#I don't want to say it explicitly until it happens
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i hate when people portray michael and/or patrick as some kind of master manipulator who was terrible to shaun and stormy. like, in the past, michael sometimes got portrayed with little autonomy, or as childish and overly innocent in a weird way. that in itself is an issue with the treatment of mentally ill characters (infantilization), but the solution isn't to argue that he's actually a monster who only wanted to hurt and mislead people. the same goes for patrick. i don't enjoy the "goofy flirty mass murderer" interpretation for very similar reasons, because in the canon patrick did indeed do some wild shit but i think it's a stretch to say it was out of malice, except maybe towards eric lol
obviously there will be different views of these characters and this isn't meant to be gatekeep-y or anything, i'm just concerned with how certain portrayals can quickly slide into negative biases towards mental illness. i think if you're going on this route you might want to ask yourself why, and consider how it could make the mentally ill people within the fandom feel when they see their own symptoms portrayed by their peers as synonymous with being dishonest or manipulative
#og#not putting this in the tags because i'm kinda just spilling my thoughts onto a post#i just saw something about michael on another site and it really rubbed me the wrong way#i know a lot of this came from habit saying all that shit in GOODBYE to shaun#i just dont understand why people think habit was telling the truth#he did explicitly say he wanted to break shaun after all. and we all know how Honest And Reliable he was with vinny#like. in the series nothing points to michael being the secret cause of everyone's woes. i would argue it was implying otherwise#and i feel... sad that i sometimes see him being blindly characterized as a complete asshole or as Super Manipulative#like... i had to deal with most people in the fandom hating shaun not that long ago until it started to change for some reason#and frankly? id really rather not watch that same bullshit happen to poor michael. the guy was just trying his best....#i sometimes see this sort of thing from people who really like shaun and i just wanna say#you don't have to twist everything michael did into some terrible action just because you feel bad for shaun#like for starters there's plenty of times where they're both wrong. or miscommunicate. or where ones right but says it in a terrible way#and it's also like. yeah michael fucked up sometimes but you'd have to be high to think the same isn't true of them all#idk. im rambling and idk how to end these tags. ummmm. yeag
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I really want a scene like this in tsc2 where Neil seems to call Jean more often to check up on him and the floozies are perplexed "Why is Josten calling you?" "You guys close or sth?" "You still haven't told us what happened when he whisked you away" "we are worried sick Jean, how can you keep us in the dark?" And then Cat will say sth like "are you not sharing what you're talking to Josten about cause you're embarrassed?" Jeremy being a worried mother hen "is he bothering you?" And Jean keeps shutting everything down telling them not to worry, and then Laila as a joke says "is he flirting with you?"
And Jean responds with "I hope not. I don't think his boyfriend would take it well"
Everyone immediately stops what they are doing. "Im sorry, his WHAT?"
All hell breaks lose. Cat is shaking Laila "Josten is FRUITY?!", Jeremy is like "He has a boyfriend?" Laila being like "in the year that he joined the foxes and almost died in the hands of his serial killer dad, he got a boyfriend??? How???" And then Cat and Laila start asking questions, Jeremy trying to calm them down but also being curious, Jean is like "Well he's not told me explicitly, but it's obvious."
Jeremy having an epiphany "oh my god. Is it Kevin?" Cat in the background "oh please let it be Kevin" Jean says no, "Kevin is too much of a coward", the floozies are looking at each other like "oh we are definitely unpacking THAT at some point". And then they're like okay, well maybe the boyfriend is not on the team. But Jean confirms, it's a fox, i can tell u who it is-' "NO! We need to figure this one out!" "Let our gaydar do the work Jean we got things to prove!" Jean tiredly: "to who?"
So they start guessing, oh Hemmick is undeniably fruity, Jean is like "I don't even know who that is. Oh, backliner? No, not him". "Maybe it's Boyd?!" Cat being like "Escandalo! Cause he's with the captain right? Wilds?" Laila commenting "He'd be out of his mind to pass on that, and this is the educated opinion of a lesbian", Jean is like "how come u guys know all their names?" Jeremy says "they are a small team and it's hard not to keep tabs on them when they are in the news cycle every week or so"
"Guys we're losing track, keep your heads locked in! Who could be Josten's boyfriend, that tonight's pressing question!" "But there's no one else... wait, is he with the other backliner? Short blonde?" "I'm gonna be honest, I don't get queer vibes from him" "Lol can u imagine it's actually the goalkeeper twin" "what the one that went to juvie and looks like hes one step away from biting our heads off on the court? Nahh". Jean looks at an invisible camera like he's in the office.
And then something happens and they forget about it, until like the winter banquet or some shit and Cat is intently looking at Neil trying to decipher who his boyfriend could be, maybe he is in a throuple with Wilds and Boyd? Jean is like "Why are you looking at the foxes' table so intently?" "It's investigative work, don't worry about it" and then Neil comes over and takes Jean away at the open bar to talk about sth, the floozies are pretending to not be looking at them. Neil notices and he's like "I see they taken claim already." Jean responds with "It's not what u think" and they talk, Andrew probably gets bored at some point and goes to Neil, puts a single hand on his lower back and Jean being able to hear commotion in the Trojans table turns to see them acting like "normal", except their poses look rehearsed, there's drinks that have been spilled on the table and Cat is drinking from an empty glass looking at the sky.
#aftg#all for the game#just a silly one#neil josten#andrew minyard#andreil#the sunshine court#jean moreau#tsc#laila dermott#catalina alvarez#jeremy knox#the trojans#the foxes#the golden raven#tsc2#tgr
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 34: The Whole Truth
Summary: In life, we will be confronted with difficult choices. Sometimes you won't know you've made the wrong choice until it's too late
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 12,900 words
Warnings: Dead dove: do not eat, Angst, graphic violence and torture, mentions of predatory behavior towards a minor, Phillip Graves is a major creep, lots blood and injuries, kidnapping and its aftermath, hostage situations, anxiety and panic attacks, language, very explicitly described torture, ‘mega gets hit a lot, choking, biting, ‘mega gets stabbed with an ice pick, author can’t write COD missions, vomiting, lots of heavy emotions, detailed descriptions of pain, guns, background character dies on screen, descriptions of guilt and grief, lots of POV changes, some descriptive language of gore and blood at the end, rehashing of ‘mega’s injuries from the last chapter, a lot of angst and very heavy content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe
A/N: This chapter deals with some pretty heavy content. Please, please, please read and heed the warnings. I have included content warnings for the more graphic parts before they happen, so if you don't want to read those, you can skip ahead to the next part. I suggest taking breaks if you need to, read it in installments if necessary. And I cannot stress it enough, please heed the warnings.
11/30/24 **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
“Hi darlin’.” His grin widens like he’s happy to see you. “Been a long time.”
You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, your brain still sluggish. You feel sick as you try to process, try to figure out why and how. You try to move your arms again, but your wrists are stuck, hands burning as you pull. You desperately want them free, desperately need them free.
“Easy,” Phil says, putting his hands on yours, pushing them flat against the arms of the chair. They’re warm and calloused, the same hand that had been on your face a few moments ago. “You’re gonna hurt yourself. More than you already have been.” He lifts your left leg, making you groan quietly as a deep ache throbs down to your foot and up to your hip.
Running. A gunshot. Pain.
“He had strict orders not to harm you.” Phil says, adjusting the bandage wrapped around your calf. “Don’t worry. We got you all fixed up.” He sets your leg back down gingerly, his touch lingering for a moment before he looks back up at you.
“Why?” You croak out, trying to make sense of what happened.
Corporal McKinney broke into the barracks and chased you into the woods. He shot you and drugged you and now you’re here, restrained in a chair staring at a man you haven’t seen for years. A man who was once your dad’s best friend.
“A lot has happened since we saw each other last.” He says, pushing himself to stand. “I left the Marines after a few years, formed my own group of military contractors. Invited your dad to join, but you know how he is. All honor and duty and serving the country. Of course, you haven’t seen him in quite a while, have you?”
You stare up at him, starting to get scared. You never liked Phil. There was always something about him that put you off. He always stared too long, always sat too close to you. He always greeted you with a hug that lasted too long, squeezing you too tightly against him. He was sweet on you in a way he wasn’t with anyone else. He could be intense, brash and almost downright rude sometimes. He was a firm believer in traditional packs too, even if he never spoke about his own pack, his own omega. He had to have one, if he was as dedicated as he said.
He was far too much like your father.
Phil was always kinder to you, though. Softer. Not quite as callous and bellicose as your father in public. He was polite, always happy to lend a hand, always glad to roughhouse with your brothers to get their energy out. You saw the way your mother looked at him though. Perhaps her apprehension bled into you, those dormant omega instincts picking up on something she was projecting.
He made you uncomfortable, and she knew it.
What could an omega do, though, in a world where they don’t have opinions, they can’t argue, they can’t disagree. Your mother never said anything because in the world your family existed in, the world Phil existed in, she couldn’t.
“He was so angry when he called.” Phil continues, staring down at you. “Ranting and raving about how his oldest daughter betrayed him by presenting as an omega. He couldn’t stand having such a useless child in his perfect pack.” You flinch at his words, even though you heard your father spew those very words after your presentation firsthand.
“He called you?” You ask, the pieces starting to come together as your brain finally snaps fully into awareness. You knew he called someone, but you hadn’t thought it would ever be Phil.
“Of course.” Phil chuckles. “We were good friends, pals, buddies. He knew I could help him.” A shiver runs down your spine. You know what he’s going to say next. “So I did. I have some contacts in some high places, people who owe me favors. So I made some calls, pulled some strings, got you into FIOT immediately, with some strings attached of course.” He leans down so you’re almost face to face. “I wanted you. They put a note in your file. You wouldn’t be placed in the registry when you were old enough, you would go to me and my pack.”
Bile churns in your stomach as you process his words. It all makes sense now. The stares, the hugs, the closeness with your father, your rapid enrollment in an institute that can take weeks to process applications. It was all so you could be his. Something he’s wanted from early on.
“You would have been mine,” He pushes himself up straight again, starting to pace back and forth in front of you. “If the fucking CIA hadn’t gotten involved!” You flinch as his voice raises, the frustration starting to darken his scent. “They froze your file, made the claim null and void. All for what, their little initiative that never really existed in the first place?” He huffs out a laugh, a smirk tilting his lips. “Small world, though. Who knew we’d be seeing each other again after so long.”
He steps closer, looking down at you. You hold his gaze, suddenly feeling afraid. Even though you know him, even though you spent a good part of your childhood around him, you’re afraid of him right now. Your mind starts to revert back, the urge to lower your eyes, break eye contact like you’re supposed to flashing through your mind.
Don’t stare alphas in the eyes. They’ll take that as a challenge. It’s not your job to challenge them. Your job is to be subservient.
You would have been subservient to him if the CIA hadn’t gotten involved. You would have been under his control, bowing to him and his will. You’d have pups by now, at least one. He’d always talked about having a big pack with lots of pups someday, always glancing at you when he said it.
You’re going to vomit all over him.
It’s not just the truth that scares you, though. You’re being held captive here. That thought has registered in your mind now, the reality settling in as you get over the shock of the last few minutes. Corporal McKinney kidnapped you from base, and now you’re restrained in a chair surrounded by unknown alphas. Phil isn’t going to help you, take pity on you. He’s not here to be nice, to have a little chat and catch up on life.
That possibly ended as soon as he was denied what he wanted.
His hand cups your chin, holding your face up as he looks down at you. His thumb is rough as it strokes your jaw, a tickling feeling starting in the back of your mind again. There’s an almost bittersweet look in his eyes as he holds your gaze. You refuse to lower it, refuse to give him that satisfaction. “You’ve grown up a lot.” He says, his hand sliding down your neck to the collar of your shirt. “You always were cute, though. I knew early on you were going to be an omega. You were far too...calm and compliant compared to your brothers. Always so polite and eager to please. You can tell if you pay attention, you know. Those dormant instincts start to show themselves long before presentation.”
His hand pulls your collar to the side, revealing your mark. His eyes harden as he stares at it, his lips turning down into a frown. A shiver runs down your spine as the darkness in his scent intensifies. He’s not holding you hostage just to tell you about what could have been, what direction your life might have taken. He’s here for a reason, and you know your pack is involved. Something has happened, something behind the scenes, something John was looking into.
“What’s going on?” You ask as he releases your collar, taking a step back.
“Well, you’re being held hostage.” He says, like it isn’t already obvious. “You’re...shall we say...leverage to ensure your pack follows orders.”
You blink at him. You haven’t heard from or spoken to your pack in weeks. You should be relieved that they’re apparently still alive, but what if you had been right and they don’t want you anymore? Why would they take you if your pack has abandoned you? Or did they take you to ensure they wouldn’t...
“Laswell stuck her nose somewhere it shouldn’t have been.” Phil says, crossing his arms. “It’s only so long before your pack finds out. Let’s just say...they’re not going to be happy about it. So, to ensure they don’t do something impulsive and reckless as they are known to do, you’re going to play hostage.”
You gulp as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling very afraid. Your scent spikes in the air, clouding it with the bitter scent of anxiety. It was the plan all along. You knew it even if you hadn’t been told outright. Deep down you’ve always known it wasn’t about strengthening packs. It wasn’t about studying how an omega would increase or decrease the efficiency of military packs. With the events of the last few months, the idea had started to form in your mind. You know you weren’t alone in those thoughts. John and Simon were digging into the cameras for a reason. They were put up for a reason.
It was always about control.
That was the point of the initiative. That was why they put cameras up, that was why General Shepherd was so invested in the state of your pack and if you had been mated. He needed to ensure you were close enough to them so if something happened that wasn’t supposed to, you could be used against them.
You’re nothing more than leverage.
Your scent spikes in the air, clouding the room as reality sinks into you. Something happened that caused this. Something called your pack away to isolate you, to leave you vulnerable. They wanted you alone as a contingency.
Something did happen.
Now you’re here, being held captive by a man you used to know, a man who could have been your alpha had things not played out the way they did. The thought has your stomach churning. How far will they go? How far will Phil take things? Could he be merciful because of your history? Or will his ruined plan make him more ruthless?
You’ll be punished for something you can’t control.
Phil makes a soft sound as he looks at you, shaking with fear in the chair. “Don’t be scared. As long as your pack does as they’re told, I won’t have to hurt you.” He turns the light back to face you, nearly blinding you. “Now, smile for the camera.”
They’re safe.
It had been close. A rough position to be in, but they managed it. He never doubted them and their abilities, but four against nearly fifty with no backup were not good odds. He’s been in tighter places before, and while he had his doubts, he is grateful Johnny and Simon were sent in when they were. Even if it was a bit suspicious.
“All accounted for.” John says as he sinks down onto one of the jump seats next to Kyle.
They’re all battered and bruised from their final fight. He’s ready to get home, ready to get back to you. From the sound of it, things were not going well, according to Johnny and Simon. He has a lot to make up for, a lot of apologies to make.
“Fucking Russian PMCs.” He says, speaking to Kate over the comms. “It’s not a coincidence Kate.”
Kate lets out a sigh that crackles through the comm. “No, it’s not. My team and I came across some information while we were digging into the cameras.”
