something else might be going on. He flips back to the first page, staring at the omega’s photo. They’d be here in a week. She’d be flying with Laswell to London where she’d be given a few days to adjust before they’d fly in here and she’ll be left with her new pack.

Price closes the file, leaning back in his chair. He has a lot to do in the next week.

You stare down at the files laid out on the table. Four of them, hardly more than a single page each, most of which was blacked out. They’re all older than you, their birth years at least visible to you. Most of the things on the file you don’t understand, and you weren't even sure how tall they were since you can’t convert meters to feet in your head.

You’re tired and on edge, nervous about tomorrow when you'd meet your new pack. You sit back in your seat, letting out a long breath.

“I know.” Station Chief Laswell, Kate as you had been told to call her, takes the seat across from you. “You’re going to have to get used to hearing the word classified. What they tell you about themselves is, of course, up to them, but the things they do, the places they go, even with your security clearance as high as it is, that will all still be-”

“Classified?” You finish for her.

Kate smiles. “Exactly. It’s mostly for your safety. The less you know...”

The less there is to make you a target.

You’d been given that speech before you left D.C. You’d been given a lot of briefings, as Kate had called them, since you had been pulled into the director’s office at The Institute and told to pack your bag. You remembered Kate and the interview you had done a few days prior. It hadn’t been any different than the other interviews you’d done before, except that you were chosen this time.

What had come after was three months of intense briefings and training, for what, you hadn’t really known at the time. They had told you little, at least until last week when Kate pulled you into her office and told you what was happening and why it was happening and where you were going.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, though.” Kate continues, something you’ve been told over and over again during your briefings. “They’re all good men. John and I know each other well. I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could handle them.”

You continue to stare at the files. Two alphas, two betas. It wasn’t an unusual pack, evenly balanced, except for the missing omega. If the situation were different they may have elected to have two omegas to keep the even balance. This wasn’t a normal situation, though. This was a military pack, special forces at that. It wasn’t unusual for packs to form on bases, especially those stationed together for long periods of time. Alphas and betas united together with one purpose, one collective goal.

That was why so many alphas were drawn to the military.

That, and the excuse for violence.

Omegas weren’t allowed to enlist, omegas weren’t allowed to hold many jobs at all. It was usually only in special circumstances, and even then, they were more likely to be assigned into a pack than be allowed to work and care for themselves. In a lot of ways you were lucky. You wouldn’t have to fight to find a pack, fight to find a match, fight for one of the few decent alphas left in the world. Your road had been chosen for you as soon as you presented.

In a lot of ways, though, things were worse for you.

“How do you feel?” Kate asks, looking you over. You’ve grown to like the beta Station Chief in the weeks you’ve spent together.

“Tired.” You run a hand across your face.

“The time difference will do that to you.” Kate says, giving you a sympathetic look. “Not to mention everything else.” Kate stands, stacking the files and pushing them to the center of the table. “I have a couple more errands to run, so get some rest. I’ll pick us up some dinner on the way back.”

You look nervous.

He can’t blame you. He’d felt a bit of a nervous twist to his stomach this morning as he’d finished ensuring everything was in place. He doesn’t often get nervous anymore, years and years of experience giving him the ability to expect anything and react accordingly.

This is different, though. This isn’t a soldier he’s greeting, this is an omega.

His omega.

As Pack Alpha he had more of a claim to you than anyone else. It was his mark you’d wear, his scent that everyone would notice first. It was his duty to protect you, to ensure you have everything you need. You’re not another member of his team, you’re not even a soldier. You’re just a poor civilian that’s been thrust into this world of danger and secrecy.

“Captain Price.” Laswell greets him, shaking his hand.

He greets her back, but he can’t help his gaze as it flickers to the omega. You’re small, as expected of an omega. Your sweatshirt hides most of your curves, but your jeans hug your full thighs. Most omegas are small and soft, designed to be held and healthy enough to bear children when cared for correctly.

He doesn’t even want to think about that.

Laswell introduces you, your feet shuffling a bit as you step forward toward him. Coming from an institute, you likely hadn’t had much contact with alphas before now. You try to stand taller, look braver as you stand before him, but he can smell the tangy edge of anxiety surrounding your scent.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say, shaking his hand. It’s small and warm in his, your skin soft and slightly clammy.

“The pleasure is mine.” He says, releasing your hand.

You let it drop to your side, pulling your sleeve down over your fingers. You shift on your feet, your body language betraying your nervousness. Hunched shoulders, fingers tugging your sleeves over your hands, shifting your weight foot to foot as if you might take off running at a moment’s notice. Your eyes dart across the airfield taking in the movement around them. You’re on edge, alert, and likely a little overwhelmed.

“I’ll show you around and let you get settled.” He says, his eyes shifting to Laswell. “You and I have some things to discuss.”

You follow behind him with Laswell as he leads you towards the building that served as the 141’s home base. He points out different places you might find yourself visiting. The gym, the rec area, the mess hall, and finally their barracks. He leads you down the hallway where their rooms were located, pointing out each door before he gets to yours, sandwiched between his own and Gaz’s, with Soap and Ghost on the other side.

He opens the door, letting you enter. He stays in the doorway, letting you explore the small space. Your bags had been brought in, the faint hint of the beta Corporal that had brought them in still lingering in the air. There’s four shirts folded neatly on the desk, one from each of them that they’d slept in for the last couple days to give you a chance to get used to their scents.

“The lads are still running a simulation, but they’ll be done within the hour.” He says, drawing your gaze from the bed. “We’ll let you get settled in and I’ll come get you when they’re ready.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say.

Laswell steps in as he steps away for a moment, letting the two of you say your goodbyes. You’d likely see Laswell again, and soon, but he knows after three months you’ll have bonded with her just a bit.

Price leads Laswell to his office after she leaves your room, his ears picking up the sound of the lock clicking into place as they walk away. He’d left it on for a reason, wanting to give you the ability to feel safe and secure as you adjusted, even though you had nothing to worry about.

“So.” Price says as he sits behind his desk, reclining back in his seat. “What can you really tell me about her?”

Laswell gives him a knowing look. “The CIA has had their eyes on her for years now. The Omega Initiative as it is now, isn’t how it started. They were going to train omegas as agents, and she was one of the first names on that list. They had FIOT put a hold on her file once she came of age.”

Federal Institute of Omega Training. The name was stamped on the front of your file. It was the highest rated institute in America, the place where most omegas born to politicians, government workers, and some military went.

“They had agents go in and pretend to be interested parties just to make it seem like there was interest in her.” Laswell continues. “But, you know omegas aren’t cut out for this kind of work, so they changed the Initiative. She was still at the top of the list, but there were some...hesitations as to where to place her.”

“What sort of hesitations?” He asks.

“You saw those scores, John. She’s a good omega. Those purebred instincts are strong, and that makes her an easy target.”

Most omegas born from an alpha/omega pairing were good at listening to their instincts. That was why they carried such a high standing, even among omegas. But, being so closely intune with their instincts made them more sensitive, more vulnerable. They were more likely to give in to an alpha, if the alpha knew how to play them right.

Laswell pulls a file from her bag, sliding it across his desk to him. “She’d get walked all over in a larger pack, and the last thing she needs is to get hurt by an overbearing alpha.” There’s something hidden in Laswell’s words, his mind filing that away for later. “I need someone I can trust with her. She’s smart, learns fast. She needs a challenge, but also someone that won’t take advantage of her.”

“It sounds like you’ve grown rather fond of her.” He says, flipping open the first page of the file. It’s the CIA’s data on her, everything they’d done in the last three months to prepare her for her life as a Special Operations pack omega.

“Like I said, I’m the one that picked her for your team.” Laswell leans forward against his desk. “She knows what she’s in for. She was well prepared for this kind of life. She’ll let you mark her, no questions asked because that’s what she’s been told to do. She’s obedient, John, almost to a fault.”

“That could be dangerous.” Price says.

“Yes, it could.” Laswell says. “I’m leaving her in your capable hands. She has my number, and so do you.”

Price walks her back to the airfield, his head reeling a bit as he replays their conversation over and over. The hidden messages in Laswell’s words aren’t lost on him, and his gut feeling that something else was going on had been correct.

“Take care of her, John.” Laswell says. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you.”

He hasn’t failed her yet.

Your body is tingling. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or something else. You haven’t been around an alpha since the day of your presentation, when you had been pulled from your home and taken to the institute. You had nearly wanted to keel over when you came face to face with Captain Price. Your alpha. He’s a commanding presence, the tickling at the back of your neck still not quite gone even though the door is shut and locked.

The bed is comfortable, not any worse than what you slept on in the institute. There’s extra pillows and blankets stacked at the end, likely for your nest when you finally settled enough to make one. The door to the private bathroom is cracked open, facing the end of the bed. There’s four shirts on the desk next under the window next to the bathroom door, and your bags are sitting in front of the dresser and closet situated on the opposite wall from the bed.

You push yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs wobble as you stare down at the four shirts on the desk. They’re all olive green, folded neatly in the exact same way. You wouldn’t have known any different, except for the scents gently wafting from them, and the names on the tags.

Price. You pick up the one that will be the most familiar, bringing it to your nose. Tobacco smoke, aftershave, something sharp like whiskey. All things you had scented on him in your short time together. Underneath you catch a whiff of his natural scent. Something woody, fresh. A tingle crawls up your spine, prickling in the back of your neck again. You drop the shirt on the desk, taking a step back to breathe in the unscented air for a moment.

You’re breathing heavily as you go for the shirt next to Price’s. Garrick. You press the shirt against your nose, inhaling. Aftershave, different from Price’s. Some kind of lotion. Coconut oil maybe? You can’t pick up more than the base scent of beta, the soothing almondy scent.