“What information?” He asks slowly and carefully. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark, especially when it comes to his pack. Especially when it comes to you.
“Not just information on the initiative, but information on General Shepherd.”
“What information?” He asks again, slower this time as Johnny and Simon move in closer.
“Shepherd was the one that sold those weapons to AQ and the Russians.”
John looks at the other three members of his team. He knew something was wrong, something was off about the way Shepherd had acted while informing them about this mission. “He wanted those missiles found and destroyed so he could cover his own ass.” He says, his stomach starting to twist. He doesn’t like the way this is going.
“But we found out the truth before you could find all the missiles.” Kate continues. “He sent you on a wild goose chase to give himself a chance to escape.”
John’s hand tightens into a fist. “Where is he now?”
“He’s gone dark. Totally off radar.”
John pushes himself up to stand, the adrenaline pumping again. “I’m going to find that bastard-”
“John.” Kate says, cutting him off. “There’s something else.”
The twisting in his stomach intensifies. There’s a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to entertain the dark thoughts that are brewing. “What?”
“They took your omega.”
His stomach clenches, his breath catching in his lungs. The other three shift on their feet, all of them stepping closer. The scent in the plane thickens, anger and confusion mixing into a toxic cocktail. He hopes he heard that wrong, that there was some kind of interference in the connection and his brain made up the words he missed. “Repeat that.”
“They took your omega.” Kate says again.
He lets out a long breath, his muscles tensing. He’s had a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind for the last few days. Something was wrong, something was off. He should have known it was all a ruse. Why would AQ and the Russians store a missile in any of the places they had been sent to in the last week? It hadn’t made sense, and he had wanted to voice his doubts, but the consequences of a missile being launched because they decided not to look in one place was greater than his own perceived doubts.
They had been right though.
Of course it had all been a plan. Of course there had been something fishy about it. He’s hardly ever wrong. He’s been praised on his instincts on the field and off. He should have known. Pulling Simon and Johnny when they did should have been enough evidence, even if they had been needed in the end.
“You’re positive?” He knows she is. There’s no mistaking something like that, there’s no doubting it.
“There’s a video.” Kate says, John’s stomach dropping. “I’m sending it to you now.”
John pulls out his phone, his fingers white as he holds it up. He’s angry, beyond angry. If they’ve laid a hand on you...if you’ve been hurt because of his own failings, his own inability to see the truth...
He clicks on the video when it comes in, a familiar face popping up on screen. “Hi boys. Been a while.”
“Fucking Graves.” Johnny growls, his hands closing into fists in anger.
“I have a little something of yours I think you might be interested in.” He turns the camera around, your face popping up on screen. You’re restrained in a chair, wrists red from the zip ties, but there’s a glare on your face, looking as mean and threatening as you can. There’s a bruise on your cheek and what looks like a healing cut on your lip. Someone hit you.
“Smile for the camera.” Graves says, a bit too cheerfully.
You don’t smile, your glare sharpening as the camera gets closer to your face. There’s still fight left in you. Whatever has happened hasn’t been too bad. Yet.
“Let’s make this simple.” Graves says. “You stay away from Shepherd, and I won’t have to hurt this pretty little face. She is pretty, isn’t she?”
You shift in the chair, your leg lifting before you kick outward.
“Ow, you little bitch.” The camera jostles for a moment before it’s straightened back up, a hand shooting out to wrap around your throat. There’s no sign of any struggle, the glare still prominent on your face. “Feisty thing. Gotta keep up with those wild boys somehow.”
The hand tilts your face just slightly, showing the mark on your neck. It is you, not that John doubted that from the beginning. It may have been almost two months, but he wouldn’t forget your face that easily.
“Like I said,” Graves continues. “Follow your orders and she’ll be released unharmed.”
The screen goes dark and John resists the urge to throw his phone. He shoves it back into his pocket, turning towards the wall of the plane. He throws his fist against the metal as hard as he can. It hurts, but he can barely feel it over the rage burning hot in him.
“Fucking Shepherd!” He shouts, rearing back to throw his hand against the wall again.
Graves has his omega. Graves has his omega and now you’re being used as leverage. They’re all being played like puppets.
A hand catches his fist before he can punch the wall again, easing him back. “Easy.” Kyle says, trying to soothe him as best he can. “We have proof of life, we know that she’s alright for now.”
“For now.” He growls, looking around at the members of his team. “But for how long?”
“They knew we’d go after Shepherd as soon as we learned the truth.” Simon says. “This has been in the plans for a long time.”
“They’re trying to get us to make a choice. Focus on getting our omega back while letting Shepherd escape, or go after Shepherd and let our omega be tortured.” Kyle says.
“Those fuckin’ wankstains.” Johnny says, shifting on his feet. He’s angry, the bitter scent filling the enclosed area of the plane. They’re all angry, angry at those responsible, and angry at themselves for falling for it. “They were usin’ us the whole time.”
John lets out a long breath. He needs a clear head going forward. He needs to be able to beat them at their own game and cause the least amount of damage to you as possible. As much as going after Shepherd first is tempting, cut the head off the snake and end things before they get too far, he knows that won’t stop Graves. He’ll continue even after Shepherd is dead.
There might even be a second contingency. They kill Shepherd, you die too.
“John, we can’t leave her.” Kyle says, still holding his hand. His fingers are wrapped tight around his wrist, trying to ground him as best as he can in this tumultuous moment.
“The longer we wait, the worse things will get.” Simon says. “We go after Shepherd, we may never see her again.”
There won’t be anything to come back to.
He stares at his pack, all standing there, staring at him, waiting for him to make his decision. He’s their Captain, he’s their alpha. It is his decision in the end. He’s the one that they will follow, even if he makes the wrong decision. Even if he tears them apart in the end.
“Where is she?” John growls, into his comms.
“We’re working on decrypting the video now.” Kate replies.
“I need a location, Kate.” John says impatiently, heading towards the cockpit. For all he knows those flying the plane are in on it too.
“We’re doing the best we can with what we’ve got. You’ll be the first to know as soon as we find something.” Kate tried to placate him.
“I better be.” He growls.
Kate lets out a sigh as the comms close off. It’s not a captain she’s speaking to anymore, it’s an angry alpha. His pack, his omega is being threatened and now they all have to face the ramifications of it. She’s just as much a cog in this machine. She fell for this, she brought you into this, and now you might get hurt because of it. How she didn’t see the reality has shame burning through her. They were all blind, all led astray, all fooled by the red herring.
There was never an initiative. It was never about strengthening packs. It was always about control. They wanted a way to control packs. Shepherd knew if the secret ever came out, there would be no stopping the consequences. Legal or illegal, retribution would come for him if the truth was revealed.
This was his way of stopping it.
That's why the 141 were the guinea pigs.
They are the most dangerous threat to Shepherd, and he handed them a way to control them under the guise of strengthening packs, experimenting on how their dynamics and efficiency would shift with an omega added in. Even worse, they all fell for it.
Time is of the essence now. Graves won’t stop, even as word reaches Shepherd that they’re easing off of him. Her only hope is that Graves won’t kill you. That will give them nothing to live for, and it will make them more ruthless than they already are. They’ll go after Graves, and then they’ll turn their eyes to Shepherd.
No matter what you’ll always be a way to control them.
If she can find Graves, she can send out a team to get eyes on his location. That way, they’ll have a direction she can point them in, and they won’t be going in blindly. This is a delicate situation, and she can’t trust Graves to uphold his end of the deal in this. They’re not going after Shepherd, but will that stop Graves from hurting you just because he can?
There’s more to this than they’re letting on. She knows it, deep down. There’s something else, something even deeper below the surface.
She’s got a lot of work to do.
They’re going to need help.
Christine can’t sit still anymore. She can't take it. It’s been almost eighteen hours since your disappearance and there’s been nothing. No word, no news. She knows you’re alive. Kate had confirmed that, but that hasn’t eased the burning questions eating away at her mind. What is your current state? Who took you and why? Where is your pack and are they even aware of what’s happening?
She’s been sitting and twirling her thumbs. She can’t bring herself to do any paperwork, any research. What is there to do besides sit and worry? She doesn’t have a patient to take care of because she lost the one she was supposed to watch.
She huffs out a breath, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing Kate. If Kate won’t call, she’ll call herself. Kate’s probably busy though, so Christine can’t blame her too much for not calling. She’s probably so far from the front of Kate’s mind right now.
The phone rings twice before Kate answers, sounding tired and disheveled, just as much as Christine feels.
“Laswell.”
“Kate, I need to be there.” She doesn't hold back, doesn’t try to make small talk. There’s no time for it. She knows how Kate is doing, and it’s not great.
“Christine, I don’t know if I can take that risk.” She says.
“I need to be there. I can't take sitting around here anymore. When...” When not if. They will find you. She knows it. “When you find her, she’s going to need someone she knows there, someone that knows how to take care of her.” Christine lets out a breath, the relief of getting her thoughts out taking some of the weight off her shoulders.
Kate sighs, but she has to know Christine is right. She’s not sure what state you’re in, and depending on how bad it is, and where your pack is, you’re going to need her. Even if you think she was behind this. “I’ll have a plane ready to go in thirty minutes.”
“Thank you, Kate.” She says, letting out a sigh of relief.
“Don’t miss the flight.”
Christine hangs up, gathering a couple things from her office before closing and locking her door. She nearly runs to her barracks, packing a bag quickly. She’s not sure what to bring, or how long this will take. She’s not even sure exactly where she’s going.
She hurries to the airfield, phone in hand. She’s not sure where the plane is or which one she’s taking. She’s just relieved Kate is doing this for her.
Her phone buzzes as she reaches the tarmac, making her pause. She lets out an annoyed sigh before answering the call.
“Of course you have to call at the worst possible moment.” She says.
“I’ve always had the worst timing.” Alex’s voice comes through the speaker, and she can almost hear the smile on his face.
“I can’t talk long. I’m about to board a plane.” She says.
“I know. We’ll pick you up on the tarmac.”
She blinks in surprise. It’s been years since she’s seen her brother, months since she’s spoken with him. Ever since he retired from Delta Force, his regular calls have been happening less and less, and they’ve reached near radio silence over the last couple years. Now he’s involved in this too?
“Kate called in a favor.” He continues, and that’s all she needs to know. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Yeah.” She says, tears brimming in her eyes as she smiles. Despite everything, she’s glad she gets to see her brother again. Glad she has some support in this. Your pack will be mad. They’ll blame her. She’s not afraid of them, but she knows Alex will stand behind her no matter what. “See you then.”
**Content Warning: light torture, ‘mega gets punched, further injury to previous injuries, panic attack**
Your hands are starting to go numb. The constant attempts to free yourself from the zip ties isn’t helping, but you’re beginning to get twitchy. Your omega is scratching at the back of your mind, begging to be free, but you know you won’t survive it. The room is full of armed mercenaries, and you’re sure if you tried to take out Phil first, you’d be pumped full of bullets before you could even do any damage.
He’s leaning against the wall far too casually, staring at the phone he’d used to record the first video of you. His explanation had been simple. Your pack stops going after General Shepherd, you don’t get hurt. The longer they chase Shepherd, the more Phil gets to torture you until they decide your life is worth more than Shepherd’s.
Will they choose you over Shepherd? What if they’ve already decided to abandon you? What if your fears were right and they’ve given up, and that’s why they were gone so long? They won’t care what happens to you if they have written you off as a burden, as a loss. They’ll let Phil torture you to death and they won’t even blink an eye. You’ll just be another casualty.
It makes your stomach hurt, the idea of your pack letting you die. Even the idea of someone who had once been a friend of your family being so cold towards you has nausea bubbling in your belly. He doesn’t care. His only worry is money, not the past. He doesn’t care. He’ll do the bidding of whoever offers the highest price.
He lets out a sigh, pocketing his phone as he pushes himself off of the wall. “Looks like your boys don’t follow orders well.” He bends down, putting his hands on his knees so he’s face to face with you. “They’ve decided to leave you here with me. Looks like Shepherd was wrong. They don’t really care about you as much as everyone thought they did. Makes me sad, them abandoning you so easily.”
You try to ignore his words, try to convince yourself he’s doing it on purpose, trying to mentally break you. Yet you can’t deny those words play exactly into your doubts, your fears. Have they really left you here, choosing Shepherd over you? Would they decide to do that? How easy had that decision been made?
Tears blur your vision as you stare up at Phil, your eyes burning as you try to put on the bravest face you can. You won’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to you, playing into your fears.
“Unfortunately, that means I have to hurt you.” He stands up straight, staring down at you for a moment before pulling his fist back, hitting you across the face.
You see stars for a moment, your head snapping to the side. The left side of your face is numb, the taste of metal flooding over your tongue. You’re bleeding, blood pooling in your mouth. A hand grips your chin, pulling you back so you’re sitting up straight in the chair. You stare up at Phil, the fear fading away to anger as you glare up at him. Your face is throbbing, and you know it’s going to swell and bruise later, more than it already has thanks to Corporal McKinney.
Traitorous bastard.
They all are.
“I do feel bad for hurting that pretty face.” He says, stroking your jaw with his thumb.
The movement is impulsive, the anger becoming too much. You spit the blood in your mouth in his face, the droplets splattering across his skin. He turns his head away for a moment, bringing his other hand up to wipe at the blood.
“That wasn’t very nice.” He says, looking down at you.
“Fuck you, you fucking creep!” You yell, kicking at him with your bad leg.
He releases your face, catching your leg easily. He pushes his thumb against the bullet wound, all the fight leaving you as pain tears through your body. You let out a scream, trying to pull your leg away but he won’t let you. He holds his thumb there as you scream, the tears streaming down your face.
“Okay, okay please! Please stop!” You beg, the pain radiating up into your hip and side. You can’t take it anymore, your brain starting to go fuzzy as you hyperventilate.
He releases your leg, his hand wrapping around your throat to lift your face. The tears are streaming down your cheeks, mixing with the blood from the cut on your cheek. There’s no sympathy, not even regret in his eyes as he stares down at you.
“I don’t want to hurt you, but if you can’t behave, I’ll have to do just that.” He releases you as you continue to hyperventilate, your eyes starting to glaze. You’re distressing. Will Phil help you? Will he do what he has to do to keep you alive? If you die, there won’t be anything stopping your pack. The entire plan will be over. They’ll go after Shepherd, then they’ll hunt down Phil.
Cold ice water hits you in the face, shocking you back into clarity. Phil is holding the cup of water he’d been letting you drink from periodically. You blink at him as water drips into your eyes, your breaths hitching but far slower than they had been. You’re awake and aware now.
You didn’t even know it was possible to do that.
“Don’t distress on me now.” He says, putting the cup down. “We have so much ahead of us.” He moves around to the back of your chair, bending down until his breath hits your ear. “Besides, you make me help you out of distress, I might not be able to stop myself.”
Your eyes pinch closed as his lips brush the shell of your ear before he stands back up, tears mixing with the icy water still sliding down your face.
“Please tell me you have good news.” Kyle says as they stand around the table. John is still fuming, anger rolling off of him like it has been since they found out the news. He’s hanging onto the quickly fraying strings of control he still has on his alpha.
“We’ve narrowed down locations to the US.” Kate says, standing bravely before them. It’s not the first time she’s been before an angry alpha. It’s not the first time she’s been before an angry John.
“Damn it, Kate, we need a location.” John says, slamming his hands down on the table.
“We’re working on it as fast as we can.” Kate says, unflinching. “We’ve got limited people and resources now. We can’t trust just anyone anymore.”
John lets out a long breath as Kyle puts a hand on his chest. He’s tired. They can all see it in his face. He’s tired and angry and rapidly losing control.
Simon pushes Kyle to the side, blocking John’s view of anything but him. The big alpha puts his hands on John’s shoulders, looking him right in the eye. “You won’t do her any good by raging like this.” He says, his voice flat and calm. “You know these things don’t happen immediately. They’re underground for a reason and we just have to be patient.”
“She doesn’t have that kind of time.” John says loudly, but there’s a strain to his voice.
“It’s better to wait and have a direct location than to run around on a wild goose chase. That’s what they want. They want us angry and thinking on instinct.” He squeezes John’s rapidly drooping shoulders. “We all want her back, but we just have to trust Graves will keep his end of the deal.”
“She’s stronger than she looks.” Johnny says. “She’ll give ‘em hell.”
John runs a hand over his face as he begins to deflate. They’re right. It’s better to wait and know for sure than to waste time running around and exhausting themselves.
“Please tell me you have any news.” John says, moving back towards the table.
“I do.” Kate says. “I’ve called in some backup. They’ll be here shortly.”
Christine nearly runs down the ramp once the plane has stopped on the runway. She’s jet lagged and worn out after eight hours of worrying, but she’s eager not only to finally get some news on you and your status, but to see her brother for the first time in a long time.
It’s not hard to find him.
“Chrissy!” He grins, hugging her tightly.
She has half a mind to complain about the nickname she’d endured her entire childhood, but she can’t find it in her as she hugs her brother tightly. She’s missed him, more than she realized. Their jobs have kept them busy, her with her medical studies and practice, and Alex with...whatever it is he does.
“It’s been far too long.” She says, pulling away from him. She’d love to stand there and hug him for an hour, but she can’t. They have more important things to do. Time is of the essence, if her worst fears are true.
“A lot has happened, a lot has changed.” He says.
She looks him over, spotting the more noticeable changes in comparison to the last time they were face to face. “You could say that.”
“We can talk about it later.” He turns to the other person with him, a woman. “Christine, this is Farah.” He introduces her. “Farah, this is my baby sister Christine.”
“Nice to meet you.” Farah says, shaking her hand.
“You as well.” Christine looks between them for a moment. She knows that look in Alex’s eyes as he looks at Farah.
“We should get moving.” Farah says, ignoring him.
“Laswell has moved off the grid.” Alex says, opening the driver’s side of the SUV.
Smart, if things are as bad as she thinks they are.
Christine gets into the back, letting out a long breath. She’s closer now to finding out what’s happened to you. The guilt is still eating her alive. If she just hadn’t left, if she hadn’t believed the phone call, put it above your safety.
Things might have been worse if she had stayed.
“Kate filled us in about everything.” Alex says as he drives away from the airfield. “At least in regards to the pack and your involvement.”
“There’s some things she’s not telling us.” Farah says. “Though if things are as bad as they sound, I don’t blame her.”
“I don’t know much of anything.” Christine says, staring out the window as they drive out of the city. “I feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t left her alone...”
“It’s hardly your fault.” Alex says, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “If this was all planned, there wouldn’t have been anything that would stop it from happening.”
“They might have done worse if you had stayed there.” Farah says, speaking Christine’s own fears aloud.
“I wish I could see her. Make sure she’s alright.” Christine says. “If something happens to her...”
“From what I hear she’s a hardy omega.” Alex says, trying to comfort her. “She’s withstood a lot. She can survive the 141, she’s probably giving them hell as we speak.”
**Content Warnings: light torture, choking to the point of almost passing out, blood, very detailed descriptions of pain, non-fatal stabbing**
It’s getting hard to breathe. Phil’s grip around your throat is getting tighter and tighter, less and less oxygen getting to your bloodstream and your brain. Your mouth has an almost permanent metallic taste as blood drips down your chin. Blood stains Phil’s arm from where you bit him, teeth marks red and angry looking from where they broke the skin.
“You fucking bitch.” He growls, jaw clenched. “Your alpha should have taught you some manners.”
His hand squeezes tighter, cutting the air off entirely. You begin to panic, tugging against the restrains with your raw, cut up wrists. Black dots begin to dance in your vision, your legs straining against the zip ties keeping them attached to the chair. Your hands and feet are going numb, your entire body tingling. This is it. You’re going to be choked to death.
He holds his hand there for a moment, letting you struggle before he lets go and you suck in a gasp of air. You slump over in the chair, blood splattering on the floor as you cough, your throat raw and sore. Tears burn in your eyes as you heave, trying to get the oxygen flowing through your body again.
Phil bends down to your level as you sit there, head hanging as blood drips from your mouth. Your tongue is raw from how many times you’ve bitten it. It’s impossible to tell how much time has really passed. There’s no windows in the room. The only light source is the cracks around the door behind you. Even then with the bright light in your face constantly, it’s hard to tell anything anymore.
“Feisty still, but everyone has their limits.” His hand cups your chin as he stands, lifting your face to follow him. His hand holds the back of your head up as he wipes at the blood under your nose and on your chin almost gently.
Tears stream down your cheeks as you stare up at him, unable to even care anymore that his hand is so close to your neck. All he has to do is move it down just slightly and squeeze and you’ll be unaware of anything around you, at the mercy of his bidding.
That would almost be a relief.
He dumps another icy cup of water over your head, keeping you from slipping too much into a panic. The cold water stings the cut on your chest and the one on your arm as it slides down your shoulders. You’ve lost the ability to feel the throbbing in your calf, numb to most of the pain in your body.
Why haven’t they come for you? Where is your pack?
Have they written you off for good? Was finding Shepherd more important than you?
Phil’s phone goes off, your stomach dropping. He stares at the screen for a second before turning back to you.
You shake your head, the tears cascading down your cheeks. “No,” You start to shake. “No, please-”
“You know I have to, darlin’.” He moves behind you, tugging on your hair to keep your head up as one of his men stands in front of you with a phone in hand.
He counts down on his fingers before pressing record.
“Having fun yet?” Phil says as he reaches around your head, holding your chin in his hand. He tilts your head back making you look up at him. “We sure are. Aren’t we, darlin’? Tell them. Tell them how much fun we’re having.”
You’re still crying, unable to stop as you stare at the camera. They really have given up on you. They’ve deemed you unworthy of saving. They’ve let you sit here and be beat up and tortured all because they put the job first.
They really have given up on you.
Are they even watching?
“Please,” You croak out, half begging your pack to care, half begging Phil to have mercy.
“Since you can’t seem to bring yourselves to care about your own omega,” He shifts slightly, someone handing him something behind you. You catch a glint of metal, your heart rate picking up. You’re panicking, breaths coming in shaky gasps. You know he can do worse. He’s threatened worse, but what is he going to do? “It seems you need a little more...motivation.”
You try to wiggle out of his grasp in panic, wrists bleeding again from tugging at the zip ties. They’re coated in your blood, your leg throbbing but you don’t care. You need to get away, get free. “No, no-”
You let out a scream.
It’s sharp and piercing, but nowhere near the sharp pain in your neck. It fires through your very nerve endings, making you aware of the very cells in your body. It shoots up into your brain, igniting every neuron in your brain. Your very blood feels like it’s boiling, your skin on fire from the pain. Every inhale feels like you’re breathing in sand, and every exhale is like glass shards dragging through your lungs and up your throat. The tears streaming down your face may as well be slicing through layers of skin, every wound pulsing and throbbing with a new kind of angry vengeance.
You’re sobbing, nearly choking on air as the pain continues to pulse in your body. It’s too much, every sensation inside and outside of your body meshing together in an agonizing harmony.
“Shhh.” Phil tries to shush you as he bends down, his cheek resting against the side of your head. “I know, I know. You’ll be alright.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head before letting you go limp in the chair.
Your scream still hangs in the air even after the video ends.
It’s otherwise silent in the room, all eight of them feeling the weight of their decisions on their shoulders. The scents in the air are full of pain and regret and guilt and anger.
“Was that fatal?” Kate asks, breaking the tense silence.
“No.” Christine chokes out, her voice shaky. Her hands are trembling where they’re tucked against her sides. Her arms are crossed over her chest, trying to bring herself some kind of comfort after what she had just watched. “He went for the scent gland. It’s not a fatal injury, unless you go too deep, but he knew what he was doing.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “It’s just incredibly painful.”
Her words hang in the air for a moment, all of them still trying to process what they had just seen.
John slams his hands on the table, all of them jumping. “I fucking told you.” He says, his voice laced with the deep growl of his alpha. “I fucking told you Kate, she should have been flown out here as soon as you made the call.”
“I know.” Kate says, undeterred by his anger. She’s seen it many times, though she’s rarely been on the receiving end of it. “I know, I made a bad call. None of us knew they would take it this far.”
“But we knew something was going on behind the scenes.” John says, still radiating anger. “All precautions should have been taken.”
“There was no guarantee her being here would have stopped them. She might not have been any safer here.” Kate says, trying to ease his anger, even though she knows it’s completely warranted. “This goes far deeper than we thought it did. Even before this plan was set into motion.” She waits a moment, letting the air settle. “A year ago, a convoy was smuggling missiles and other weapons into the Middle East in an off-the-books operation. The convoy was attacked and the missiles and arms were stolen by a Russian PMC group. The operation was conducted under the command of Shepherd, and the soldiers in the convoy were all Shadow Company.”
“That’s how Graves is tied into this.” Kyle says.
“It goes deeper than that.” Kate says, pulling up a file and displaying it on screen. “The missiles and weapons being smuggled weren’t being sent to aid allies in the Middle East. Shepherd sold them to AQ and the Russians. The PMC group that attacked Shadow Company was hired by Shepherd to make it look like an ambush.”
“Fucking weasel.” Simon growls.
“I don’t know how much Graves knows, or how much he helped hide the entire operation, but his ties to this go even deeper than that.” Kate says, and they all shift closer. “Graves has history with your omega.” She says, pulling up an old photo. “We combed through one of her brothers’ Facebook pages. Found an old photo of her dad with Graves. They served on the same base when her family lived in Texas before Graves left to join MARSOC. She would have still been a child at the time.”
They stare at the photo, Graves clearly identifiable as he stands next to another man, beers in their hands. There’s two other boys in the photo, young and grinning at the camera. Standing in front of Graves is a little girl, a happy grin on her face. They’re all in various combinations of red, white, and blue.
4th of July, they assume.
“That’s how she got into the institute so fast.” John says, staring at the photo. He’s never seen a photo of your father before. You must take after your mother. “Graves pulled the strings.”
Kate nods. “He did, but under the condition he would be the one to claim her when she grew old enough. The CIA wiped out that claim when they froze her file.”
The 141 all shift on their feet, sharing looks. John feels a sick twisting in his stomach at the implications. Your position in the photo suddenly makes sense. Anger burns in him, deep and bubbling like magma. He’ll kill the bastard.
“This is revenge then.” Johnny says.
“In a way, I think.” Kate says. “We took away what he wanted. Graves wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.”
“This all is what the initiative was created for.” Christine says, leaning against the table. “A contingency in case this all was uncovered.”
“A way to control us.” Kyle says.
Kate nods. “Yes. It was all a plan to give the 141 a weakness, a way to be controlled should the situation arise. In this case it just so happened to be the uncovering of his traitorous arms deals.”
“We were all pawns in this.” Christine says.
“We let them walk right in and take control like that.” John says, turning to Christine. “You let them walk in and take our omega.”
She turns to face him, undeterred by his agitation and anger. “I did what I thought was right at the time. I got a call from one of the front desk workers in the med center saying that someone was waiting in my office for me.” She explains. “They wouldn’t say who it was, and the whole thing felt off. I knew whoever would be visiting me was not going to be friendly, so I felt it was safer to leave her in the barracks than take her with me and risk something happening in a place she doesn’t know well. In the barracks at least she’d know places to hide and barricade herself.”
She takes a deep breath, still facing down John fearlessly. He’s coiled tight like a spring, ready to jump at any moment should he deem it necessary. It’s those protective instincts, the knowledge that his omega is somewhere else, taken unwillingly and being tortured feeding into that need to fight.
“My office door was open when I got there.” She continues. “I always leave it locked. I went in prepared to fight, but I was attacked from behind. Hit over the head and drugged with something fast acting, something that would keep me incapacitated long enough for him to strike.” She stares up into his eyes, projecting her scent just a bit to try and get him to calm down. “We all made mistakes here, things we thought were the right choice at the time.”
She’s not wrong. They all know it. They had just seen proof of it.
“The assailant?” John asks, turning back to Kate.
“Corporal McKinney.” Kate says. “He was in Shepherd’s pocket from the start. Someone who could watch first-hand. Someone who could sneak into the barracks unnoticed without many questions. He was likely the one that put the cameras up.”
“Fucking wanker.” Simon growls. “He approached her once in the mess. Early on. Tried to introduce himself to her. Backed off as soon as I intervened. Never tried again, at least that we know of.”
“She never mentioned him.” Christine says. “Or anyone else on base that might have tried to approach her.”
“Where is he now?” Kyle asks. They’re all angry, frustrated. How had they not seen this happening?
“Local police tracked his car to an abandoned airfield not far outside of Hereford.” Kate says. “He was dead inside. Police ruled it suicide.”
“I’m sure it was.” John says.
They all know it wasn’t.
“Shadow Company likely picked her up from there with orders to stage a suicide.” Kate says.
“One less loose string to worry about.” Simon says. “Covers their tracks in England.”
They all go quiet. How this had all happened right under their noses? They’re all guilty of falling for it, for being too trusting in a world they know they can’t be too careful in. Allies can turn on a dime and become enemies. Betrayals can be easily bought. Things can turn downhill within a blink of an eye. They’re supposed to be prepared for the worst, ready for every possibility.
They had written this off as a conspiracy, and now their omega is paying for it.
“We need a plan.” Farah says, breaking the silence.
“We can’t let Shepherd get away with this.” John says.
“We cannae just leave her.” Johnny argues against his head alpha. It’s a brave thing, considering his alpha’s current mental state.
“I don’t know how much more she can take.” Simon backs his beta up, the desperation and pain on your face still visible in all of their minds.
“Let us go after Shepherd.” Alex says, offering up a solution. “He’s obviously watching for you to come after him.”
“We can move undetected.” Farah agrees. “He’s less likely to expect us. You need to focus on your omega. Shepherd will show himself again eventually.”
“Do we have a lead on their location?” Kyle asks, turning back to Kate.
She nods. “We do now. I sent a team out to try and track location through the videos and where they were being sent from.” She pulls a map up on screen. “We have a location.”
“Texas.” Alex says.
“He took her home.” Christine says.
“We have a plan then. We go after Graves, Farah and Alex start tracking Shepherd. Kate is eyes in the sky for us.” John says.