You take another deep inhale of it, letting the beta scent ease you before you let it drop to the desk beside Price’s. You grab the one next to it, looking at the tag. MacTavish. You lift it to your face, scenting another aftershave. There’s something citrusy mixed in as well, slightly watered down compared to the scent of the aftershave. Again, you can’t pick up more than the scent of beta, letting it ease the tickling on the back of your neck again before you let it drop back on the desk.

One more to go.

You pick up the last shirt. Ghost. The faceless one. You bring the shirt to your nose, wincing slightly at the sharp tang of gunpowder and metal, smoke and a lingering aftershave. You try to smell deeper, but your nose burns with scent blocker spray. You let out a huff, dropping it back onto the desk.

This Ghost was dedicated to his anonymity.

He’s going to be a problem.

You sink back onto the bed, eyeing the shirts. Your senses have heightened, picking up the scents wafting off of them, mixing in the air. You pick up the sound of boots approaching, three pairs of feet making their way down the hall. You can hear them talking and laughing as they approach. There’s a pause outside your door and you hold your breath, sitting as still as possible.

Of course they can smell you. You had sprayed yourself down with scent blockers before you left the hotel, but it had likely worn off by now. Even with the blocker, the scent of unmated omega wasn’t hidden easily. The entire base had probably caught a whiff of your scent by now. Caramel, vanilla, strawberries with the undertone of pure omega that made alphas go insane.

“Coming, Si?”

Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and for a moment you’re afraid your heartbeat might be audible from how hard it’s pounding. Steps recede from your door and you don’t breathe until they’ve disappeared.

You decide to unpack to keep your mind busy as you wait. You don’t have much, mostly clothes from the institute and toiletries. You don’t even have a photo of your family, that part of your life behind you. You put your clothes away, venturing into the small bathroom to put away your toiletries. There’s towels already inside, along with a few things like shampoo and soap. They’re all scentless, like the things you had brought from the institute.

Nothing that could dampen your natural scent.

You almost don’t hear the knock on the door, lost in your own thoughts. You take a steadying breath, hand hesitating over the lock. What if it wasn’t Price? What if it wasn’t anyone from your new pack?

“Just me.” Price’s voice comes through the door.

Of course he would notice your hesitation. He’s a trained soldier, he’s always going to be aware of his surroundings. You unlock the door, opening it slowly.

Price greets you with a small smile, your nose picking up the scent of his aftershave and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke now that you’re attune to it. “They’re ready, if you are.” He says.

You nod. “Yeah, I guess.” It wasn’t like you had much of a choice to say no.

You slip out the door, closing it behind you. You’d ditched your sweatshirt, wearing a scoop-necked shirt to give them easy access for the scenting. Price leads you down the hallway, back towards his office. You’re not quite sure what to expect, the nervous twisting in your stomach coming back.

“I thought we’d do it in a meeting room.” Price says, likely picking up on the change in your scent. “Somewhere neutral.”

It’s smart, it’ll keep you from getting too overwhelmed by other scents or sounds. The last thing you need to do is panic and send them all into a spiral. Talk about a first impression.

Price pauses outside a door, looking down at you. His gaze is kind, almost sympathetic as you take a deep breath. “Ready?”

Not really, but you wouldn’t dare say that. You have to do this, and the sooner you got the awkward part over with, the easier things will get. You nod, hands tugging nervously at the bottom of your shirt. “Yes, sir.”

Price opens the door, stepping in first. You’re glad for the few moments you’re hidden behind him as the scents in the room slam into you. Alpha and two betas, scents you recognize from their shirts. They stand as Price enters, and for a moment you want to stay hidden behind the alpha but you know you have to be brave. You were made for this. The words drilled into your brain over and over again at the institute flash through your brain. You have one job in life and this is it.

You can hold power over them.

The words from the book your bunkmate had smuggled in flash through your mind. “The Powerful Omega”, it had been titled. Authored by a progressive omega, it talked all about how powerful omegas could be, even those forced into traditional roles. You can get them all wrapped around your finger if you wanted to.

You steady your nerves, clenching your hands into fists at your sides and step out from behind Price. Your skin prickles as three sets of eyes are set on you. Price is speaking but you’re not really listening as you take them in. You recognize the two betas from their files.

Gaz, you pick up Price doing introductions, has kind eyes. He’s tall for a beta, almost the same height as Price. He waves to you, offering you a small smile.

Soap is the shortest of the four, more what you would expect from a beta. “Good to meet ya, lass.” He greets you, giving you a charming smile. He’s going to push your boundaries, you can tell.

You’re beginning to see the dynamics already.

“And Ghost.” Price says, your eyes finally moving to the place you’ve been avoiding since you walked in.

All hulking muscle, Ghost seems to take up the entire room. Your heart flutters nervously as you meet his dark gaze, his face hidden by a balaclava with a skull painted on the front. His presence is oppressive, tickling the back of your neck. You’re not sure if you want to run or submit to him, every inch of him screaming alpha.

Price’s hand on your back nearly makes you jump, your gaze finally drawing away from Ghost and back to him. “Come on, take a seat. Tell us about yourself.”

Price sits at the head of the table, Ghost, Soap and Gaz to his left. You take the seat on the right, staring at the other three members of your pack. You jump into your spiel, things that they already knew if they’d read your file. There’s not much else to tell, since everything about you was in that file. That was its purpose, to make you look as appealing as possible to potential alphas and packs.

“What about your family?” Soap asks, the sharp scent of your nervous energy spiking for a moment. “Do you still talk to them?”

You shake your head. “Not for a few years. Institutes don’t really encourage keeping ties with previous packs, but I know there were a few omegas that did. It was hard to keep track of where my family was.”

“Your father was a Marine, correct?” Price, even though they already know the answer.

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

“You lived on base?” He asks.

You nod again. “Yes, sir. We moved a lot, but we lived in pack housing on every base. We were a family pack, and I was number four of eight by the time I presented.”

“When did you get sent to the Institute?” He asks, almost regretting answering it.

It’s a sore subject, he can tell by the change in your face and the slight souring of your scent. “The day after I presented.” You say.

The tension in the room is palpable, Soap and Gaz’s eyes widening in shock as Ghost's shoulders tense just slightly. Price stares at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He knew it was likely shortly after, but that soon? Most would wait until the presentation had finished at least, and usually there was some downtime when it came to getting into an institute as well.

“My father was a traditionalist alpha.” You say, something they also knew by your status. It was printed all over your file, squeezed in every place it could be as a reminder of your worth to whomever was reading it. “It was because we were already on base that they got to me so fast.” You explain. “It was my dad’s status in the Marines that got me into FIOT.”

“What was it like, in the institute?” Gaz asks, wanting to change the subject a bit, if only to ease the sourness in your scent.

You huff out a laugh, the corner of your lips lifting in a smile. “Not unlike the military, I think. We had strict schedules we stuck to every day. Everything was dictated for us, what we wore, what we learned, what we did with our free time and how often we got it. Even what we ate was chosen for us. We always had to be ready to be tested at any time, and we were always being observed.”

“Your test scores were high.” Price remarks.

You shrug. “I’m a perfect omega, or so my instructors always said. It comes easily to me. I don’t really have to think much about it.”

“Did you really kneel for two hours straight?” Gaz asks.

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah. There was one day...it was a couple years ago. I don’t know what caused it but there was something in the air. We were all on edge and worked up. The director got tired of us and made us all kneel in the mess hall during our two hour afternoon break. No cushions, no pillows. Just all forty of us, kneeling on the marble floor for two hours. Not everyone could do it. Quite a few got too fidgety, couldn’t handle the pain. Three even passed out.”

“How did you manage it?” Gaz asks.

Price wasn’t a fan of using instinctual habits as punishment. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can only imagine what else you could say they forced you to do with such nonchalance.

“To be honest, I don’t remember most of it. I just let my mind go somewhere else and before I knew it the time was up.” You shrug.

“We won’t make you kneel for two hours.” Price says. “And definitely not without a pillow.”

You smile softly. “Thank you, sir.”

Price watches you, the way your eyes dart around the room again, the sour edge of your scent gone, but the tang of anxiety remains. You’ve relaxed some, though, your shoulders are not quite so tense and you’ve stopped picking at your nails.

Ghost has remained silent the entire time you’ve spoken, eyes glued on you. You’ve tried not to look at him, finding your words get stuck in your throat whenever you meet his gaze.

He’s going to be a problem.

“There’s some rules we need to go over before anything else.” Price says. “You have freedom to roam this building as you please, but one of us will escort you if you need to go elsewhere at least until you’ve been marked. There’s other alphas on this base and I don’t want them getting any ideas.”

You knew well enough omegas frequented the barracks on bases often. You don’t want to be mistaken as one. Even with their scents on you, you know that won’t stop some. You’re not even sure a mark will stop them either.

“I want full transparency. If something happens you come to me, or you call Kate if we’re gone. If you need anything too, the same order stands.” You’re beginning to detect the edge to his voice, The Captain slipping through his more casual demeanor. “We have some downtime to adjust for now, but sometimes we may leave for weeks at a time. It will be rough, I won’t lie to you, but Kate pulled some strings and there’s an Omega Specialist that’s been brought in for you. You’ll meet her later, I’m sure she wants to do a full workup.”

You’ve met many Omega Specialists in your time. The beta medical professionals that go through specialized training so they can assist and treat omegas better than regular doctors and medics. Most of them go through a residency at Institutes, studying and practicing on young omegas. The thought of having at least someone who might understand you on a deeper level is comforting.

“I’m starving, let’s get the scenting over with.” Soap nearly whines, rubbing his stomach.