“She’s going to need medical attention as soon as possible.” Christine says. She looks at Kate. “Where is the nearest military base from their location?”
Kate types on her computer. “Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base in Fort Worth.”
“Get me there and I’ll be waiting. She’s going to need someone she knows.” She says, looking at John. “She’s not going to just let anyone close to her after this. She may not even let you close.”
John stares down at her for a long moment. She stares back unflinchingly. She doesn’t get intimidated easily, not after years of dealing with institutes and alphas alike.
He lets out a breath, staring down at her for a long moment before he nods. “I trust you.”
“Short reunion this time.”
“I’m just glad I got to see your face again.” Christine says, looking up at Alex.
“Things are...complicated.” He says. “Maybe after all of this is over we can go and get some coffee. Talk about our lives...as much as we can.”
The corner of her mouth twitches up in a smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Alex pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly. “You’re doing good work, Chrissy.”
She shakes her head at the nickname, but she holds him just as tightly. “I’m trying to.”
Alex pulls away, squeezing her arms. “I’d say you are. You care a lot. To the point some might call it a character defect.”
She scoffs, slapping his chest playfully. “Not like you’re much better.” She glances at the car where Farah is waiting patiently. “I’m happy for you.”
“Oh, we’re....” Alex blushes to his ears. “We’re not...”
She gives him a look. “Mhm sure.” She looks up at him one more time. “Be safe.”
“As best I can.” He says. “Take care of yourself. Don’t be too hard on yourself either.”
“I try not to be.” She squeezes his hand before stepping away.
She watches the SUV drive off, stomach churning with nerves for both of them. Shepherd is dangerous, but Alex has fearlessly faced down danger since he was a kid. He’s always been brave and determined, loyal and unafraid to do what he thinks is right no matter what. She trusts him to take care of himself, she trusts Farah to help him, even if she only met the woman today.
She trusts them both to take care of each other. She trusts them both to help put an end to this.
Your body aches, muscles screaming. You can’t take much more. Your cheek throbs painfully, swollen to the point you almost can’t see out of your left eye. The pain burning from your neck makes the other pain in your body nearly irrelevant, nearly nonexistent. It’s like electricity, burning through your very cells. Every movement seems to make it flare, makes the electric shock jolt through you. The burning pain that follows makes you whimper, a pathetic choking sound squeaking out from your bruised throat.
The pain makes you nauseous, vomit staining the front of your shirt and pants. It’s mostly bile and the little food you’ve gotten since your kidnapping.
Nutrient bars, meant to keep you fed and nourished for a short period of time.
You may never be able to eat them again.
“Fuck.” Graves curses, staring at his phone. “They’ve backed off.” He steps up to you, looking down on your pathetic form. “Looks like your boys do care about you after all.”
Do they? Are they really coming for you, or have they simply given up chasing Shepherd because they lost all their leads. Will they come for you, or will they leave you here to rot? What will Graves do then? Try to take you as his own omega? Kill you out of anger?
Your stomach churns and you can feel the bile rising.
You vomit again, the warm liquid splashing into your lap. You can’t lean far enough anymore, not without the risk of not being able to pull yourself back up, not with the pain burning your every movement. You can’t even lift your head anymore, your body weak and battered and bruised. There’s blood everywhere, on you and on the floor. You can still taste it in your mouth, mixing with the sourness of bile.
Graves gives you a disgusted look before turning to the others in the room. “Duran, Lewis, keep watch. The rest of you come with me.”
He leaves the room for the first time in what you assume is days. For once the cocktail of scents begins to disperse, all but two of the alphas finally disappearing. Where they’re going or what they’re going to do, you don’t know. You can’t bring yourself to care either way. You just want to go home. You want to see your mother again, your brothers and sisters, even your father would be a welcome sight after this. You want your alpha, you want him to hold you, to take you in his arms, keep you safe.
He abandoned you. He left you to suffer like this.
Your breathing picks up as you sit there, chin to chest as you stare at your bloody shirt. The smells in the room are awful, the scents no longer there to block out the sour bile and metallic stench blood. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, pink tinted splatters dripping onto your pants. What are you going to do now? What are they going to do to you now? Will they keep you alive long enough for your pack to arrive then kill you in front of them? Will they torture them too, make them watch as the life slowly leaves your eyes in revenge for chasing after Shepherd?
A sob rips through your sore throat up out of your lips.
You just want to go home.
You just want to be free.
You can be.
Distress. The final defense. The last ditch effort omegas have to save themselves. Distress will lead to your omega taking over, and if nothing else, a quiet death you won’t even realize is happening. Your body will give out and you’ll be safely tucked into the back of your brain, comforted by your instincts. You won’t have to worry anymore. You won’t have to care.
If nothing else, the pain will be over.
I’m sorry.
You begin to breathe heavier, ignoring the pain in your body as you push yourself to hyperventilate. The alphas behind you might do something, might try to stop it. They could, but would they even know how? Would it even work if you got too far? They’re not your alpha. They can’t comfort you, bring you back from the edge without forcing you. Will they even bother?
You tilt your head to the side, putting pressure on your injured scent gland. You sob at the pain, the burning flowing straight into your very cells, making them scream. You push through it, your wrists twisting against the zip ties, digging them further into your already damaged wrists. The pain pushes you to a point of panic, your heart rate through the roof. You can feel it, the tightening of your muscles, your joints locking into place.
You’ve never done it purposefully before, but in this state, it’s not hard.
They left you. They’ve abandoned you. They’ve given up. It’s all your fault they left. They’re not coming for you. You’re not worth it.
The thoughts send you down the spiral, the edges of your vision starting to go dark. You’re floating away, hands and feet going numb as your wheezing, shallow breaths block the oxygen from getting to your brain. You’re sinking, your body floating as you begin to retreat into the back of your mind. The cage is open, your omega soothing you as you drift off, curling up in the back recesses of your mind.
You’re safe now. She whispers.
There’s no going back.
You’re going to get out.
Even if you have to do it yourself.
The last breath you remember taking is shaky, making you cough before your vision begins to fade to grey, then to black. You’re getting out of here no matter what. You’re going to go to sleep. If you fail, you’ll never know it. Your death will be quick and gentle and you’ll never know it happened until you’ve moved on to whatever is next.
You won’t remember any of this. That’s your only consolation.
Your vision fades to black as all memory and awareness leaves you. The last thing you remember is the snap of the zip ties around your wrists as they break.
“Graves has moved with some of his men to the western building. It’s likely the hostage is being held in the eastern building. Gaz and I will go after Graves. Ghost and Soap will try to secure the hostage.”
“Keller is on her way to NAS JRB as we speak. They’re on standby for medevac.”
“Stealth is our priority. They know we’re here, we risk losing the hostage. Quick and quiet, take them by surprise. The faster we do this, the sooner it will all be over.”
**Content Warning: blood and slight gore, someone gets shot offscreen, some gorey and explicit imagery towards the end**
He’s not unfamiliar with high stakes missions. It’s his specialty. He’s cool and calm under stress and pressure, which is why he gets chosen for them. He can detach easily, get the job done and then go home and forget.
So why are his hands shaking?
This isn’t a high stakes mission, not like one he’s used to doing. The stakes are higher, higher than he’s ever had before. It’s not just eliminating some faceless target, it’s not just rescuing some faceless hostage.
It’s rescuing you.
How much did he get for this assignment? How much did he settle for once he learned you were involved?
He hates that you were involved in all of this. He hates that they all fell for it, blind to the truth, blind to Shepherd’s traitorous actions. They refused to entertain those conspiratorial thoughts, and now you’re paying for it.
He hates it.
He should have never left you alone like that. He should have argued against Price and his decision to leave when they knew something wasn't right. They should have known something was going on behind the scenes, that there was a higher purpose to all of this.
His conspiracies had been correct from the start.
He hates that it had to come to fruition.
How could Graves torture an innocent omega? You're not just an innocent omega to him, though. You're a broken promise, a lost opportunity, one he'd waited for, for a long time. Of course he wouldn't have stopped as soon as they started going after him. He wouldn’t give up just because Shepherd told him to stop. He’s ruthless and uncaring of who he hurts and why. He gets his orders and he completes them, no matter what, so long as whoever is giving those orders can pay a high enough price.
Far too much despite that fact, most likely. Maybe he should become a merc. Less rules and more money.
It’s not a bad idea.
He lasers his focus on the building as they creep through the trees, moving silently. Two against however many are inside. It was impossible to tell with how many were moving between the two buildings constantly.
He brought the whole squad. He planned on putting up a fight regardless.
At least they have the element of surprise on their hands.
“We move silently through the building.” He says as they approach the door. There’s two guards standing outside. “They know we’re inside, things could go downhill quickly.”
“On you, LT.” Johnny says, taking point beside him.
“Drop one, I’ll take the other.” He says, aiming at one of the two Shadows guarding the door.
It’s quick and quiet, their bodies slumping onto the damp dirt. Simon scans the area before moving forward to the door. It’s unlocked, Johnny pushing it open slowly to check for a trip wire.
None.
Sloppy, or perhaps on purpose. They can’t be too careful. Shepherd will have let Graves know they’re not on his trail anymore. He’ll be expecting them.
They split up, combing the bottom floor of the building. He takes out two more Shadows, checking every room for a sign of their target, but they find none.
“Second floor.” He says, waiting at the base of the stairwell for Johnny to join him.
“You think she’s in here?” Johnny asks as they creep up the stairs, careful not to make too much noise.
“Well, we’ll find out.”
It’s far too unguarded to where they’re holding you. Graves will have assumed they’d split up. He must have moved most of his men to the western building to put up as much of a barricade as possible. He can picture Graves standing there, the smirk on his face as he holds a gun to your head. Will he take that risk, shoot you in front of them and give them nothing to live for? Or will he use a knife, letting you die a slow, painful death in front of them?
Or, maybe he moved them to the western building to make them think that’s where you are. Focus their attacks there so they leave you behind. He gets cornered, he send the word to kill you before any of them can get to you.
More red herrings.
He pauses before he reaches the top of the steps, taking out the shadow standing down the hallway. They split up again, looking through rooms at the top of the stairs, making their way down the hallway.
One of the doors is open, and he silently motions for Johnny. He counts down silently in his head before rounding the corner, rifle up as he scans the room. His stomach churns as he looks inside, taking a couple cautious steps forward. He’s seen a lot of things in his time, done a lot of things, but this is different.
“Screaming Jesus.” Johnny says, lowering his rifle as he steps in behind Simon.
There’s blood everywhere.
It’s coating the floors, leaving a sticky residue as it dries. It’s the room you were in. He recognizes it from the video, and the bright light in the corner is a dead giveaway. The chair in the middle of the room has been broken, the wood of the arms snapped off and splintered. There’s four bloody zip ties on the floor, along with several instruments on the floor including the ice pick.
He wants to shove that into Graves’ eye for what he did to you.
There’s two bodies on the floor, one of them dead in a pool of his own blood, the other choking as blood seeps onto the floor under him. He steps up to the shadow, putting his boot on his chest and pushing. The Shadow lets out a groan, coughing up blood.
“Where the fuck is she?” He growls, staring down at the quickly paling face.
“Fucking bitch went crazy.” He chokes out. “Went running.”
Simon steps back, pulling out his handgun and firing two bullets into the Shadow’s head.
“Price, we found the room.” He says into his comm. “The hostage isn’t here. A half-dead Shadow said she bolted.”
“LT.” Johnny says, motioning to the door, the only other exit from the room. There’s a bloody handprint on the door, one too small to be one of the Shadows’.
“I think she managed to get out.” He says, staring at the handprint. His stomach drops, his hand tightening around his rifle. He glances down at the bodies, throats cut and faces bloody. “I think her omega took over.”
“You and Soap go after her. She’ll do the one thing she knows to do, the one instinctual thing she can do if she has nothing to fight.” Price says. “We’ve got Graves cornered.”
Simon pushes the door open, cool air flowing into the stuffy room. There’s bloody shoe prints heading down the stairs. He can see the rapid turn on the concrete below before they head off towards the trees.
“I’ve got a trail.” He says.
“Go.” Price says. “Simon...you know what you have to do.”
He does.
He motions for Johnny to follow before hurrying down the stairs. The longer they delay, the further you’ll get. He doesn’t doubt some Shadows followed you if you made that much of a ruckus. The more time they waste, the more dangerous things get, and not just because they might lose you or the shadows might catch up.
He races towards the treeline, rifle in hand, but there’s no one else standing guard. Price and Gaz will have taken care of those in the other building, and those that were outside probably went after you.
He slows once they break the treeline, trying to catch any hint of your scent that might be left. His only hope is that you’ve left a trail. He’s a tracker, he knows what he’s doing. His senses are stronger, more in tune. He can find you. He can track you down. He has to.
The guilt is eating him alive. If something happens to you, he’ll never forgive himself. He’s right here, so close and yet so far. You’re running on borrowed time and there’s only so much of it left. Eventually you have to slow, eventually your body will start giving up. Will it be too late then? If a Shadow finds you when you can’t fight back...
“Dead Shadow ahead.” Johnny says, motioning to the slumped over body ahead of them. “We’re on the trail.”
“Let’s hope she left more markers on the way.” He says, kicking the Shadow, but the stab wound in his neck is all Simon needs to know. “Keep going straight.” He says, continuing on the path they’ve been following. He needs just a whiff, a hint of your scent. Something.
They come across another dead Shadow, this one off to the side of the path they had been following. He turns, making an adjustment before moving forward. Johnny keeps close, both of them watching for more Shadows, or for any glimpse of you. All they can hope is they’re on the right path.
He nearly sets off in a run as he hears a sound ahead. It’s a yowl, almost like a mountain lion. It sends a tingle down his back, his alpha blaring warning alarms. A threatened omega is a dangerous thing. Fierce and protective of themselves, capable of great feats and lethal if you get too close.
It’s you, no doubt.
Price had been right.
He has no choice.
He pushes forward, his steps quick as he makes his way through the bushes. He spots you near a boulder, trying to fight off a Shadow. He’s got the upper hand, using his size against you. You’re getting tired, your movements slowing. Simon aims with his rifle, a shot to the head dropping the Shadow. You drop into a crouch, surveying the trees. You’re covered in blood, a knife in your hand as your wild eyes search for them.
“Distract her.” He says to Johnny. “Make yourself as unthreatening as possible. I’ll go around and get her from behind.”
He doesn’t even wait for an acknowledgement before he’s moving, slipping around to the side of the boulder. Johnny steps into the clearing slowly, holding his hands up, talking to you quietly.
“Easy, kitten. Ye know who I am.” Johnny is careful not to get too close, his steps slow as he moves to the side, getting you to turn. “We’re just here to help ye. Get ye home and safe.”
You’re holding the knife up, brandishing it at Johnny. Simon isn’t sure if you’ve ever thrown a knife before, but he doesn’t put it past you to try in this state.
He hopes Johnny’s reflexes are fast enough.
He slips out from behind the boulder as you pause, wasting no time as he races up behind you and grabbing you before you can bolt or go for Johnny’s neck. You let out another yowl, struggling against him as he wraps an arm around your chest. Your teeth sink into his arm and he lets out a curse, but he doesn’t let go. If he lets go, they won’t get another chance. It’ll be too late.
He doesn't want to do it. His mind flashes back to his father and mother, one of the few times his mother fought back. It hadn’t lasted long before her body went limp, practically a ragdoll in his father’s hold. Simon had grabbed Tommy and ran, barricading them in his room. They didn’t want to see what was going to happen next.
He doesn’t want that kind of control over you, he doesn’t want to put you through that trauma. The disorientation, the fear, the confusion. That must have been what it felt like after being sedated during your heat. You had been sick for days, crying in Johnny’s room. He had heard every sob, every attempt to soothe you.
He put you through that. He made you face that despite the fear on your face as Johnny escorted you to the med center.
And now he has to do it again.
He has to this time. He has no choice. His only other option is to let you die. Price will never forgive him. Johnny won’t even look at him again. He’d betray them worse than you did, worse than Shepherd, worse than Graves.
You never really betrayed them in the first place, though.
You were afraid, untrusting of them, unsure because of your past. He had been foolish to blame you, foolish to think it was somehow your fault. You acted out of fear, out of terror. How you must have felt in those moments when that beta showed up, when you faced down Shepherd alone, when you returned to find your space invaded and those cameras all over your room. They weren’t there to protect you, they weren’t there to support you. They left you alone and you hid it from them because you didn’t know any better, because you were so afraid.
He’s a goddamn fucking prick he’s been.
Tears blur his vision as he tucks his free arm behind you, shifting your position just enough so he can get his hand around the back of your neck. You kick out with your legs, releasing his arm, your head tilting back in a last ditch, instinctual effort to protect yourself.
His eyes squeeze closed as you let out a yelp, his fingers digging into the back of your neck. It’s hard enough it will leave a bruise, but he has to be sure. It’s the only thing that might save you. It’s his only option, his only chance to keep you alive.
“There you go.” He says quietly into your ear. “Need you to relax for me.”
Your body goes limp in his hold, head resting back against his hand as he holds you there. Your muscles twitch as the tension leaves you, eyelids fluttering before they close. His arm stings where your teeth had sunk into his skin, hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t care.
“Keep resting.” He says, easing his hand from the back of your neck as he shifts you in his arms. “Gonna get you somewhere safe.”
You’re like a ragdoll in his arms as he lifts you up, cradling you against his chest. You’re warm, hair sticking to your forehead.
“Call it in.” He tells Johnny, his eyes still glued to your face. “We need that medevac now.”
“Price, we got her.” Johnny says into his comm. “We need medevac stat.”
You look so peaceful despite the blood soaking your body. Partially yours, partially the Shadows you killed in your escape. You look like a gruesome painting, a gorey depiction of an omega pushed too far. Something they’d put on display in a museum, a photo that would win prizes in celebration of such a natural state caught on camera. It would be circulated for decades, something talked about centuries from now.
A raw view of humanity’s inner beasts.
He can’t stand it, seeing you like this. They did this to you. They are the reason you’re like this. They made the bad call in the end, they put you through this. You won’t forgive them, not after everything. You went weeks without them, without a word and then this happened. Innocence tainted in the blood of the guilty. The bloodstained omega held in the arms of the blood-tainted alpha. He should be the one covered in their blood. He should be the one carrying the weight of torture and desperation on his shoulders.
The guardian dog covered in blood in the name of protecting his innocent sheep.
How he’s failed you. How they all failed you.
He pushes past the pain, past the grief, past the guilt and the horror of what they did to you, what they put you through.
They’ve got you back. You’re safe.
It’s over.
NEXT ->
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#call of duty#call of duty fic#poly 141#poly 141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#John price x reader#captain price x reader#Simon Riley x reader#Ghost x reader#Kyle Garrick x reader#gaz x reader#soap x reader#John mactavish x reader#a/b/o#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#omegaverse
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Ok fine you guys twisted my arm (I say to a completely empty room) here's why I think Mass Effect 2 worked and Veilguard tried to copy it and failed.
First up is the complexity of the goal/plot. In ME2, the end goal was simple: Stop the Collectors from harvesting humans. Blast off through the Omega 4 Relay and probably die. Take down as many Collectors as possible before you die. Basically, shoot stuff until it explodes. It made sense that half of the squadmates were just "legendary badass", "legendary badass (green skin version)" and "legendary badass (huge tits version)." You need to kill dudes, so you pick people who are good at killing. There are a few who are better at tech or science, but they use tech and science to, you guessed it, kill dudes. Then you have a few who join due to aligning goals (Legion) or loyalty to Shepard (Tali, Garrus) or humanity/Cerberus (Jacob, Miranda), or they're literally getting paid to be there (Kasumi and Zaeed). But all of them have reasons to stick around, of various importance.
The specificity of the main plot is also relevant here, because everybody in the galaxy is like "oh humans are getting kidnapped? sucks to suck dude rip in piss ://" so it makes sense to recruit whoever you can get. You need help for an issue that (according to everyone who would otherwise help) only concerns you. So you're like "hey are you good at killing? and do you mind dying?" and most of those freaks go "yeah lmao whatever." They're self-selecting, because the cause is so specific and explicitly suicidal.
The suicidal thing also helps explain the loyalty missions, btw. They're not presented as "hey can you umm help? or I'm gonna be distwacted 👉👈" but as "hey man, these people are willing to die on your command, you should probably help them with their unfinished business at the very least." And yeah, the mechanic of "if you don't help they'll fucking perish" remains the same, but the framing is different. In ME2, you're basically helping a bunch of professionals to do this final thing before they die for your cause. It's both a sign of respect and of consideration for them as people, and strengthens your bond with them and their loyalty to you. The way it's framed means that you don't have to do this in order for them to do their job, but doing it helps strengthen their belief in you.
And because the stakes are relatively low (as far as everyone knows), of course the squadmates will respect and appreciate a Shepard who takes care of them more. Of course it builds loyalty. This person isn't just using you as a meat shield for their pet crusade, they're genuinely trying to do what's right and don't want you to die for nothing.
In Veilguard, you're literally told multiple times that you have to do their dumbfuck busywork or else they're gonna throw in the towel. Hey man can you do this thing? Or else I'm not saving the world :3c The stakes being SO HIGH while their issues are SO NOTHING makes most of them look really immature and incompetent, which clashes against the whole "gang of experts" thing. You're telling me this couldn't wait? I have to go into Lucanis' mind and figure out his traumas or else he won't ... hold a knife good? And that will doom the world because he's the only guy who can hold a knife? Okay???
ME2 presents everybody as professionals and experts in their field, but at the end of the day, they're just there to kill stuff. Remove one, and another will be found. The mission is (as far as everyone in power knows) not galaxy-threatening yet, so finding new guys to help would be easy. That's why Shep taking the time to solve their final issues means something and why it earns their loyalty. It shows that Shep cares about them as people.
Veilguard presents these people as experts in their fields, too. They're considered irreplacable in this conflict. And the conflict is saving the whole entire fucking world. And YET, that has to take a backseat to them figuring out what happened to a work colleague or Lucanis' grandma, because none of these experts can take a fucking chill pill to SAVE THE WORLD.
ME2 offers "low" stakes for the conflict and high stakes for the characters, so when it focuses on the characters' stories, it makes sense. You get the impression that it's character drama with a common goal that brings them all together. Veilguard offers high stakes for the plot and low stakes for the characters, but still focuses on the characters, so you get the sense that we're fucking around playing therapist while the world is on fire in the background, and it's presented as totally logical, because these guys can't save the world without a clear mind!! Despite being ... experts in their fields.
That's why, to me, Rook feels like a therapist while Shep feels like a leader.
Anyway, this is the formal end of the post but I wrote more on the specific character motivations of the Veilguard and why they don't work/feel trite to me and how that adds to Rook feeling like they're a therapist but it didn't fit with the rest of the post so under cut.
Another thing is that, while sometimes the problems of the Veilguard are technically higher stakes than the problems of the ME2 squad, there is a sense of "Hey do you actually need me for this?" And that I think is in part to the lacking motivations of the Veilguard. It's so unclear why some of them stick around that it becomes difficult to justify why they wouldn't just leave to fix their own issues.
(For example, Garrus asks us to help kill a guy. The guy isn't dangerous, he's not out there killing people or in possession of a superweapon ready to destroy a city. He's just an asshole and Garrus wants revenge. He could, technically, leave and just kill the guy himself. He knows where the guy is, so what's holding him back? Well, the job is. And Shepard is. Garrus wants Shep's help, because he doesn't trust himself to finish it on his own. He needs somebody to rely on, but he also knows that he can't just leave without Shep's permission, and that Shep needs him, too. Everything is on Shep's schedule, and there's no real time limit. His revenge can wait until Shep is ready to offer their help.
Neve is hunting an old rival who is a blood mage threatening to enslave her favorite city in all da world. It's pretty damn high stakes. But in my playthrough, Neve wasn't counting on Rook's help at all. In fact, she explicitly mentioned several times that she didn't. Yet, she still sat around and waited for their help. She didn't leave to deal with this on her own, didn't even consider it. But why not? What about Rook or this cause is keeping her there, especially since there's canonically time before the next big move and the issue is so high-stakes and pressing? People will die if she doesn't do something, yet she's sitting on her ass waiting for Rook, whose help she isn't counting on, to step up? What???)
Neve is introduced as being hired by Varric to find Solas, which she does. In the tutorial mission. She sticks around after Varric dies because ... she's in too deep now, I guess. She has to help save the world, you see. Even though all she wants is to go back to Minrathous and protect the people there. She wants your help to. Figure out some stuff. The famous big city detective needs the help of a person who's introduced as somebody who "thinks in straight lines" and whose nickname is probably a play on "rookie." She is not getting paid for this. She's doing this out of the kindness of her heart, even though most of her time on screen is spent dreaming of her favorite city in da world. She's not an expert in anything that has to do with the current plot, so she's in-fiction not really vital to keep around. Her role as a mage is made entirely pointless by the existence of Bellara and Emmrich. Supposedly her area of expertise is in blood magic ... despite hating it and not actually practicing it, on account of it being bad and evil. So she's an expert in killing blood mages, then?
Well, no. That's Lucanis. He's the resident mage killer ... who we find in an underwater prison, guarded by blood mages. I get there is a reason for why he was defeated, but the optics aren't great, ya know? We don't really free him as much as we lightly distract his guards, so he can bust out of the prison fully clothed and armored. He's suuper eager for revenge, but he's also been forcefully possessed. But that's okay, because we need his expertise for um. Killing mages. Which is what the Evanuris are. So this random possessed human guy will know better than anybody else how to kill the Evanuris. Sure. He decides to stick around on account of ... the Crows always finishing a contract. Who is paying him? Who is paying the Crows? His gam-gam ordered him to stay, she's basically offering us his services for freeing him. Guy is an indentured servant but acts like it's his choice, like it's an honor thing and not his grandma putting him in the toilet. And when it's time for him to show/offer his expertise in the field, he says "How am I supposed to fight a cloud?" which is fair enough, sure. But have you not fought mages before? Do you not have any reference for them doing weird shit at all? Do you not know how to disrupt rituals, break barriers? In the end, all he can practically do is hold the special knife and attempt to stick the pointy end into his target. Which my rogue Rook or Davrin or Taash chould've done. But gam-gam says to sit so he sits! It's not a very compelling motivation for this epic expert mage killer to just kinda. Stick around out of obligation. It could've been interesting, if he chafed against it or had to be won over, but he's just fine with it. It's treated as natural that this dude, who isn't even slightly an actual expert and is just a glorified knife holder and who isn't practically useful in any sense of the word, is still in the group. It's treated as natural that Rook has to go out of their way to help him clear his mind so he can hold the knife better next time, instead of just finding another guy to hold the knife. Maybe the spirit in him makes him stronger and more capable of fighting mages? No, the spirit is what made him miss in the first place, actually! So you have to help him figure it out or he'll miss again. DON'T ask somebody else to hold the knife though. It HAS TO BE Lucanis. Because he's the mage killer expert. Who missed. And can't handle mages.
Then we have Taash, who we need to kill the blighted dragons. They're the only dragon hunter around and have an encyclopedic knowledge of said dragons. Unfortunately the blighted state of the dragons that are actually necessary to kill are behaving in unexpected and different ways from normal dragons. They're literally manipulated by the Evanuris to be harder to kill. Making Taash's expertise moot. I didn't even have them in my party when I took on two dragons at once, and in fact the only dragons that Taash is presented as capable of killing are ones that they want us to kill. So this expert we recruit mostly introduces more dragons for us to kill that aren't actually threatening us in any way. The main time Taash has to show off their knowledge is when we use the dragon trap ... which was fashioned by Wardens. Who are all trained specifically to fight Archdemons. Who are dragons. That are blighted. Do you uh. Do you see my problem here. Taash also sticks around the Veilguard for inexplicable reasons. Mostly it seems they don't want to go home to their mother, which is fine, but this is a whole-ass adult, supposedly. They could go back to hunting dragons for the Lords, because they're written as too self-absorbed to really care about stepping up to the fight just for the sake of it. So despite them not really being useful in any way to the overall plot, we still have to help them figure out their gender identity, or else they won't be able to ... fight the blighted dragons. Which they couldn't fight. On account of the blight. Cool cool cool.
Then we have Emmrich, who is a professor and has shit to do. He is also presented as a Fade expert, while Bellara is somehow not, despite doing most of the Fade-related and artifact-related magic on-screen. Emmrich joins the Veilguard on account of um. Well we asked nicely, and he's a good guy, so he has to help save the world. Despite the fact that he's terrified of dying. Which he's far more likely to do after leaving his job. And the thing is, yeah, "the world might end so we need to stop that!" is a valid motivation, but if we accept it as the motivation of a central character whose plot we must find compelling, then why is it that it's only a few guys trying to save the world? This conflict is prestented as bigger than all the previous games combined, bigger than (the) Inquisition, which had literally entire armies and different branches and infrastructure for it's "smaller" conflict, and people were still volunteering and joining in droves, but here we're 8 guys? Are we meant to believe Emmrich's willingness to join the Veilguard is somehow unique to him, and that nobody else in the world would volunteer to join? When Harding exists, on the same team?
Speaking of, Harding is a character who can really get away with "I wanna save the world", because her joining the Inquisition is literally how she got into the plot in the first place. She's a joiner. She joins heroic causes. So her having this sort of bare-bones but noble motivation works. Same with Davrin. Bellara seems to join out of both curiosity and guilt, which are interesting enough reasons and come through visibly in her subplot and characterization, but more importantly, she doesn't have anything holding her back that might take priority until she finds out her brother is alive. Her sticking around also makes some sense because she's ya know. An elf mage Fade expert. Or sorry an elf artifacts expert.
I'm not saying "somebody's gotta do it!" or "it's the right thing to do!" aren't valid motivations, they clearly are, but there's gotta be more to it, especially when it comes to characters who have something to lose like Emmrich. My guy is terrified of death but he's such a good dude that he jumps into this life-threatening conflict without a second thought? But then gets so "distracted" by his wacky scientist former colleague that he needs our help figuring it out? Huh???