His words strike a chord of nervous energy in you again. You had been prepared many times for the scenting. You’d seen instructional videos and done mock practices with your fellow omegas. Yet you feel like it’s not going to be enough. These were real alphas and betas, your pack. What if you don’t like the way they smell?

What if they don’t like the way you smell?

“If you’re alright with it?” Price says, looking at you.

You’re taken aback by the offer for consent. You weren’t expecting it, as this was something you have to do. What would happen if you said no? Would they respect your boundaries? The fact you had been asked at all is shocking to you. You won’t say no, because you’ll have to do it eventually, and at least this way you’ll be walking around smelling like them. If nothing else, it might make this transition a bit easier.

“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing down your nerves. “I’m okay with it.”

All five of you stand from the table, your stomach churning with nervous energy. You try to clear your head, try to calm yourself so you don’t stink them out with your anxiety. You need your scent to be clear, to be as tantalizing as possible.

“Don’t look so worried, lass.” Soap says as they gather around you. “We won’t bite.” He winks at you playfully.

Your cheeks warm as Price steps up to you. He is right, that would come later. Likely during your first heat when Price would give you his mark and claim you as his. It wasn’t unusual for packs with multiple alphas to let more than one claim an omega, but judging from what you’ve seen of Ghost, you’re not sure that’s going to happen.

He had a right to claim you too, but from the look of it, he was the least excited about your joining their pack.

You tense as Price’s hands settle on your waist, lifting you up so you’re seated on the edge of the table, putting you closer to being eye-to-eye with them. They’re all so big, the natural consequence of genetics and their jobs.

“Ready?”

You turn to look up at Price, close enough you can see the freckles on his nose and the grey in his blue eyes. You nod, pressing your hands into the table as you bare your neck for him. Your heart is fluttering in your chest as he leans in closer, pressing his face against your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he rubs his face against your scent gland, warm breaths fanning against your skin.

He pulls away just slightly, baring his own neck to you. You press forward, gripping the edge of the table as you press your face against his throat. You catch the scents you had picked up on his shirt in your room, the surface level scents that were environmental. You close your eyes, inhaling deeper. Woody. Pine? Spruce? It reminds you of a candle your mother used to burn. There’s another scent, the one that lingers. Petrichor, you think, rubbing your face against his scent gland.

His hand on your side pulls you back from your scent-induced haze, and you force yourself back from him. You take deep breaths of the sterile air in the meeting room, picking up his scent more clearly now as it mixes with the others.

“Good girl.” He says, squeezing your side gently. Something flutters in your stomach at his praise, some deep primal part of your brain preening at the thought of making your alpha proud. “Ghost.” He says, stepping back from you.

You’re snapped back into reality as the hulking alpha steps up towards you, moving almost silently. You try to keep yourself calm as he stalks towards you, his sharp gaze burning into yours.

He’s testing you.

You won’t satisfy him, holding his gaze as he reaches you, his thighs pressing against your knees. One hand comes to rest next to your hip on the table, his body leaning in towards you. You’re enveloped by the black fabric of his sweatshirt as his other hand reaches up to tug his balaclava up. Stubble tickles your skin as he presses his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. He lets out a quiet sound as he scents you, almost akin to a growl.

He shifts his weight, pressing his uncovered scent gland against your face. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Gunpowder and metal stings your nose again, along with the scent of his body wash. You press deeper into his throat, seeking out his natural scent. Something deep and musky washes over you, like suede or leather. There’s something fresh in there too, almost like eucalyptus. You press your face closer, inhaling it deeply. Your head spins, and you’re sure your knees would have given out if you hadn’t been sitting.

Something rumbles in Ghost's chest as you scent him in a daze. While all alphas’ scents carried a natural musk, Ghosts seems to shoot directly to some deep part of your brain even Price’s scent hadn’t reached.

You let out a quiet whine as he’s pulled from you, his mask back in place by the time you pry your eyes open. Ghost is leaning back against the wall, eyes back to their icy stare as he watches you. Your head is still spinning as someone steps up next to you, taking Ghost’s place.

“How ya doing?” Gaz asks, eyes assessing you. “Hanging in there?”

You nod, taking a couple deep breaths to try and clear your head.

“You’re halfway there.” He says, leaning in closer. “Got through the hard part.”

His breath fans your neck as he leans in, the familiar scent of beta flooding your senses. He was likely doing it on purpose, trying to calm you after the intensity of being scented by two alphas. You breathe in the almondy scent, relaxing into him as he scents you. Your hands raise, gripping his shoulders as he presses his neck close to your face. You seek out the source of the calming scent, pressing your nose into his scent gland.

You’re drawn from the room and to the time your family took a trip to the beach when your father was stationed in North Carolina. Salty sea air, briney and clean, and something else, something soft. Like the clean linen scented spray your mother used on the laundry. You’re clinging to him, his arms around you as you relax into his scent. The tingling energy that had begun to build up at the proximity to the alphas fades as you melt into the calming energy of the beta in front of you.

“Easy.” He says, his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you away from him. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head. “Still with us?” He asks, meeting your gaze.

“Yeah.” You say, sounding breathless. You knew scenting could be intense, but you hadn’t expected it to feel quite like this.

“Almost done, hen.” Soap says, taking Gaz’s place in front of you. “Lucky there’s only four of us.”

He’s right, you think as you bear your throat for him. You’re not sure you could have handled it had there been more of them. You already feel like you’re floating, enveloped in so many scents you’re not sure what to do. That tingling has begun at the back of your neck as Soap scents you, your eyes meeting Ghost’s. The look in them has changed, his body poised like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Soap pulls back, blocking your view of him as he bears his throat to you. You press your face into his neck, pushing past the scents you knew, and that beta scent, looking for him.

You inhale deeply, the scent of warm spices invading your nose. It smells like the holidays, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger enveloping you. You can almost taste the apple pie, see the gingerbread houses. You cling to his shirt, holding him against you as you rub your face against his throat.

You’re trembling just slightly as Soap withdraws from your hold. It’s subtle, but to them, highly aware soldiers, it’s likely clear as day. Your skin is buzzing, like the fluorescent lights above you. You can hear it now, the buzz of electricity. Your pupils are blown, the room suddenly clearer and sharper.

“There she is.” The low grumble of Price’s voice begins to pull you from your heightened state, your eyes turning to him as his hand cups your cheek.

You press into the rough palm of his hand, eyes picking up the grey in his beard and hair as he stands in front of you. He’s older than you, they’re all older than you. Older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you. A small tickle of fear begins to itch in the back of your mind, drawing you from your daze.

You’re vulnerable, entirely vulnerable and incapable of defending yourself against them. Forgetting second genders, they’re all much stronger than you, not to mention trained fighters. You’d be fucked if they decided to try anything, if they wanted to do anything. You’d be entirely helpless against them.

They could if they wanted to.

It would be well within their rights. Even though you had just met, even though you bore no claiming mark, there was nothing stopping them. You couldn’t stop them, and no one would help you.

“You hungry, pup?”

Price’s voice cuts through your fearful daze. There’s a slight furrow to his brow, likely picking up the sharp edge seeping into your scent. Omega fear and distress was the one defense nature gave to your kind, aside from the omega itself. It’s a putrid scent meant to ward off alphas and betas. You’ve heard it described as smelling like sulfur, burning coals, gasoline, melting plastic, and sometimes even the ozonic scent that accompanied alphas in a true rage. It was a warning, but it doesn't always work.

Pup. Price called you Pup.

You haven’t been called “pup” since you were a pup. It’s a commonly used nickname for any status. You remember your father calling your older brothers pup, even after they presented. It could be derogatory, but it’s more commonly used affectionately. He’s trying to ease your discomfort, the fear welling up inside you.

The door is open, the fresh air of the hallway watering down the heavy mix of scents that had become trapped in the room. Soap and Gaz have already stepped out, Ghosts hulking figure blocking the doorway for a moment as he follows them, leaving you alone with Price for a moment.

“Alright?” Price asks as your gaze meets his again.

You nod, still leaning into his touch. “Yeah, ‘s a lot.”

“I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Soap nearly passed out when we scented him.”

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. It wasn’t unusual for scentings to become so intense that the receiver passes out. You’re sure if there had been more than four in your new pack you would have passed out.

“Come on.” He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you off the table and onto unsteady legs. He doesn’t even grunt with the effort, moving you easily. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not entirely one of fear.

His hand is warm on your back as he leads you out of the room, the clean air in the hallway clearing your head further. Most bases have circulating air systems, constantly filtering out scents to keep things as neutral as possible. They’re less effective in smaller areas though, especially after scents were intentionally projected. Most military members wore scent blockers, at least while performing their duties. You remember your father coming home at the end of the day with the dull burn of scent blocker still on his clothes.

Your head is still spinning a bit as you follow them out of the barracks and towards the mess hall. They seem to almost walk in a formation, though you suppose with years of having it drilled in your head, it’s almost second nature. You’re sandwiched between Soap and Gaz in the middle, Price in front and Ghost bringing up the rear.

The other personnel on the base give your group a wide berth, and even in the mess you can feel the glances, but none of the stares linger. Price guides you next to him as you get your food, adding things to your tray for you. That tickling feeling starts again at the back of your neck as he makes your plate, your omega preening happily at the knowledge of what he’s doing.

He’s proving his ability as a provider.

In more primordial times he might have gone out and hunted for food to bring back to you to prove his capabilities. Even in more modern times, he might have hunted as some alphas still did, or he would have gone to the store to keep the fridge stocked full of food. Alphas are good at adapting to their surroundings and situations. He’s proving his capabilities in the way he can.

You’re also silently grateful to not have to think too hard about the choices in front of you. Even after a week, British food is still a bit unfamiliar to you. It’s not entirely indiscernible, though, and you’re sure you could pick out things that sounded good if you had to. At this moment, though, with your head still reeling a bit and the unsettling energy of a new place filled with unknown alphas and betas, you’re happy to let Price do it for you.

He carries your tray and his to a table, sitting you next to him. Gaz takes your other side, Soap and Ghost sitting across from you. The choices in their seating arrangement don’t feel quite so random to you, and you quickly realize the arrangement is similar to the room setup in the barracks.

A beta for each alpha, you think. Gaz and Price. Soap and Ghost.

Then there’s you, stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Somehow you’ll fit between them, squeezing into their perfect dynamic. Omegas are supposed to help balance packs, but as you sit with the four members of your new pack, you can’t help but feel like you’re only going to make things more difficult.

I'm willing to put together a taglist if people are interested...

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #141 x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #cod x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #a/b/o

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its-your-mind · 4 months

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I really really really love how the show is depicting Gabe. In the books, Percy doesn't think much about Gabe - he sucks, he's a dick, and he's smelly. Percy doesn't understand why his mom stays with him, but he’s a kid - he doesn't put too much thought into the ins-and-outs of the relationship. It's not even until the end of the book that he realizes that Gabe's been actually hitting Sally.

And so all we have for him now is the time we spend with Gabe at the start, and…

This is supposed to be his and Sally's apartment. Sally's the only one who brings in income, but the whole house is Gabe's. Only the one chair in front of the TV, even though Gabe said that he and Sally watch the Knicks together. His trash is all over the house, his poker table was leaning up against the wall... And he obviously feels like he is entitled to touch anything in the apartment, up to and including things that are explicitly Sally's:

And then, when Sally tells Gabe that she and Percy are going on their trip to Montauk...

He goes into the conversation expecting a bribe, and Sally already has one prepared. This is obviously a song and dance they've done plenty of times before.

Because abusive relationships rarely, if ever, look horrible from the outside. And they're not absolutely awful 100% of the time, either. Most abusers aren't cartoonish villains, nor are they awful to their spouses with every word they say. Abuse is often subtle, hard to notice, only clear in retrospect and when you consider a lot of individual instances of slightly off-color behavior all together.

This version of Gabe Ugliano isn't as obvious an abuser or villain as Smelly Gabe of the books, but he is more true-to-life - taking advantage of Sally, invading her privacy, the joint understanding that she won't be allowed to do something for herself and her son without his tacit approval. All of those are key hallmarks of domestic abuse, of a partner who has gained control over the relationship through emotional manipulation or physical threats and/or violence.

#pjo #pjo tv #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #gabe ugliano #sally jackson #pjo gifs #percy jackson gif #tw abuse #cw abuse #abuse

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iwaasfairy · 1 month

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┌─ “ ! „ FEARLESS, STUPID

tw. a/b/o, military au, dystopian au, noncon, threesome, heat, dumbification, double penetration, patronization/ degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, dom/sub themes, choking, anal play, a lot of spit and cum, size kink, tummy bulging, mentions of human captives, kinda forced prostitution wordcount. 9.8k

a/n. I had a lot of fun writing this one bc it’s just extremely fairycore and indulgent. heavily inspired by rhi and her incredible brain for writing the hand that feeds!!! I love that fic and have always wanted to write smt set in vaguely the same world. thank you to everyone who beta read as well I appreciate it soooo much ♡♡

geto suguru, kong shiu, fushiguro toji x fem!reader

The air is dry and cold, enough to hurt on the way in. It’s cold enough for your warm air to come back out and form droplets on your nose that drip into the snow.

Your head down, crouched in the smallest shape you can make yourself, is how you find yourself drifting in and out of focus. Not only are you cold and hungry, but it’s been long enough for the scent of smoke and ash and foul, sour fear to have started losing it’s smell. You can’t even expend the energy to move your head to the side and look, without getting tired. The crunching of the heavy boots in the snow is the only thing that’s pulling you back into it. That and the occasional clang of the line of cuffs shaking around someone’s wrists.

It’s gone quiet now.

You wonder if others have fallen asleep. You’re not far off yourself. When some commotion happens over by the gates, some of the uniformed figures rush to go look, feet kicking up snow as they go — It’s a blur of shouts and orders, before the loud hum of an armored vehicle stops not too far away. That’s all it takes to wake you up again, and despite yourself, your arms start shaking in their place behind your back. The cold of the metal radiates all through your bones.

You realize you’re scared. That’s the thumping between your ears.

“Lieutenant. Good evening, Sir.”

A soft, almost warm voice stands in stark contrast against the cold of the surroundings when the feet stop a few steps short of the kneeling row of people. “At ease, soldier.” He sounds older than some of the youthful faces you’ve seen here, dragging people around by their ankles to stuff them into loaded trucks. But not old. Not nearly old enough to carry the weight he does. “What’s all this?” the voice pivots, aimed now towards your group. A few of the women beside you uneasily shuffle in their places.

“Captives from a raid by the fifth division this morning. They interfered with the commission’s supply line when they tried to escape.”

You smell smoke with each breath. The man makes a soft humming noise, before he scans the row of kneeling people again. “So why are they still here? We have plenty of mouths to feed already.” You have seen what they do with prisoners here. Just this one, long day has shown you all you need to know. Your life will be short and unnoticed, and if you’re lucky, you won’t go through hell before you’re shot between your eyes. The cold air makes clouds in front of your face, as the steam rises above the snow into the black night. “Beta's?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You strain your neck to tilt your head up. You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe it’s the wrongful association of that voice, smooth and lithe and easy- with the pain you’ve witnessed. You don’t have much hope of making it out, and though you could beg, you’re not even sure if they see you as human enough to consider a plea a plea. Your eyes glide up the perfectly fitted suits, dark gray and gold until you find the face of the leader— and startle. Long, black hair is tied into a sloppy bun in his neck, and long bangs almost hide one eye from view.

But the eyes are striking and sharp and long lashes frame them against pale skin, and you can’t look away when his lips form the words. “So, kill them.” His cigarette burns bright orange when he takes another pull.

The younger of the two only lets out the briefest breath. “...Yes, Sir.”

The fear makes the pitched whimper get stuck in your throat, and more puffy clouds drift out of your lips when you start to shuffle in a panic. Not fight, you don’t ever fight. The man turns on his heel. And you’re not the only one, as soon cries and sniffles and the petrified glances only set you off more. Your eyes drop to the muddied, dirty patches of snow that the cars drove through, the people around the camp; as your stomach turns and your bottom lip starts to wobble. You knew this is how you’d turn out.

As soon as they put the cuffs on and tossed you onto the ground to wait… your own whimpering just melts into that of the others, but peaks when a hand grabs you by the hair and yanks you up, then lifts you by your arm. “No, no, stop!” The girls around you start screaming too, one grabbing at your arms to pull you back down. But the soldier doesn’t hesitate to kick her in the nose, as you cry, trembling like a kitten picked up by her neck.

Everyone’s scared for themselves, but they’re scared for you too, and you for them. “Stop, please! Please!” They cry. The blood thumping between your ears makes it hard to focus on anything but the painful grip on you, and the disgusted face of the man before you. When you don’t make any effort to fight, he drops you back down into the cold snow, and instead aims the long barrel of his gun straight at you.

You can’t even look away, as your heart rate slows. As you watch the small snowflakes come from the sky to meet you.

“Wait.” The voice returns when he stops halfway to the car, and makes your eyes shoot up to find his face, as shivers roll down your back. You know you’re stinking up the place, as the placating hands of the girls around you reach to brush fingers. It’s not much, but allows you to take a sniveling breath. “This one’s an Omega… Settle down, soldier. We’re not trying to hurt, are we?” The buzzcut’s eyes widen slightly, maybe as he takes a first good look at you and notices the smaller frame, big doe-like eyes, the softer set of your face and demeanor. Just as quickly as he gives you another up and down, he steps aside and lowers his heavy-duty gun back to the ground.

The older one takes a step back towards you. Your face must be windbitten, lips cracked and cold and stained with tears where you sit, but the noiret doesn’t falter as he drops into a squat before you. His face breaks out into a soft smile, and his hand rises to brush along your cheek, avoiding the black eye as he goes. “You’re a rare find. You on blockers?” Not enough recent ones to keep out all of the scent, clearly.

It’s not a question that needs answering, but as his thumb brushes over your lip, you find yourself giving the smallest nod. Gently, careful not to make any harsh movements. He does the same when he helps you right yourself back onto your knees, and then gives you a slow, calculated trace with his ocean-dark, silvery eyes. “Smart. We almost missed out on you with all the Beta stench.” A small furrow worms between his brows. “Are there others?” He asks, and then gives a swift continuation. “Don’t lie. If you lie I’ll know.”

Your voice cracks when you start. “I- If I tell you- what will happen to them?”

With only the slightest bit of hesitation, he seems to mull it over. Sharp, angular features soften just a bit as he draws his hand back from your face to run it under his nose instead. And whatever he smells must soothe the urge to get angry at being questioned, because his cheeks push up genially until his eyes are practically just moons. “How’s this? I’ll be fair, after hearing whatever information you have.” The anxiety ebbs and flows as you look to the faces at your side, then swallow.

Your heart hammers wildly in your chest. You have no reason to lie. There’s no one left that didn’t get shot as they ran… You clear your strained voice with a tight cough. “I- this is all that’s left. There’s no one else. We had people who escaped before you even closed in. B-but there weren’t any Omega’s left, the last raid already took them all. That’s all I know.” You try to keep your bottom lip from wobbling as you talk, ignoring the cold of the tears that are now freezing on your lashes.