Um. I didn't have a conclussy for this part of the post so. bye
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Primarchs and their child's education
Explanation: So I was thinking, like, would the Primarchs kids be homeschooled (personal tutors and such)? Or would they go to regular school for regular (noble) kids? Would the Primarchs help with their homework? Are they relaxed or tiger parents?
Honestly, Mortarion almost forgot that his kid had to get an education until one day someone asked him what school he was going to send them to. However, he quickly decided that it was probably for the best for his kid to be taught by personal tutors, teachers that could adapt their way of teaching to better suit his kid. Pretty strict about their education, wants them to do well, but he's not overbearing and does offer them some gruff praise when they perform to expectation.
Fulgrim saw the options and went "Why not both?" Both regular school and homeschooling. This way, his precious child gets to both dazzle the other kids and the teacher AND get the advanced education they deserve! Fulgrim thinks this is the perfect solution. Doesn't realize that this rarely leaves his child the time to explore their own interests. Also a helicopter parent. He wants to know what his kid is doing and how well they are doing at all times.
Angron didn't get to go to school, he wasn't given that opportunity, so he wants his child to have it. Won't admit that it makes him anxious to send them out there, to a place where he can't keep an eye on them, but doesn't want to limit his kid just because he won't stop worrying. Appears disinterested in their education, barely asks about it and just grunts when he gets an answer but he actually does care. It makes him feel better when his kid tells them about an interesting lesson they had or a new friend they made.
When Magnus' kid is young, they are homeschooled. He recognizes that as the child of a Primarch, they have other needs. Find the perfect tutors for them that can keep them both stimulated and engaged. But when his child gets a bit older, he sends them to school. He knows that the best way to develop your mind is to engage in conversations with other people on your same level. Through all of this, Magnus is very invested in his child's education and helps teach them when he's got the time.
Perturabo is a straight up tiger parent. He demands success from his kid in all areas, including education. They are taught by the best, strictest tutors the Imperium has to offer. Poor kid, most of their day is spent inside, studying. And when the tutors are finished, that's when Perturabo or one of his captains step in for further education, this time focused on warfare and siege tactics. If Perturabo is in a good mood, he might teach them about architecture, but it rarely happens as he thinks they will never get the chance to utilize this knowledge.
Alpharius and Omegon sends their kid to school, explicitly telling them to observe the other children and the teachers, to learn how they behave and to infiltrate their inner circles. Then, when you get back home, tell them what you've observed and analyze what this means. Yeah, they are treating all of this as a training exercise. And while they don't necessarily encourage their kid, they don't discourage it either. As long as they get away with it, then it's all ok. Meanwhile, they are pretty confident that their kid will do well in school. They are intelligent, after all.
Say after me: Lorgar's kid is homeschooled. Personally interviews each tutor to make sure they are the right teacher for his little miracle. Will listen in on the lessons and then act surprised when his kid tells him how they went. There's a lot of philosophical discussions about WHAT they learned. Lorgar does recognize that his kid needs to meet other children and lets some of the serf's children join in on the lessons.
Horus spends a long time thinking about it, considering the pros and cons to both regular school and homeschooling, before he eventually ends up choosing homeschooling. He just thinks it's better for his kid to have tutors focused solely on them. Keeps walking in on lessons and ask both the tutor and his kid how they're doing. Sometimes ends up taking over the lesson if he thinks he can explain something better than the teacher.
Konrad is torn. On one hand he doesn't want to send his kid out into the big world (it's dangerous out there!) but he also doesn't want to invite a stranger into his home and let them get close to his child. Eventually settles for a tutor. ONE tutor. That he keeps a close eye on. Doesn't really care if his kid is doing well and keeping up to the curriculum. He doesn't care if they are a lil stupid, as long as they are happy and safe. Does, however, feel really proud if they show him their good work.
Like Magnus, Sanguinius initially has his child taught by personal tutors and then, when they are older, sends them to school so they can interact with other children. Very interested in their school-life. Are they making friends? Are they having fun? How are the teachers? And their classmates, are they getting along with them? Are they keeping up with the lessons? Makes sure that his kid knows they can always come to him if they have any material from school they want help with or want him to explain.
Corvus feels a bit guilty for not sending his kid to regular school because he doesn't want to isolate them. At the same time, he can't help but feel like it's better for them to have personal tutors and be homeschooled instead. Of course, if his kid at any point makes it clear that they WANT to go to regular school then Corvus will allow it. He really only wants his kid to be happy. Not very demanding when it comes to how well they do in school but he does want them to do their best. That's all he expects.
You think Ferrus would settle for any school in the Imperium? Nah. Dude takes one look at the curriculum and goes "Arts and crafts? Useless. My child is going to actually learn something of value" and then contact the Mechanicus and ask to borrow a few magos to tutor his kid. But it's not going to be all theoretical. No, Ferrus is going to put all those lesson to the test and push his kid through exercises where they gotta use that knowledge to get out of mazes and shit. Here, solve this mathematical equation, the room explodes in five minutes (it won't, he's just want to encourage them to do their best).
Rogal takes the education of his child very seriously. Knows the curriculum inside out, probably helped make it because, yeah, his kid is getting homeschooled. Asks his kid how they are doing even though he already knows because he's keeping such a close eye on their lesson plans and the notes the tutors leave. Does expect his kid to study diligently but his expectations are realistic. He also makes it clear to them how important it is to rest and exercise. Wants his child to have a balanced life.
Vulkan's kid would definitely go to school. He'd want them to experience a somewhat normal childhood and for them to socialize with children their own age. And yeah, he wants them to do well in school but if they need extra help then he can get them that, he mainly wants them to make friends. The kind of parent that keeps asking their kid when he's going to meet their school friends and attends all the events (if he's not busy with war or something). It's actually a tad overbearing. He's a bit too involved. It PTA still existed then he'd be there every week.
Lion decides to have his child taught by personal tutors, a couple of scholars that he did extensive background research on and is pretty confident can be trusted with his child's education. Tries to not be too involved, doesn't want his child to become too dependent on him, but he does keep an eye on their curriculum and how they are doing in their lessons. Also very high expectations on them but doesn't say this outright, since he expects his child to understand that he expects them to focus on their lessons.
Leman sends his kid to school. Go on, get out there and rub elbows with the other kids! Now, Leman actually it's important that his kid gets a good education and demands that they do their best in class. But he also tells them to have fun. Get in trouble! Make your voice heard and show them who you are! Mostly sees school as a way for his kid to gain some independence, to become more of their own person. Will loudly and proudly celebrate if they come back from school with good grades. Yah, his pup is so smart!
As for Jaghatai, I believe he would also send his child to school. Like Russ, it would be for them to grow as an individual and to meet new people who can expand their worldview. Does expect them to do well in school and to be diligent in their studies but also instills in them the value of free thought and critical thinking. School can only teach you so much, you need to know how to put that knowledge to good use and to understand it on a deeper level. Is however more interested in hearing what his kid got up to while in school.
Roboute kinda mixes the two options. His kid has a tutor, yeah, but they are taught alongside a smaller group of other kids their age. It's not really a regular school but it's not homeschooling either. Very, very involved in their education and tells them that while he knows they can only do their best, that he knows they can do great things if they just put their mind to it. The kind of parent to talk very proudly of his kid's academic achievements, even if they are still very small.
#warhammer 40k#roboute guilliman#konrad curze#lion el'jonson#rogal dorn#perturabo#sanguinius#jaghatai khan#ferrus manus#fulgrim#magnus#lorgar aurelian#horus lupercal#vulkan#leman russ#mortarion#angron#corvus corax#alpharius omegon
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when he finds out you're sick through the internet
A/N: idol!au. OC is also a celebrity though I don't explicitly say what. tiny teensy angst bc cheol is a worried Boyfriend💔 1.5k words! another random word vomits bc that's the only way i know how to write now lol idk why but everytime i write this kinda fic it's always seungcheol looooooooooooooool. not proofread, but enjoy!
[part 2]
Seungcheol doesn't really get angry.
For the three years you've known him in which you've dated him for two, you've only seen him actually get angry a total number of three times. None of them was directed at you, and all of them are for reasons that you would've exploded upon way before he did.
Seungcheol is patient and rational.
Seungcheol is normally patient and rational.
But he's never normal when it comes to you. And even though the patient bit still stands, nothing about his feelings towards you is ever rational. He's a little too emotional, a little too rash, and a little too worrisome when it comes to your wellbeing.
So when he's relaxing in the practice room during a break with his members, for once not on his phone because he's charging it somewhere on one of the tables, and he hears Seungkwan gasps a little upon his phone, he thinks there's another scandal blowing up upon the industry. But when the younger guy's blown out eyes meet him, colors drained from his face, Seungcheol hates that he knew it could mean one thing: something happened to you.
He shoots up almost immediately, not registering any words that come out of Seungkwan's mouth. His hands shake a little when he unlocks his phone, and his heart drops when he reads the official post from your company's twitter account that states your current condition, that you might need to pause your activities for the time being due to health reasons, apologizes for the worries, and asks for the fans' understanding.
He wants to get angry.
At who, he’s not sure.
At your company, for pushing you even though they know your schedule is practically inhumane? At your manager, for not making sure that you have decent rest in between schedules? At you, because he’s been telling you to fucking stop running towards whatever goal you have in mind but you insist that you know your limit and you’ll know when to stop?
Apparently, no you fucking don’t because else this wouldn’t have happened.
The rest of the members look at him in worry, and Jeonghan silently walks to their manager and the other staff to let them know about the situation at hand, that Seungcheol would probably not be in his best state to continue practice at the moment. The leader would probably insist that they continue anyway, but they’ve practiced for almost five hours already anyway and they could spare an hour or two for the leader when it’s clear that he’s worried beyond measure.
Seungcheol bites his lip as he tries to call you, his concern skyrocketing by the seconds the longer the beeping sound goes, no sign of you picking it up. He tries one more time, but you still don’t answer and he’s about to hurl his phone at the wall when your manager calls him instead, tells him that he sees his name flashing on your phone, informs your whereabouts, and that he should just drop by your place in a few hours if he wants to see you because right now you’re still sleeping in the car and he’s taking you home.
He finds it hard to say anything, a lump growing in his throat until he manages to swallow it down and ask how you’re doing right now.
“She’s… exhausted.” Your manager says quietly. “I know it’s my job to take care of her but… you know her. She didn’t tell me that she’s been having a hard time sleeping at night the past few weeks and it finally took a toll on her.”
It’s hard to suppress his anger, his breath heavier than usual though it’s not too noticeable unless they know Seungcheol. He wants to scream at your manager, but he knows it won’t do anyone any good and it’s really not the time nor the place for that. So he mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ before he hangs up, his members looking at him with a mix of worry and understanding when he looks up at them.
“Go.” Soonyoung says. “We’ve practiced enough today. Take care of your girlfriend and tell us later.”
Seungcheol nods and sprints out of the room, beyond thankful that his members always have his back.
Seungcheol is glaring at you when you wake up, though the way his thumb is still softly caressing your head and the worry in his eyes clearly tell you that his anger is nowhere near his distress.
You offer him a weak smile, unable to defend yourself because you know what his eyes are scolding you for.
“Sorry?” You whisper and immediately cringe at how dry your throat feels.
He doesn’t say anything as he helps you sit down and hands you your favorite mug. Taking in the moment, you frown at how weak you feel, though you really only have yourself to blame because you genuinely thought you’re okay and you can take it.
You know it’s on you for taking as many schedules as possible, practically everything that your company offers you even when your manager says he doesn’t think it’s physically possible for you to do all that in such a short span.
Thinking about it now, you realize that your manager and the rest of your team also gets the short end of the stick through your decision. Him, your make up team, and your stylists would all need to be with you and your ambition forgets to consider their wellbeing even when you wrongly claim you would be able to handle it.
Guilt starts to eat you inside out, and it grows even larger as you see Seungcheol in front of you–didn’t he say he had practice today?–his face screams distressed and his shoulders tense since God knows when.
“Hey, talk to me.” He says softly when he notices you’ve been spacing out and you’re nibbling on your lip like you would when you’re anxious, taking away your mug before enveloping your hands with his.
You tear up almost immediately, and he moves to sit on the edge of your bed to usher you into his chest, patiently listens to your nonsense as you try to talk through your tears. He gets the gist of it: sorry–manager–company–wellbeing–my team–didn’t think it through–made you worry–overestimated myself–sorry–and the list goes on. He exhales as he hugs you tighter, both understanding and upset at the turns of events.
Being in the same industry, he gets what you’re trying to do, understands that you feel the need to keep on running while you’re able to, relates that you’re doing everything for yourself and your fans. But still, it’s hard not to be upset to know you’re pushing yourself too hard when he’s been telling you there’s no need to run as fast as you are without resting; that you’ll only hurt yourself one way or another and he hates that the one time he needs to be right, it’s this.
You end up laying down against his chest on your bed, hiccups and sniffles filling your bedroom along with a random song he’s humming against your head. You pull away to properly look at him, the first time you’re doing it since you woke up earlier, and his hum stops in question.
“Thank you.” You manage to whisper, your fingers grasping the front of his shirt without even realizing. “For being here when I woke up.”
He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand why you’re thanking him, simply leans down to plant a long, chaste kiss against your forehead before he pulls up your blanket so it’ll cover you properly.
“Just… don’t surprise me like that again, okay?” His breath is warm against your face, pleasantly so, and you nod as you promise him that you’ll take better care of yourself moving forward.
“Are you staying the night?”
“Yes, I’ll return to the dorm the day after tomorrow. They’ve given me a day off.” You cringe at his words, though thankful that he’s been in the industry long enough to attain that kind of privilege. But still, you feel bad that you’re obstructing his practice and his members just because you’re foolish enough to– “Hey. Stop. I know what you’re thinking. No need to feel bad. I’m actually glad I get to rest with you.”
“But–”
“No buts. The kids can do without me for a day.” He playfully bumps his forehead against yours, his lips hover above yours merely centimeters apart. He doesn’t meet your lips, though he kisses their corner sweetly and wraps you back into his embrace to the point where there’s no space between you two. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Good night, Cheol.”
“Night, baby.”
“See you in my dream?”
“I’ll see you anywhere you want me to be.”
He hugs you tighter, and you try your best to return the gesture despite the awkward position of your arms. It’s uncomfortable and you’re sure your arms will be sore the next morning.
But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when you succumb to sleep and find Seungcheol smiling at you on the other side of your dream, as real as he can be.
cont.
#seventeen scenarios#seungcheol scenarios#seungcheol imagines#scoups fluff#seungcheol oneshot#seungcheol fluff#seventeen fluff#seventeen fic#seventeen scenario#seventeen au#seungcheol angst#seventeen angst#scoups angst#seventeen imagines#scoups scenarios#scoups imagines
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Please read! THIS IS IMPORTANT!!!
IMPORTANT AGAIN! DON'T ENGAGE WITH THIS PERSON OR TRY TO TALK WITH THEM! THEY'RE A MINOR ^^! DON'T DOXX THIS PERSON MENTIONED BELOW!
Trigger Warning: This post contains strong language and frustration about minors lying about their age to access 18+ content and the unfair blame placed on adults and creators.
I’m really sorry if this gets intense, but sometimes things just build up, you know? I’m frustrated about how much this keeps happening and how it’s not being taken seriously. Please read with caution if you're sensitive to this kind of topic.
The importance of ensuring minors do not interact with explicitly adult content, such as The Kid at the Back (TKATB), cannot be overstated. When creators like @/fantasia-kitt explicitly state that their work is for an 18+ audience, it’s crucial to respect these boundaries for several key reasons:
Adult content is created with themes, language, and scenarios intended for a mature audience capable of understanding and processing these elements responsibly. Minors engaging with such material may not have the emotional or intellectual maturity to do so, which can lead to misunderstandings, misinterpretations, or even harm.
Exposure to adult themes, such as graphic violence, sexual content, or intense psychological elements, can be overwhelming for younger audiences. This could lead to anxiety, confusion, or distress if the themes are too complex or mature for their developmental stage.
When creators like @/fantasia-kitt specify their content is for adults only, it's both a legal and moral boundary. Ignoring this can undermine the creator's efforts to responsibly share their work and may even put their platform at risk.
On platforms discussing or promoting adult content, there’s an increased risk of predators targeting minors. By staying away from such spaces, minors can better protect themselves.
Without the proper tools or knowledge, minors may misunderstand mature topics and spread misinformation or harmful ideas.
Many regions have strict laws regarding minors accessing adult content. Violating these can have legal repercussions for both the minors and the creators or platforms hosting such content.
When creators clearly say “MINORS DO NOT INTERACT,” they’re not joking. They’re drawing a line to keep you and their community safe. By ignoring that, you’re not just disrespecting their work—you’re putting them at risk for potential backlash or legal issues.
Lying about your age doesn’t make you “cool” or “grown up.” In fact, it does the opposite—it shows you’re insecure and unwilling to wait for experiences that you’re not yet ready for.
By sneaking into spaces that aren’t meant for you, you’re making it harder for creators and adults to maintain safe, designated environments. You’re also putting yourself at risk, even if you think you’re being “sneaky.”
Yes, it’s the internet, and people get exposed to things quickly. But just because some exposure is inevitable doesn’t mean you have free reign to consume whatever you want. There's a difference between accidentally encountering something and actively seeking it out when you know it’s not for you.
Why You Should Wait Until You’re 18:
Waiting isn’t the end of the world. It’s temporary, and the content will still be there when you’re of age.
Adult content has themes and elements that are designed for a specific level of maturity. Waiting ensures you can fully appreciate and understand it.
For creators, communities, and yourself. Respect the hard work that goes into making safe spaces for people and understand that not everything is for everyone all the time.
The below evidence containing screenshots by given by @papsthepepsota
Why am I talking about? Recently in a fan-server for Tkatb.
They're the same user that wont stop tryn get adults to do sexual roleplay while being a minor!! Simple, They want to rp! Not just simple, Smut rp! ss belongs to @/papsthepepsota again
This was their id!
This person below the ss is my friend and they agreed to share this!
Just turned 18! Sorry! They lied.
Also Found their twitter which says
Clearly you can see, In the ss with my friend they mentioned "Just turned 18"
But in Twitter, As of now We don't know what their tumblr is. The ss belongs to @/papsthepepsota
Again, don't harass this person mentioned, Gotta say that too.!
It’s beyond infuriating when adults and creators get blamed for minors sneaking into 18+ spaces instead of holding those minors or their guardians accountable. The rules are clearly laid out—games like The Kid at the Back (TKATB) and 14 Days with You (14DWY) AND YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL are labeled 18+ ONLY for a reason. Yet when minors lie about their age, ignore these boundaries, and face the consequences of consuming content they shouldn’t, the blame gets unfairly shifted onto the creators or adults in these spaces. It’s absolutely bullshit.
The creators of games like TKATB and 14DWY have gone out of their way to clearly label their content as adult-only. They’ve set boundaries, made disclaimers, and warned repeatedly—yet somehow, the blame falls on them when minors sneak in? It’s ridiculous. What more can creators or adults do when the responsibility should be on minors and their guardians to respect those labels?
Every time a minor lies about their age, sneaks into adult spaces, and gets exposed to something they weren’t supposed to, it’s the creator who gets attacked for “not protecting children.” News flash: It’s not the creator’s job to babysit. They’ve done their part by labeling their content. Parents and guardians need to step up and monitor what their kids are doing online.
It’s so frustrating to hear people blame the adult community for minors lying their way into restricted spaces. Like, how is that our fault? Why should adults feel guilty for enjoying content that’s meant for them because a minor decided to be sneaky? It’s not the adults’ responsibility to police minors who shouldn’t even be there in the first place.
This doesn’t just happen with these games it’s a widespread issue across adult content on the internet. Creators can put up as many warnings as they want, but if minors refuse to follow them, the system fails. And then the adults get blamed for simply existing in their own spaces.
Adults have the right to enjoy adult content without worrying about minors invading these spaces and causing drama. Creators like those behind TKATB and 14DWY AND YOUR GUARDIN ANGEL pour their hearts into making content for an adult audience, only to get unfairly criticized when minors break the rules. It’s demoralizing and unfair.
Teach Respect for Boundaries: Minors need to understand that boundaries aren’t suggestions—they’re rules meant to protect them. Waiting until you’re 18 to access certain content isn’t impossible, and it teaches patience, self-control, and respect.
It’s so sad and infuriating that adults are constantly blamed for minors lying about their age and breaking into 18+ spaces. This isn’t on the creators or the adult fans—it’s on the people who refuse to enforce the rules and the minors who ignore them. Games like TKATB and 14DWY and even YGA (Your-guardian angel) are labeled 18+ for a reason. If minors can’t respect that, the fault lies with them and their guardians, not the adults just trying to enjoy what was made for them.
Creators like @/fantasia-kitt and @/14dayswithyou and others like @/your-guardian-angel-is-trans work hard to ensure their content is clearly marked for adults only. They’ve drawn the line, and it’s there for a reason. Lying about your age to cross that boundary is not okay. It’s disrespectful, selfish, and immature. If you’re not 18, stay out of these spaces, respect the rules, and wait your turn—it’s really not that hard.
Other creators has spoken about this too!
@/papsthepepsota
https://x.com/PapsThePepsota/status/1863620166359138445
@/kazueisaloser
https://x.com/kazueisaloser/status/1864840476798652589
https://bsky.app/profile/kazueisaloser.bsky.social/post/3lcm2qb3xgk2j
FINAL THOUGHTS
Final thoughts? This shit is exhausting. Us adults just wanna enjoy content made FOR US, but nooo, some minors gotta lie about their age, sneak in, and ruin it for everyone. Then we’re the ones who get blamed? Like, how is it our fault when the creator put up clear 18+ ONLY warnings everywhere? It’s so sad and honestly pathetic that people can’t control their kids or themselves at times like this.
It’s not impossible to wait until you’re 18 to play these games. Just WAIT. Stop lying about your age like you’re grown—it doesn’t make you mature, it makes you part of the problem. It’s not just TKATB—it’s 14 Days with You, it’s every adult content space out there. We’re tired of it. Respect the creators, respect the boundaries, and for god’s sake, stop blaming adults for the actions of lying minors.
Get it together. Respect the rules or stay out. Simple as that.
Honestly, it’s just wild how people can’t respect the boundaries set by creators. They literally put “18+ ONLY” for a reason, and yet we still have minors trying to sneak in. It’s beyond frustrating. Why are we, the adults, getting blamed for their actions? It’s not like we’re asking for anything unreasonable. We’re just trying to enjoy the content that was made for us. But somehow, we’re the ones being attacked when minors are the ones breaking the rules.
It’s so easy to just wait. The content will still be there when you’re old enough. No one’s stopping you from enjoying it later. But lying about your age just to bypass the system is honestly disrespectful—not only to the creator but to everyone who follows the rules. And don’t try to play the “it’s the internet, you get exposed to stuff quickly” card. That doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want and ignore boundaries. We all know how dangerous social media can be, but that’s even more of a reason to be careful about what spaces you enter.
Creators and adults shouldn’t have to bear the weight of someone else’s negligence. It’s on the minors and their guardians to respect these spaces, not on the rest of us. At the end of the day, if you’re not 18, stay the hell out of adult content. Simple as that. No one’s asking for perfection, but damn, it’s not that hard to just wait your turn.
I’m sorry for being so frustrated, but honestly, it’s hard not to be when people constantly disrespect boundaries that have been clearly set. It’s exhausting to see adults getting blamed for something that isn’t their fault, especially when minors lie about their age and break rules just to get access to content they shouldn’t be in. I just don’t understand why people can’t respect that. But yeah, I know I’m venting a lot right now, and I’m sorry if it came off too harsh. Just really needed to get that off my chest.
#the kid at the back vn#tkatb#visual novel#14 days with you ren#14dwy ren#14dwy#your guardian angel#visualnovel#yn-vn#14 days with you#yandere vn#yandere visual novel#tkatb vn
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Having so many thoughts about how the casting of Tom Blyth as a conventionally attractive man and his changing looks throughout the film actually demonstrate how much the directors intended for him not to be thirsted over -- and what thirsting over him at this point says about the audience.
I mean, if you're given a pretty face, like Coryo is said to have also in the books, you can get away with a lot because not many people are quick to scorn you. It's the fault of Greek philosophy most likely, but it's been thought for so long that physical beauty equates moral and ethical soundness. He has beautiful, absolutely gorgeous curls in the first two parts of the movie (and book), he's explicitly described as lovely and pretty, and many of the women in his life trust him until he reveals his motivations at the end.
The removing of the curls, I think, was not just about the military. It was about removing some of that beautiful mask and costume Coryo moves through the world in, chipping away, so that people began to see just how corrupt he was when they weren't blinded by his charms and he got too caught up after thinking he had their unwavering trust.
Coryo is the games. He makes himself a mystery wrapped in pretty things, surrounded by pretty people, to lure others in and distract from the snake he is underneath. Literally from Shakespeare's Macbeth "serpent 'neath the flower" (paraphrasing, I can't remember the precise wording for underneath and what not). The presence of roses on his character is even more fitting then, not just to disguise the scent of blood, poison, and mouth sores later on, but to give people a false sense of security, to please them, to charm them so they don't notice the snake coiling around them and preparing to bite.
Just like the characters, when the audience thirsts over this younger Snow, they are falling right into a trap. He does not love, he wants the control over people. He enjoys the manipulation. He would sooner kill you to protect himself no matter if you're his lover. The directors, Collins herself too, they're laughing or perhaps just wearily sighing over an audience that does not understand when they are being targeted. Snow wants to be admired. When an audience admires him and overlooks all the bad, it's a commentary about them and the way our society favours beauty over goodness. The way some will roll over and offer their necks to the knife just because it wears a pretty face and it manipulated them into sympathising.
Snow is dangerous. The thirst traps and edits, good as they are for a handsome man like Tom Blyth, are exactly what the Capitol would do for Snow. What he would encourage in theory. He's the snake underneath the flowers. And the audience of both the games and The Hunger Games franchise, is once again ignorant to what their behaviour means. Successful manipulation of a group.
How scary would that be if it happened in real politics with slightly different methods?
#the hunger games#a ballad of songbirds and snakes#coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow analysis#tbosas movie and book#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#ballad of songbirds and snakes#hunger games
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Adam x Bratty!fem!reader
Reader is afab/female, explicitly used
Established relationship; you're Adam's wife
Summary: Y/n has started popping off to everyone lately, but mostly to Lute and Adam, which has caused a few scenes. Sera warned them to get their act together before she has to intervene. Adam thinks he knows just the thing to reel Y/n back in.
Minors DO NOT INTERACT! 18+ ONLY
Explicit content under the cut!
Warnings: Adam, lots of cursing, brief Dom!Lute, mentions of guitarspear if you squint, vague mentions of Lute x reader if you squint, Dom!Adam, Brat!reader, soft!Adam, BDSM/bondage, wing kink, thigh riding, edging, orgasm denial, slight praise kink?, you get used, idk what else you want me to say, there's some fluff in the midst; Adam fucks you senselessly into submission for being a brat, idk if there's more warnings. It's over 10k, I've lost track now.
Word count: 10,792
Make Me
(Not my gif, pulled from Google. If it's yours please lmk and I'll edit to credit!)
“The fuck you looking at, Saint Peter? Do I need to get Adam? Move,” you growl, shoving past the poor angel as you head towards the training grounds for the exterminators. Saint Peter looks after you, rubbing his wing where your own clipped his, sending a worried look after you before flying off to who knows where.
You slam open the doors, spreading your wings and launching yourself at the first exorcist you see. She is coming up to greet you, hand out for a handshake, when you grab it and fly up. Ignoring the startled scream from her, you try to keep steady as you twist, somersaulting a couple of times, and sling her towards a group of other exorcists headed right for you. They try to stop the one you sent flying at them, their wings tangling. You watch as they all plummet, hitting the ground with a harsh thud.
“Y/n!” Lute's voice has you turning to face your lieutenant. You smirk and bow your head slightly, wings twitching just the slightest as you hover and land before her.
“Lieutenant,” you grin, walking around her, wings partially folding behind you as you circle her. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your attention?” Sarcasm drips from your words. You rest your hands on your hips and watch as she turns with you, her eyes never leaving you.
“This isn't your normal behavior. What's gotten into you? Have you forgotten that we're all a team? We work together as one, and when you break that uniformity, it creates chaos,” Lute glares, voice cold as she approaches, her own wings stretching out. You know you're her subordinate, but you can't help taking the bait she's dropping. Her wings fully spread and you take the opportunity to taunt her.
“What's the matter? Don't like the fact I'm more brazen? I thought you said I needed to be more like you,” you snip, fully extending your wings as a show of defiance to her dominant display. Her eyes narrow and you both move quickly, flying towards each other. However, in your senseless agitation, you forget that Lute is your superior, in both ability and technicality. She easily gets the upper hand and wrestles you onto the ground, pinning your wings to your sides and you to the ground.
“You seem to be forgetting your place,” Lute warns, her tone sharp and hinting at something else you don't quite catch. The group of angels you sent in a heap arrive, all talking over one another to try and tell Lute what happened. She silences them with a look, not moving from atop her perch on you. “Hush! I saw what she did. Don't worry, Adam and I will be dealing with her,” she dismisses the group with a wave of her hand. Only once they're gone does she let you up, one hand gripping the base of one of your wings tightly, forcing you to back up to the side of the building as she extends her wings, making herself look bigger. You bite your tongue at the feel of her hand in your feathers, walking back until she has you pinned, your own wings shrinking and folding as best they can with a hand in the way.
“What now? You've got me alone? Why don't you just beat me and be done?” You snap, glaring at her boots. She steps into your space, forcing you to look at her. You press yourself back to the wall, irritation written on your face.
“You've got some nerve! You're lucky that you're one of the best I've trained. And you're even more lucky that Adam has a soft spot for you, otherwise I'd leave you broken on this fucking ground,” the lieutenant growls, twisting the hand she's got on your wing ever so slightly. Something crossed between a yelp and a moan escapes you as she pushes against you. “Since you think you can just barrel over anyone, you're going to be waking up extra early with me to do drills. We start tomorrow.” With that, she releases the hold on your wing, keeping hers flared behind her, before taking off. You hear her call for the ones training today. With a mocking snort, you take flight and leave the training grounds, deciding to be anywhere else but near Lute.