Those dark, unrelenting eyes don’t waver as you speak, and you can’t help but wonder what it is he sees. Surely he knows, you wouldn’t need to lie. Just as you start getting anxious at the silence, he gets up from the floor, before dusting impatient hands over his pristine jacket— and a saccharine smile slips back onto his lips as he waves a hand. “Bring the Omega.” You jump when the soldier from earlier immediately starts yanking at your chains, but that’s it. It’s not in your nature to fight back. Then the Lieutenant walks back to the car as another opens it for him, and casts a final glance your way.

The smile doesn’t fall when he shifts that gaze to the side, and sucks his teeth. “Kill the monkeys.”

There’s nothing more embarrassing than having to fight your nature at every turn. You’re confronted with it more than you’ve ever been before, when they drag you across the cold tiles with your legs kicking, tears rolling in thick beads down your face and neck. You’re not a fighter. You’re not made for it. At every chance, your body chooses the easiest way out, oblige now, suffer later. Even when your mind screams at you to run, bite and kick and escape — you stay down. Cold metal slices into the tender and sore skin of your wrists when they yank you up another few feet, before dropping you onto the floor next to the makeshift desk.

You’re sniveling like a child. The man behind the desk looks at the several soldiers who stay put, before lifting an eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Geto says you’re to clean her up for processing.” One of the men sighs, before glaring down at you with a tight-lipped frown. It sets the hairs on your neck on end to feel such blatant displeasure from an Alpha.

The lighter haired young man stands from the chair at that, and gives you a quick once over. “For the barracks or to be sent to the commission?” He smiles when you look up at him, gentler, then places a warm hand on the top of your head to start soothing you. It’s enough to make your lip wobbly. The little bit of warmth isn’t enough… but it feels so nice. So good, to have a caring touch.

One of the other soldiers takes the heavy strap off his shoulder to put the gun down, and grunts. “Neither.” His top lip lifts into a scowl as he glares at the corner of the room, before turning to look down at you too. “Personal pick, I heard.”

The other soldier remains at the door, but clicks his tongue. “And we’re supposed to keep our mouths shut about it.”

“You ever had an Omega?” The one asks the other, nervously grinding his gun in circles. “I haven’t. Yet we’re going to war for ‘em… Only for pompous pricks to get first pick of the litter because they’re bold enough not to report to the commission.” The soldier grins without any amusement from across you, and you can’t help but hide more into the leg of the man who’s still touching you kindly. “Goin’ to war for pussies like yours… must make you something real special, right? But you’re unreported. What’s keeping me from just… taking you for myself?” Then he looks between the two other men. “I’m even willing to share between the three of us if you’d help out. Keep some things quiet.”

“You said the Lieutenant picked her out because he liked her, right?” The lighter haired man runs his free hand through his undercut, then leans down to lift you under your arms and get you onto tired legs against him. “Means you got something in return for keeping a secret already.” He’s all wired muscle under the uniform he wears, and wraps his arm around the small of your back before picking you up entirely. “Don’t do something stupid. There’s no place to keep her where some officer wouldn’t smell her anyway. Can’t keep her under your mattress like a pack of cards, can you?” He starts walking you towards the doors of a presumed bathroom without complaining, even though the other guy clicks his tongue.

“Itadori. You think you’re helping out just being another dog for the commission?”

“Instead of a thief?” He pushes the door open with one hand, already walking through. “Go get your free drinks or cigarettes or whatever he promised you, and do your job. I’m doing mine.”

The door falls shut with a loud noise behind you both, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. Your arms wrap a little tighter around his neck. “T-Thank you.”

His grey eyes find yours, before he smiles again. Softer. He’s an Alpha too, but must come into contact with your kind more frequently. He feels gentler to the touch when he speaks. “Don’t thank me yet.” Then he deposits you in a stained, old bathtub, and sighs before grabbing the showerhead. “Let’s get you cleaned up first. Ranking officers like their girls extra clean.” When you don’t move, he goes to take off your dirty shirt, and you only shiver in place as it happens.

After a few seconds of silence where he brushes fingers over the unmarked stretch of your neck, you swallow tightly. “You can’t let me go, can you?”

Itadori turns up the water until it’s warm, and his brows flatten. “…No. I’m here to do a job. I’m sorry.” You believe him. Doesn’t make you feel any better, though.

The cot is barely big enough for you, and the cold from the floor radiates up through the ratty, old mattress into you. But it’s still better than sleeping in the bed where Geto sleeps, where he can get his hands all over you, hold you, cling to you. You’re glad that the Lieutenant doesn’t particularly care whether or not you shy back away from him for the night, as long as you don’t act up when he wants you close. It’s an unwritten contract he likes to pretend you have. As if you weren’t forced into it. As if you had any choice.

The starchy sheets are cold too, they leave you shivering more than sleeping. When you walk through the halls you’re cold and barefoot and uncomfortable, but when you’re here you’re colder, naked and more uncomfortable.

You don’t know that much about the army. You don’t know that much about other things either, but you know that Omega’s are few and far in between. You know they go for lots of money, money that even Geto doesn’t have. You know that he’s using you to your full potential before his higher-ups find out, and that too much commotion would draw attention of the commission. Attention you don’t want. When your teeth start chattering, the man in the large bed, with the soft pillows and body heat calls.

Says your name like he means it. Like he likes to whisper to get under your skin- holding your life between slim fingers. He sighs. “Come. Get into bed. I can’t sleep when you’re not sleeping. And you’re not going to sleep when you’re shivering to death.”

“I’ll sleep,” you softly assure, pull your thin blanket closer. Your feet are cold and the room isn’t dark enough for it to actually happen. But you can pretend.

“I’m not asking.” You know he’s not. Maybe it’s because the alarm clock is showing an ungodly hour— and he’s tired. It wouldn’t be the first time his boot meets your cheek when you whine too much, displease him in ways Geto doesn’t like. “Come.”

He yawns when opening the blankets, waves you closer. An Alpha demands, and your lungs ache to follow the order. It physically hurts to resist. Your thin layer of tears sit on your waterline for a while before you shift. Slip across the room naked, and crawl into the bed under his arm. “That’s a good pet…” The panes of his chest are warm enough to have you melting like ice into his shape and mold yourself to him. It’s in the weight of his arm over your waist as he pulls you in close. Tethers you. You want to be and stay mad. Frightened.

It’s just… Geto’s scent’s become one you can bury yourself into. Your hands ball against his chest, and the fingers he presses into your hips stray down.

Your breathing hitches at the touch, and your stomach seems to want to crawl up into your mouth when he spreads your legs apart. “I’m hardly the worst one here. Get used to it already. People here are frustrated. Many of them haven’t had an Omega in years.” His rough fingertips slide between your legs and trace over the raw, achy mess he made of you not hours before. It’s sticky and uncomfortable, and you jerk when he rather impatiently starts thumbing your clit. It hurts- enough to make your face scrunch as you hide it into his pecks. “You don’t even know how lucky you are that I’ve kept you to myself.”

You do know that, though. You’ve passed by some of the barracks further away from the officer buildings. You’ve smelled the Omega fear, the blood and sweat and ruts; or what it’s like for a person to beg for a moment of reprieve. You have not a scratch on you, and you should be more grateful than you are. That you’re not taking a whole division’s sexual frustration to keep them from killing each other. When his fingers slide the wetness, remnants of slick and cum back into you and force your pussy to stretch again- you start sniffling against him. “I know I am,” you whimper, biting your lip. It’s not enough to just be this. You can’t just lay and wish for it all to go away. You have to be a participant, or Geto might switch you out.

As you whimper, swallowing back the tears- he presses his lips against your forehead. “Can’t help but cry? Poor baby.” He grinds the fleshy part of his palm against your pussy, breathing against you. “Tell me what it feels like.”

“I- Feels- b-big,” you choke out, twitching when his fingers curl into you and fuck deeper until they stroke much deeper than your own. The coldness fades a little when he rolls you over onto your back and gets on top, pinning you with his thigh. “Geto-sama- Please stop, I’m still- sore. It- it hurts really bad.”

With a slight frown, he pulls his fingers out of you and wipes them on your thigh, before sighing. Your eyes crack open at the lack of touch. His long black hair falls down over his shoulders, as he holds himself above you— and stares at you for a moment too long. One where he seems to consider your feelings at least a little, for once, brushing his clean thumb along your neck and shoulder. “I’m going back to the front soon. Do you know what that means?”

You’re not sure if it’s meant to be patronizing… but you don’t know. The wet, cold numbness that returns to your cunt is an unexpected unease. You wanted to stop. You did. But when he sits back on his heels and looks at you for a few seconds in abject silence, the distance feels too far. Geto comes back to you with a furrowed brow, before a line of kisses is pressed along your jaw and neck, where he takes a deep breath and makes your entire body purr. “Means you’ll be passed on to some other scum.” He almost growls when he says it, urges your one leg over his thigh to make room.

“I put in a good word that if I come back you’ll come back to me- but…” His sharp eyes find yours blown out and dark, as he pulls you closer to his hips and rolls himself against you. His hard cock- he’s always hard when you’re in his bed, bops as he grabs himself and pumps a few achingly slow strokes. A translucent drop of precum drops to your pussy, and he spits on his hand and your pussy for good measure. “I’ll be two months without this soft Omega cunt squeezing me to sleep.” As he groans and slides the flushed head of his cock against you, he presses his weight into you again. “Let me use you. Or see what fucking happens.”

The hearth burns at the far end of the pristine, wooden room. Enough to make your hands clammy, shifting yourself back and forth between both legs- before glancing up to Geto once more. He looks more pampered today. Standing straight with only his fingers looped loosely around your arm. For a split second you wonder if you’d be able to make it down the marble set of stairs and across the courtyard into the shallow bushes— but it’s only a moment. Not more than a brief hope that instantly gets snuffed out when the heavy doors slide open, and a deep grunt passes by you both.

Geto salutes, the man does not. He only clears his voice with a mix of impatience and -tobacco, probably, before motioning his head towards the desk. “Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” His voice is frighteningly low, more rumble and bass than anything else, and sets the hairs on your arms on end.

His half-lidded eyes flick from the man beside you, ever so swiftly to you, then back. Face blank, uncaring. You stumble when Geto takes a few steps forward, basically dragging you behind him towards the chairs. When he lets you go, he gives you a look, and so you sit. Hands folding in your lap to keep them from picking at the edges of your clothing.

Or lack thereof. There’s a clean gold plate with the name Shiu Kong engraved at the very front of the desk, staring back at you. Your Alpha doesn’t hesitate to sit down too. “Major General Kong, Sir. A pleasure as always. You’ve lost some weight?”

“Hardly,” the man shoots right back, unfazed. “You can lay off the flattering.”

Geto and the stranger seem to converse with their eyes for a moment, before your owner gets comfortable in the velvet chair beside you, and hangs his arms over the back with a slight smile. The other man doesn’t bother to sit in his own chair across from you, instead just bending to get out one of the no-doubt expensive cigarettes, and lighting it. The smoke travels in slow, winding circles up to the ceiling as he hums. “So, the Omega. Y’ want to buy her?”

“I’d like her returned to my possession with the least amount of scratches when I get back, Sir.”

“We’re in a war, Suguru.” The man takes a short puff of his cigarette again, before putting his foot onto the chair and leaning in just barely. Dark, grayish eyes narrow. “You can’t pick out playthings at your whim. We have rules about these sorts of things.” The ash goes into the overfull ashtray, before those irises find you where you’re still slumped in the too-big chair. Almost amused, he lets out a bit of air through his nose, before punctuating his words with another drag. “Higher ranks get first picks, but if you’re gone, you’ll have to share. She looks healthy, young. Girls like that go for a lot of money these days.”

“I understand, Sir.” Geto’s smile doesn’t slip though, not even when he takes one of your hands and pulls until you get up. With his prompting, you instead sit back down on his lap instead, and the noiret hooks his chin over your shoulder when he strokes your thigh. You duck your head in shame. “It’s just that- she’s more of an indoor pet. I’d like to keep it that way, if possible.” His other hand winds under your chin to nudge it back up into view, as you shiver. Watch the attention of the superior officer linger just a second on the way your shirt falls around your hips.

Geto’s. “You have a mansion not too far from the front, as I understand it? And due to surely unfortunate consequences, your last Omega… broke.” His voice gleams as he says the words, and they seem to wind like a coiled spring around your neck. “I’m more than willing to part with mine for a while, if I could have a guarantee she’d be close by. Used sparingly.” You don’t know enough about the army to know if Shiu Kong has the kind of strings that Geto’s presuming he has— but you don’t really dare complain. The silence drags; before it crumbles into pieces when a slight relaxation pulls at the older man’s lips, cocking his head.

“Have her stand.”

You do, spurred on by the quick pat to your thigh and a winning smile, eyes fluttering as you trace the patterns on the floor. As the presence of the older Alpha fills your senses and he circles around you too close, he smells of smoke and a deep, woody musk that could bring you to your knees if you weren’t so used to it by now. After a round where his finger patiently brushes past your most valued features, he takes your face into his palm and forces your eyes up. Until you can no longer ignore the handsome face ducking down to meet your gaze.

You whimper. Let your face get turned here and there before he takes the end of the cig from between his lips, and addresses you directly. “You got a name?”

“Y-yes.” You stumble out, basically whispering it when he stares like that. He doesn’t have a kind face like Geto does, you notice, more angular, stubbled, at least a decade older too. You find yourself reaching for Geto’s hand despite knowing better, if only to have something to cling to as you blink away nervous jitters, and excess tears that are always ready to spill. Your bare feet shuffle against the carpet below.

Whatever he sees staring back at him is enough for his fingers to drop to your collar, dragging it either side with a grunt. “It’s some skill to find an unmated, pretty, little Omega hidden from the commission, Lieutenant… One would almost call it suspicious.” There’s a hint of amusement, one he pushes out alongside the butt of the cig. As if he knows he’s in, Suguru stands from the chair to put a comforting hand on your back and rubs circles through the flimsy fabric of his oversized shirt, tucking his thumb into the loose boxers you’re wearing below.

“I just get lucky, Sir. Omega’s delivered to the commission lose their charm too quickly, s’all.”

Shiu’s eyes give you another slow up and down, then he clicks his tongue. “So, what do you want in return for this present?”

“Nothing at all, really.” The hand pulls you into his side to nuzzle along your neck for some extra show, where he nibbles at the sensitive spot— makes you whimper like a bitch in heat. It’s loud enough for the other man to eat you up whole with his eyes, puffing out his chest a little to push off the desk. The swift hand wrapped around you gives you an adoring squeeze, before Suguru pouts into your temple like he’s parting with a prized possession. “Just that I get her back once I’m done with my service at the front in a few months.”

“Done.” Shiu busies himself with the bottle of expensive looking liquor, before casting you another glance. “Dress her in some actual clothes though, will ya? She already attracts enough attention as is.”

You stare at the fogged-up window with your duvet tucked to your chest, and breathe a few shallow breaths. There’s soldiers running up and down the camp, tucking their caps low against the biting wind. You only bother to follow one of them with your eyes, light hair peeking out from under the hat as he runs his laps. Instead of lingering on the thought, you shiver when a heavy, muscular arm pulls you around your waist and down into the bed. Shiu’s quick to let out a grunt, before opening his eyes and hooking his chin over your shoulder to nose at your neck. “You’re goin’ into heat soon?”

You barely dare shift when his stubble tickles your throat, and a few rough kisses get placed right over your pulse. “Probably. I-I’ll- ah-” His hand wraps around the base of your neck as he starts sucking on the sore skin, where bruises still sit from yesterday. You’re not sure if it’s his hands wrapped around your neck that caused it, or the way he bullied his cock way too deep into your throat— but you’re so sore. “I’ll need heat blockers for a while.”

“Mh,” he smells like tobacco. And a heavy, manly musk that’s so overwhelmingly Alpha. It’s distracting. It melts your tongue to the bottom of your teeth. “No need. We’re far enough away here that they won’t smell you. Or if they do, they can’t do anything about it anyway.” You blank, only to mewl and curl away when his lips and tongue rakes over a particularly sore spot, making your toes curl.

“But- b-but I,” you stutter, and one hand comes up to protect your scent gland from him as he gets up onto one arm to get on top of you. You haven’t gone through a proper heat in forever. It wasn’t ever safe even with just Beta’s around— you barely even remember what it feels like. Only that it hurts so bad it could make you sick. “But I don’t want to go into heat. It hurts.”

Shiu stops his barrage on your neck to frown at you, as he nudges your legs aside for his own thick thighs. One eyebrow raises at you like you’re dumb. “It doesn’t hurt when I’m here to breed you full, little girl.” He scans your face as he keeps pushing your one knee to your chest, before his mouth flattens out. “You don’t know that? You’ve never had an Alpha cock in here during heat?” It’s embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing— the way he eyes you like you’re some sort of idiot. It’s not like you had the privilege of trying it out before all this, hiding like a mouse. “Aw, baby girl. You’re so sweet.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“Daddy’ll have to teach you.” His large hand forces it’s way between your legs to squeeze your cunt and make you squirm under him, before he finally sits back and pushes the covers off, revealing the battle-worn body. “But not right now. Get up and go wash. We’re having company over.”

Your mouth’s dry, so you swallow tightly. “Who?” Your legs still tingle even when he gets out of bed, a little numb, a little achy.

“A… friend, I guess.” He picks out one of the cigarettes on the side table after putting on a shirt, and plops it between his lips. “You won’t like him.”

With sweat rolling down your neck, you stumble across the steam-coated tiles and grab onto the sink. Shaking like you’re ill. You definitely feel that way. It makes your entire skin feel statically charged, and sore, and so painfully needy. As soon as you take another step, you almost immediately topple over, legs trembling despite yourself. There’s no better sign than the dry feeling in your throat, and the way a whimper threatens to escape you with every move.

So you do all you can, and start tearing up as you wrap a towel around yourself. Even your own innocent touch feels too much, and you hurry through the process to barely manage pulling on a top and some panties, before your body refuses to oblige. You want to cry. Why did this have to happen now? Why here? Shiu hasn’t been bad to you, but he also isn’t particularly gentle. You didn’t want to go through heat at all. “Mh-mn, need- agh.” You whine thoughtlessly, as you wobble to the door.

There’s a swell of voices from down the hall— talking that doesn’t last long before falling quiet as you make your way to the bed. You’re so hot that it’s hard to keep your eyes open, your thighs rubbing uncomfortably as you walk. Thick, almost sticky tears wobble on your waterline, and the heat in your stomach sinks right into your center the more of the room you take in. It’s not your fault - everywhere you look it stinks of Alpha musk. Thick and overpowering to your flighty brain, it makes you want to keel over onto fours. You really are just a bitch in heat, and that is embarrassing too.

Makes you want to curl up onto a solid chest and let yourself get bounced onto his cock like a ragdoll.

It takes so much of your effort to drag yourself to the pillowed surface that you fail to hear the steps coming closer, let alone control that you’re scenting up the entire top floor when you crawl in and your pussy starts clenching around nothing. You’re mewling faint nothings as you stuff your face into the blankets— and smell only him. Heavy on your wet tongue.

“Agh, I- Al-pha, I need- it hurts. It hurts, I want you~” With your chest to the bed and your legs raised up, you just feel like you need to— to get filled up to the brim to make this aching stop. “Mhmm-ugh, please, pleas- need you, Shiu~” Slick’s already coating your pussy enough to slip right in, wet like the spit in your mouth that gathers under your tongue. Your head’s so light. It’s spinning.

Then, a heavy palm strokes over your crown, and your noises explode.

“Ah, ah, agh, daddy, daddy.” The weight of the touch travels down your neck to grip you, and your body curls to raise your ass even further up in need of friction. “Daddy, please. I don’t want to~ T-told you I- need-ed blockers. Ah, ahh.” The low chuckle you get isn’t the one you expect, but you can’t open your eyes enough to see what’s going on.

“Bit friendly for a hello, isn’t it?” There’s a huge body that surrounds you when leaning over you, as lips travel down behind your ear. “S’cute though. That’s a pretty girl. Daddy’s here.” Rough hands push your hips down with one swift move, slipping two fingers under your panties to pull the fabric taut. The slick grinds the fabric uncomfortably to your cunt, but you can’t be still. “Already drenched through your clothes, pet.” You don’t mean to. You don’t, you’re so sorry. “Whining like a little baby, need to get filled up?”

“Only thinking with this pussy, right? This is why Omega’s don’t run anything…” The lips ghost over your scent glands, making you squirm with dripping anticipation, when he lets his tongue run over his teeth and then along your throat. The juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, untouched and open and soft. He groans. “Ugh, fuckin’ hell, you’re so sweet. Your scent is almost making me sick.” One hand digs sharp nails into the meat of your ass, as the other reaches around to start pulling your camisole down over your sensitive tits. “Want some love from daddy, baby?”

A slightly raspier voice comes from somewhere behind you and drowns out your own whining and mewling. “I thought I told you to wait, Fushiguro.”

“Your pet was crying, Kong.” He rakes his teeth over that one spot again until you can’t stand it anymore, and your tears start dripping into the blankets. You push your chest out until his warm palm reaches around and squeezes, rubbing a thumb over your nipples. “Plus, just smell her. She’s scenting up the whole house. I wanted to come help.” After a long pause where you’re fighting the need to rub yourself on anything cock shaped like an animal— you’re turned over by a sturdy yank on your shoulder, and long fingers slide into your messy, drool filled mouth to press on your tongue.

Its Shiu, whose normally stern brow now is arched in amusement. The man on the bed with you moves away just enough to let you take a look, and take in the messy dark hair and almost metallic blue eyes, scarred face and dog tags hanging from his neck as he rolls onto his side. Shiu pinches your tongue to make you squeak, then leans in. “See you’ve already made introductions.” You mumble a pathetic ‘daddy’ under his sharp gaze, before he takes a deep breath.

“Poor girl, already going into heat? You didn’t last long. Needy, little pussy’s throbbing, isn’t it?” He pulls the top fully down until it’s hooked under your tits, then hums. “Look so cute when you’re begging to get fucked.”

“Gonna let me have a turn too?” Fushiguro rights himself onto one forearm, then pushes a finger down on your forehead until it's tilted all the way back and you’re looking up at him again. He’s got a mean sort of look in his eyes, right before his lips twitch when you groan softly at the touch. You literally can’t help yourself. It hurts so good— good enough to make you want to wrap your legs around either of their hips and stay there. Aches.

Shiu’s voice resonates through your body when he moves to kneel down to your body and starts kissing from your belly up, making you twitch. His gravelly hum reverberates in your clit, as your legs get spread over each shoulder when he comes up. “She’s not mine to give away Toji, so- ugh- restrain yourself a little.” His big hands smooth over your tits instead of squeezing you like you want, until you really start worming around under their touches.

“Mh~ hurry up!”

It’s out before you know it, and the backlash rushes straight to your cheeks in heat, burning up on your face. Fushiguro groans though, long and deep- before he pushes off the bed to get onto his knees, and grabs himself through the awfully casual clothing. His hand wraps around the large, large cock pressing against the fabric— and when you open your mouth and basically salivate at the sight- he lets out a lightly pinched chuckle. “Oh, you don’t wanna be doing all that, pet. You’ve got days of heat ahead of you— and you’re getting me hard as a motherfucker.”

All it’s doing is making you so horny you can barely see straight, and each inch of your body surges with electricity. You need something inside you. Now. Now, now, now. He runs a distracted hand through his messy fringe, and rolls his hips into his hand with a groan. “What’s it gonna be, Kong? If you take her underwear off I’m not leaving. Sweet, little thing like that…” Your legs are up by his ears when the familiar giant sits up onto the bed too, and your hand reaches for his to pull him closer by his thumb. “Haven’t had a greedy, fertile little Omega pussy in a while- the Commission always bitches I have too much fun.”

A hesitant furrow worms itself between Shiu’s brows for a bit, before he sighs. “Can’t bite ‘er, she’s not mine. I’m just keeping her.” His eyes are more blown out than normal, dark ring of black taking over the longer he touches you. You’re sure you’re similarly spent when you moan his name and he groans. “Fuck, baby. Want this Alpha cock in here?” His large hand smoothed over the supple skin of your lower belly, when you wiggle yourself against him, basically grinding onto his leg. “Needy, huh.” He licks his lips. “Fine, join. Can count us even after that.”

At that the other noiret grins, and pulls his shirt over his head in one swift move of agreement. Shiu’s hands already roam back over every bit of exposed skin. “And I get first turns.” The large fingers mindlessly playing with your nipple pinches you, when grayish eyes find you beneath him. “Get up.” With just a quick motion, you force your sluggish body up and onto fours— and fight the urge to force your head down yet again. That’s what would feel right.

“That-” Shiu’s hard too, you notice quite happily, when you grind back against him to find another thick, heavy bulge in his pants that heats your cunt. “That’s it.” You mewl, have no choice to. As you look back over your shoulder, he takes a moment to study you where you’re so much smaller beneath him. Omega’s always are, but these two are big even among other Alpha’s— more slick sticks your panties to the shape of your cunny. Your body’s entirely sticky with sweat, neck and throat aching and radiating heat all over you.

Your tongue melts in your mouth, when you look back and Fushiguro’s stripped down entirely— shredded body towering over you as well. He squeezes a rough ring around the flushed, pulsing head of his cock. “Uh, ugh-ah, daddy, daddy, daddy- Please? Please.”

“Who are you calling daddy?” The general asks sternly, but there’s no malice there. He’s amused as he peels the panties over the curve of your ass and down ever so slowly, letting your wet folds drip all over his fingers as he plays around in them. The touch makes you stagger forward, arms almost giving in— and you whine something unintelligible into the covers. “Fu~ck, you smell so sweet. Little Omega bitch in heat- ugh.”

A heavy hand lands on the swell of your ass, and stings so bad. With another spank your pussy clenches around nothing, and by the third you’re basically begging and your cunny’s sucking his fingers in. “A-daddy, please. Hurts. Uh-pu-lease. Need Alpha inside. Quickly, please. I-it hurts.” Another hand pets your crown for a few seconds, before he grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head up. Your mouth hangs open, and your tongue drops out at the sight of the hard, veiny cock before you.

It’s flushed a sweet sort of pink, nothing like you can already tell Fushiguro is— but drool still gathers in globs, looking at the precum glistening on him. “Gonna open your pretty, little mouth wide for me, pet?” As he strokes himself, the man behind you starts toying his fingers around your holes, and smears your slick all over until you’re entirely sloppy. Then chuckles, throwing his head back with a grunt.

“Fuck, forgot how hard I get- with Omega’s.” The slick sounds of your pussy, and both men's hands stroking their swollen cocks makes everything so loud. Wet and needy and animalistic— your own whining drowning out your thoughts. You just want more. More touch, please. Shiu spits onto your holes without hesitation and slaps his thick, hot cockhead against you a few times, before placing one hand on the middle of your back to force you in place. “Don’t run away from me- jus-t take it.”

“O-oh-fu-ugh.” He pushes inside with more of his weight, thick thighs pressing up against the inside of yours when you spread wider, and almost get pushed over. If not for Toji holding you up and rubbing himself along your cheek and lips too, impatiently stroking himself.

The head’s already big, stings on the way in. Enough to hurt, enough to make you tear up. He’s just so thick and glowing hot to the touch— basically pulsing inside you. You can feel his heartbeat through the skin as the head pops in with a lot of pressure. Your throat starts making noises despite you. “A-agh, ugh agh, da-I- ca— um-hnggg.”

“My turn,” Toji grunts after a bit, hooking a finger in your cheek to open your mouth more and coach your tongue out. “That’s- a good cockslut— open wide.” You do, letting spit drip as you relax your jaw and wrap your lips around him, filling up your mouth too much. You’ve never been so needy. The choking and the taste only make your eyes want to roll back in your skull, giving yourself over to them. You don’t want to do anything except give yourself over, struggling to make enough space between your legs to allow Shiu closer.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby, uhh-fuck.”

He’s still going slow, necessity, as each inch of his fat cock gets stuffed inside you, using his fingers to push more into your comparatively tiny cunt— and each bit deeper he goes, the more you feel like melting. It hurts, hurts and aches and bulges your stomach; and Fushiguro pushes deeper and bulges your throat- and it hurts- It does. But you can’t stop. You reach your arms out to wrap around the man’s glutes and pull him closer into your face, drool dripping down your chin. “Mh-mhm mhhuh.”

With his tongue trapped between his teeth, he grins. “Hah, you’re talking a lot for someone with their mouth stuffed— Does that feel good? You like choking on Alpha cock?” Your teary eyes try to focus on him, but you can’t, just cling on harder as the cock inside you kisses your cervix and he’s still not done. It aches so much, stretching you much wider than you’re meant to go. But it does, it does, it does. You don’t want to stop. “A little longer, that’s it, a little more~”

Instead you try to hollow your cheeks around him as he sits too deep in your throat, and fight the urge to squirm when your breath starts to pinch. Your body worms, you cry around them, and slick drips down your thighs like syrup. When Shiu bottoms out, it actually makes you gag, feeling so full and spent— and you squirm as Fushiguro keeps you. “Mh-hh- hck.” Your mouth aches as your lungs start to scream, and vision goes blurry.

Shiu pulls back before the other man does, groaning at the sight of sloppy, milky slick coating his cock, then slides back into your warmth just as fast, forcing your body to stretch again to make room. T-too big. “Let her- hh- up, she’s turning blue.” As you’re basically about to pass out, you get pulled off of him and gag violently, before taking sniveling, painful breaths again. You barely get the chance to breathe before your chin is lifted again, and he tilts your face left and right.

Your mouth drops open again, and tongue squirms around nothing. “More? You want more, greedy slut?” He smiles again, but more genuinely impressed this time— and hums. “Such a good, little Omega.” You can’t help it, you shiver and moan when he lets you back at his cock. And Shiu pulls back again only to fuck back into you, forcing you open as he builds a rhythm.

“She liked that one. She’s trying to clench my dick off.” He moans, and his unoccupied hand swipes some wetness dripping down your leg to circle it around your puckered hole instead. “You think she can take two?”

The cock gets stuffed back into your throat, but he pulls back faster now, instead using your head to fuck himself into you as he groans. “‘Nuh uh, she can’t. She’s too tiny— L-ook, you’re already -fuck- bulgin’ er.” He watches your lips struggle to wrap around him as he fucks your throat— only stopping for a moment to wipe some of the spit off your face. “She likes it so much though, look at that. You’re just a dumb, cocksleeve bitch, right? Want Alpha cocks to fill you?”

You can’t answer. Your brain’s all scrambled from the heat, a cloudy, pillowy feeling sitting over everything else. It feels so, so good. Being stretched to your limit, getting used. Your pussy clenches uselessly around the too-big invasion, getting bounced against Shiu’s thighs with a noisy ‘pap, pap, pap’. If you could think, you’d agree though. The pressure of his cock grinding into your sensitive insides, basically lifting you off your knees as he grabs your hips to jackhammer into you deeper, it’s all too much.

“Close?”

You’re drowning in your own arousal. After a few more seconds of getting used for all your worth, the expanding, pulsing pressure in your stomach grows too tight— and your toes curl uselessly as you cum without warning. It shatters inside you as you fail to clench around the thick length in you, instead dropping though your arms as you pull off of the cock in your throat to tremble through your orgasm. “Ah-hgh- ugh ah da-Alpha, Alpha, ahh ah agh! St-hngh~” You cry. Thick tears, spit and snot get wiped into the covers as you try to catch your breath, while still being fucked into.

You can’t stop shaking. Even then, Shiu’s cock keeps forcing the head against your cervix and making your eyes bulge. “Oh fuck, fuck- too tight— shit, I was this close, hah.” When he slips out for a second, you collapse entirely, aching immediately at the emptiness inside you. Your tits are sores, but everything else is burning so hot you feel like you might go up in flames.

It’s Fushiguro who picks you up by your arms and pulls you into his chest after a while, holding your pathetic, naked body like a ragdoll. “So cute now that you’re all flushed, cumming like that. But you’re not done, are you?” His fingers squeeze either side of your cheeks to bring your mouth to his, kissing on you until you respond and let his tongue melt against yours.

Your head’s still spinning, but a different kind of heat grows now in the base of your neck, desperate and needy. Your hand reaches to get more, more skin, pulling at the short hair at the back of his head- you moan into the kiss. Tongues and spit mixing as it slides down your throat and he towers over you, cock bouncing against your stomach. When he pulls back, long lashes brush yours, and you whimper when the touch goes.

Shiu’s staring. You can’t tell what expression he has, but it’s enough to make Fushiguro frown and lift his lip. “Fuck off. I get protective when they whine like that, s’all. She’s sweet when she’s cryin’ all baby like.” He instead focuses on pinching and toying with your puffy nipples, rubbing each side with rough fingertips, then hooks his chin over your head to look past you. “Wanna try the two of us at once?”

Instinct gets the better of you, and you’re already nodding against his pecs before you can think. “Two, two- w-want, please. Mhm, want Alphas.” It makes both men laugh, hands sliding all over you as you stick your ass out and Shiu spits on his hand. His cock’s still coated with wet, a white, creamy layer around the base of his cock as he strokes the head a few times. You’re seeing double, and your tongue feels like molten candy. But still you keep drooling and nodding. “Want, want you, wanna have- m-more, please.”

He then grabs your hips to yank you back against his hips, letting his cock push on your ass as his wet fingers curl inside your puckered hole, and stretch it out with two fingers. “She’s already fucked out of her mind, poor thing.”

“Mhm, agh- Alp- daddy, daddy— s’ sensitive- please, please, please~”

Fushiguro’s face blanks, before he takes a deep breath and groans low and gravelly, and grabs you by the neck. “Ugh, she’s- her scent is everywhere. Little bitch in heat moaning like it’s her job.” He buries his nose right where the most sensitive, burning part of your neck is, making you crumple, and kissing along the shell of his ear where you can reach. The fingers inside you, the pressure and heat of the two cocks against you— everything’s making you crazy. You’re losing your mind, trying to hang on to him as he licks over the glands. “Want daddy, baby?”

Your head bobs like it’s disconnected from your longing, arching body. And you almost cum again on the spot when sharp canines drag over that spot. You just might.

A low growling sound makes you open your eyes. Shiu’s hand is between the face and your neck, much to the other man’s dismay. “I told you not to bite ‘er. Don’t care how much she begs- she’s not ours to bite.” There’s a moment of silence between them, before Fushiguro sucks his teeth in annoyance, before grabbing his cock instead.

“She is mine.” His large hand wraps around your arm, and pulls— but your other shoulder is still clamped in Shiu’s palm. Almost painfully tight, as a muscle twitches in his jaw. And the tension between them is making you clam up, but your body’s still aching too hard.

“Share, please,” you sweeten your voice as you press your lips to Shiu’s knuckles, then present yourself a little more and shake your ass against him. “Please, daddy? Want to be full.” It doesn’t take long for that same flush to travel back up his chest and cheeks, and his irises to get wider and darker again. “Full of Alpha cum, t-take all of you.” It’s with that that he wraps an arm around you entirely and pulls you up against his chest, placing his cock between your legs as he lifts your knees. “Ack- agh.” You mewl, and Fushiguro leans in for another kiss.

Briefer, but no less messy.

Shiu’s quick to press his own kisses to your throat, letting his stubble rub over your scent glands— with your pussy clenching in response. He rolls his hips against you a few times, then lines up with your ass as he groans. “Hold her legs.” You take a deep breath, and close your eyes as the cock presses to your ass, slick enough to push in with minimal effort. “Uhuh, there’s a good Omega.” As he does though, the space in your body is so full, you’re struggling to breathe. It aches enough to make you wilt and bloom all at once.

And then Fushiguro takes over on your pussy, and you cry out. Your hot cheeks are coated with tears, and your clit thumps with all the blood. It’s too much. You can feel both of them slide into you with painful precision, wetness spilling all over as you break out in cold sweats. But it- it feels so good. Fushiguro slips in a few inches at once, making your legs shake— before you dig your nails into his shoulder and your vision goes black. “Oh- fuck-f-fuck, cu-mming~ Agh- uhh nghn, oh god.”

The two men slide you down until you’re so full it feels like your insides are moved aside to make room. Like you’re about to tear in two, squished between two hot, solid bodies. Before Shiu groans into your hair, and lifts you up to slide you back down. And again, and again. Bounced on the two of them while slick drips out of you, and you’re creaming around them both. “That’s a- ugh- pretty girl.” Your orgasm barely pitters out before you’re cumming again, and you’re getting kissed on as you’re crying.

Not a single thought makes it though you. You’re clinging on for dear life. Only the heat between the three of you as you melt into a puddle.

You’re fucked until you can’t even feel your legs, let alone hear how you’re mewling and crying— like you might dissolve. But you do feel it when a tongue laves over your neck, and the cock pulsing inside you starts jack-hammering into you harder than before. Everything feels so- good- that you’re probably drawing blood into his shoulders, and the tongue becomes teeth. One second you’re floating, and the next the pressure grows too much— teeth break skin, and your pleasure becomes mind-numbing.

Fushiguro’s teeth sink into your shoulder deeper as he breathes you in, fucks his cock into your guts with the intent to stay. And the other man grunts, squeezing you tighter. But without thinking, he follows suit to bite down on the other side of your neck, letting you shake through yet another orgasm when the hot blood runs down your collar. You’re entirely spent, so there’s not one part of you that still feels the way Shiu speeds up inside your ass, before groaning out your name as he licks along the wound.

“Fuck, gonna- knot my girl. Fuck- ugh, ughuh— my baby, mine. Mine.”

It feels like you’re stuffed further than you ever thought possible, face dropping into Fushiguro’s chest when they slow down, and ropes of hot cum drip out of you despite the knots. Wasting it in a way that you’d savor, if you had any energy left. Instead you can only barely breathe, and rub your nose into your Alpha’s chest. It feels good. You wanna go again.

“Uh— my bad. I got carried away.” One of them sighs after a while, the rumbling of his voice rocking you to sleep.

“Yea…” The other responds, only the slightest bit guilty. “…Guess Suguru will have to learn how to share.” His large hand smoothes over your cheek, before stubble and soft lips kiss over the mark he’s made.

“But I don’t think I wanna share.”

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