“Stupid Lute yelling at me. I didn't do anything. Why's she gotta take her anger out on me,” you grumble, landing back on the promenade. You know that's a lie, you're being a brat, but it's not your fault, you reason. You fold your wings, tucking them under your arms as a habit you adopted from Adam. “Fucking tell me I've gotta do early morning shit. Fuck her, she's not the boss of me,” you continue to rant to yourself, completely missing the golden winged angel. His eyes widen as he watches you storm by, none the wiser to his presence. He glowers before white wings cover his face, momentarily confusing him and turning him around.
“Whoa! Sera! I thought we agreed you wouldn't fucking sneak up on me again!” Adam says, looking up at the seraphim. She crosses her arms as she meets his eye.
“Adam, get your subordinate back in line. She is being rude to the other angels and if this behavior of hers continues, I will be forced to intervene. Saint Peter is not the first to have a complaint with Y/n and her behavior,” Sera warns, watching as Adam turns to watch you. Sure enough, you're shoving others aside, using your wings to try and create more space around you as you walk.
“Yeah yeah! I'll go get her! No need to jump down my throat, that's my job!” Adam dismisses Sera, crouching lightly as he spreads his wings. Sera grabs his wrist, stopping him.
“I'm serious, Adam. Reign Y/n back in or I will have to pull her from the extermination team and move her elsewhere. And if she doesn't calm down there, well, let's not let it get that far,” Sera releases him, turning to greet Emily who is flying up with two ice cream cones. Adam, unfortunately, loses sight of you in the time Sera is talking to him. He groans and heads to find Lute.
Lute is sparring with five exorcists at once, pointing out their flaws as she takes each one down. Adam, not particularly keen on getting a sprained wing again, waits out of the way until she notices him and dismisses them to work without her.
“Sir?” his lieutenant questions, wings folding behind her as she walks up to him.
“Have you seen Y/n? Sera's bitching ‘bout her. Something ‘bout she's being mean or some fucking shit. I wasn't really paying attention,” he admits, shrugging as they walk back out the training facility. Lute smirks at his typical behavior.
“Yeah. She came here earlier and assaulted some of the others. Sera is right though. Y/n was deliberately being disobedient,” she reluctantly agrees with the seraphim about you. To be fair, normally you'd go straight to Lute for a good, challenging spar, so to go after some of the younger and less experienced exorcists was a dick move on your part. Adam sighs and groans, glancing down at his lieutenant.
“Hey, Lute~”
“No.”
“What the hell, you don't even know what I was gonna fucking ask!”
“I know you. I don't need to know what you were going to ask.” Adam just stares at her for a moment, his mask switching to a deadpan expression. It quickly switches back to his usual, cocky smirk.
“Oh yeah? If you're so smart, what was it along the lines of then, Dangertits?”
“You were thinking of having me deal with Y/n instead of you, Sir.”
“Don't say it with such confidence. Bitch,” he throws in the last word as an afterthought, realizing she pegged him pretty well. She stopped and turned to face him, brow raised in question.
“So am I wrong?”
“Shut up. No. Let's just fucking go,” he grumbles, spreading his wings and flapping twice to get into the air. Lute smirks and follows silently. She might be his subordinate, but they both know she's right more often than not.
They finally find you at the local barbecue pit, in the reserved section. Reserved for him, Lute, and you. Lute looks up at Adam, wings folding behind her as she waits for his orders. “C'mon, Dangertits,” he mutters, making his way to you. You don't bother looking up when you're sandwiched between two bodies. The familiar touching of wings against yours immediately tells you it's Adam and Lute. You flip them off and continue eating your plate of ribs.
“Umm excuse the fuck outta you, Sugartits. You have some damn nerve acting like you're so fucking high and mighty all of a sudden. The fuck's got your panties in a twist?” Adam reaches over you and takes a rib, expertly dodging the fork you try to stab him with. Lute remains quiet, eyeing you as you glare at Adam, dropping the fork.
“None of your fucking business. And get your own damn plate of ribs, asshole,” you bite out, wings shifting in annoyance. Adam grins and reaches for another rib, holding your gaze while he does so.
“Fucking make me,” he retorts, grabbing the rib you start to reach for. Your eyes narrow, wings fluffing up fully behind you.
“You fucking absolute prick. What the hell is wrong with you?! I said to leave me the fuck alone. I was eating alone just fine until you two showed up,” you yell, drawing unwanted attention and eyes towards the three of you. You let your wings lift you from between your superiors, glaring down at them. “Stop fucking following me!” You leave the duo with your half eaten plate as well as the bill, hands clenched at your sides as you fly out the doors.
Emily finds you on a cloud, well away from everyone. She flies into your vision, giving you a warm smile. You can't help but return it. No matter how mad you were, Emily always seemed to make you want to smile and try to be happy for her sake. She was like a little sister to you after all. You gesture to another cloud beside the one you're on, letting your wings fluff out in contentment. Emily accepts your silent invitation. Heaven's sun warms your wings as you sit in peaceful silence with the young seraphim. It doesn't last long though. You feel Emily's eyes on you and you know she has something she wants to say.
“Everyone's worried about you, you know. Sera's worried that you're going to fall. Adam and Lute….they're worried something is wrong. Something like you don't want to be here, in Heaven, anymore. Saint Peter also said to let you know he wants to see you when you get the chance,” the seraphim rambles, one of her hands finding yours. You allow her to link your fingers, listening to her. Yeah, you have been a little shit lately, you know that. There was only one person who could help and he was still as clueless as ever. Adam. Well, that's not true. Lute could most definitely help too, you just preferred if it were Adam.
“I promise I'm fine, Em. You can tell Sera that I'll be okay. I'm just….going through something,” you grin, swinging your joined hands. “But, for you, I'll try and not cause any more trouble.” You mean every word. You don't want to give Sera a reason to cast you out. You actually like it here in Heaven. Hell, you even like your misogynistic, egotistical, dumbass husband. Why, you don't know, but there's just something about him that draws you in and keeps you coming back for more. He'd definitely say it was because he's the Original Dick.
“Eee! I know she'll be happy to hear that! I'm gonna go tell her you're okay! Okay? Bye!” Emily lurches forward to give you a hug before racing off to find her older sister. You let out a chuckle at the young seraphim's antics. For someone at least a millennia old, she still had a childish air about her. It was refreshing, a nice change of pace from her older sister, Sera.
Your peaceful mood doesn't last too long. You remember Lute telling you that you have to be up early for extra training due to your outburst earlier. Honestly, you know you can't blame anyone but yourself, but that doesn't mean that you like it. With a defeated sigh, you make your way back to your house.
You slam the door to your home, grumbling and cursing Lute and several other angels. In your anger, you completely miss two angels in your kitchen. Adam and Lute watch you pace in your living room, wings fluttering about. They have a silent conversation before Adam's smiling and Lute is trying her best not to, shaking her head. Finally, the light from your kitchen catches your eye.
“What the hell? I can't go out without running into you and now I can't even be in my own fucking place?!” You groan, feathers floating around you as your wings puff up in your annoyance. Adam smirks, lacing his fingers and folding his hands, resting his chin on them as he watches you.
“Babes, this is our house, not just yours,” he corrects you without hesitation, watching as you shake your feathers and fold your wings. Lute watches you both, only here to act as the middleman if needed to separate a fight. You turn your back to them and head back to the couch, falling face first onto it.
“Fuck off. I'm so sick of seeing your ugly mug,” you snarl, head turned to the side so they can hear you. Adam turns to Lute, nodding to the door. She gives him a look, but he shoos her as he gets up, making his way to you.
“Adam, I don't think-”
“Lute, just go. I can fucking handle this. I think I know just the fucking thing to correct her attitude,” a grin appears on Adam's mask, a ripple running through his wings as he pushes his chair back. You fluff your wings, letting them sprawl, one hanging off the back of the couch and the other dangling on the floor. Lute doesn't offer any further complaints, just opens the door and gives him a look before shutting it behind her.
“Go away, Adam,” you huff, feeling his presence hovering over you. You crack an eye open to see his face inches from your own, mask discarded somewhere. You yelp in surprise at the proximity, your wings flapping frantically to help you pull back and away from him. His grin widens as he slowly stalks towards you, his golden wings unfurling and shaking out behind him.
“You've been rather busy the last couple weeks huh? Been fucking with me and Lute and raising hell up here. Care to enlighten me as to why?” His gold eyes narrow as you search for a way around Adam or out of reach of him and his wings. You know he will use his wings to pull you close if you get too close.
“N-no. I haven't,” you lie poorly, slowly crawling backwards on the couch, and off the far side over the arm. You both stare at each other as your feet land on the cool hardwood flooring. A subtle flutter of his wings has you turning and darting down the hall, wings helping as you try to keep out of Adam's reach, hoping to get to the bedroom before he reaches you.
“You're such a shit liar,” he snorts at you, catching up to you quickly. You don't stop to see how close he is, you don't need to. You can feel his feathers brush against yours just before they fully envelope you.
“Adam!” You squeak out as his arms wrap you in a tight hug, face burying in the crook of your neck. Trying to steel your resolve and not break from such a small interaction, you use your wings to push against his, earning a chuckle from him.
“S'matter, Babe~? Need something?” His sharp teeth nip at your neck and it takes all of your willpower to not cave and moan at the sensation. The feel of his chin stubble combined with his teeth make your knees weak. Thankfully you have wings that help keep you balanced.
“Not from you,” you manage to scoff, still trying to get out of his grip, though your attempts are more feeble with each bite to your shoulders. In the small power scuffle, Adam has managed to walk you to your bedroom, nudging the door open fully with his wing.
“Mm, don't fucking be like that. I came all the way here from work just to help you,” he growls in your ear, voice dropping as he talks. You pause in your escape attempts, a chill running up your spine and through your wings. Adam doesn't miss the shaking of your feathers at his words, gold eyes glinting in the setting light filtering in through the window. He quickly takes advantage of your lack of fight, easily hefting you into his arms bridal style, letting your wings free of his hold. You blink up at him, arms instinctively going around his neck.
“Bullshit. Your head is too far up your own ass to care about me,” you sneer at him, grabbing his collar and pulling it tight so it comes close to choking him. He grins and leans his face closer to you, nuzzling his forehead against yours.
“I'm gonna make you eat your fucking words, Babe,” he mutters. He tosses you onto the bed after breaking your hold on his collar. His wings stay spread, displaying his dominance to and over you.
You turn to him, on your knees, and spread your own wings in defiance. You grin smugly at him, crossing your arms as he makes no moves to change your mind. When he does move, you don't see him. He turns you around faster than you expect. It's easy to pin you, and when he moves to grab something from under the bed, he keeps you down with his wings. You struggle under him until you feel cold metal on your wings. A gasp escapes you as Adam moves to secure your wings so they stay flared out, the metal frame locking as he puts the spines of your wings into each arm. You try to pull away, only for the metal brace to force them to stay.
“A-Adam!” You whine, realizing what kind of hole you dug for yourself. He ignores you, making sure your wings are secure before rolling you onto your back.
“You want to show disrespect to your superiors? Don't worry, I'm going to remind you of your place,” he chuckles, moving to grab something from the nightstand.
You whimper. You know you're fucked. You pushed your luck, especially with Adam, and went overboard with your bratty attitude. But fuck if this isn't what you wanted. Adam had been ignoring you after all. He was always ‘too busy’ with work. Maybe you were jealous of the time he spent with Lute, not like you should be, you knew their relationship, but it did bug you sometimes. Especially when you're his wife. You're aware and more than ok with the swing style relationship you both share with Lute. It was something you accepted readily when you met her after a date with Adam. There was hardly ever one without the other, no matter which way you looked at it.
“You're going to be begging me to stop before I'm through with you. I'm going to make sure you don't forget where you belong for a long time,” Adam's voice brings you back to the present. You look up at him, not daring to move from where he rolled you. He's sitting beside you, hand on one of your knees, hiding something in his other hand. You prop yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze.
“Big talk coming from someone who's locked up my wings. What's the matter, Dickmaster? Can't put me in my place with my wings in the way?” You taunt, though there's no real bite to your words anymore. You know you're at his mercy now, but you still can't help yourself since he hasn't touched you aside from the love bites he gave you on the way to the bedroom. You watch as his hand freezes the small thumb circling on your knee. His head tilts and he pulls out a massage wand, twirling it a couple of times.
“Sounds like you need more than just this. On my knee, now!” He orders, setting the massager on the floor for now. You raise a brow at him and bat your lashes at him.
“Make. Me.”
A feral noise escapes your husband. You're dragged into his lap and stripped of your boots and pants with a snap of his fingers. His robe is also discarded from his snap, leaving him in dark jeans and a band tee shirt. Your wings try to move, but the bar keeps them locked in place. The most you're able to do is shift the feathers slightly.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
The sting from Adam's hand connecting with your ass pulls a startled yelp from you. Your body shivers and goosebumps appear on your arms and legs. You try to kick and get out of his lap, but his hold on you tightens.
“Want to try that again, Bitch?”
“Y-yes… Make me, Dickmaster.”
Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!
You try to stifle your moan by biting your fist, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet. You hear him tsk and see his shadow shaking his head at you.
“Nu-uh, that's not a good little bitch. What do we say?” He teases, grabbing your free hand and clicking something around it. You recognize the feel of the metal cuffs, even if it's been a few months since they've been used. He grabs the hand you're biting, and you willingly let him pull it above your head. He holds your hand there, your other being held in place by the chain connecting the cuffs.
“Fuck.”
“Getting warmer,” he chuckles, shifting so you're sitting on his lap. “You're going to ride my thigh until you tell me, but if you cum before I say so, I'll make sure you don't get to cum for the rest of the night. Understand, Bitch?” Your heartbeat feels like it's in your ears as you nod your head, wiggling your free hand to grab his shoulder. He lets you readjust yourself, the hand holding the empty cuff taps your free hand. “Gimme.” You immediately move your hand to his, letting him fix the cuff and click it around your wrist. He moves your hands so your arms are locked around his neck, hands resting on his shoulders with the lengthy chain. His own hands roam your body, pausing at your chest to grope your breasts through your top, one continuing south to rest on your hip after he gropes your ass. “Move,” he commands.
You tense slightly before realizing what he means. You lean forward, burying your face in his neck as you begin slowly grinding on his thigh. Still feeling a bit bratty, not having your fire extinguished just yet, you gently nip at Adam's neck before biting down hard at the junction between his collarbone and neck.
“Fuck!”
You smile as best you can with your teeth clamped against his neck, sucking on the skin until you're sure it's bruising. You feel Adam's wings curl around you, radiating warmth. Your wings block his from fully enveloping you, but you feel the warmth in your wings where they touch his own. Feeling proud about your mission to mark your husband, you let go of his neck with a loud pop. Adam's hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging into your skin as he forces you to move faster on his thigh.
“You have some damn nerve being such a brat, yanno that?” He doesn't give you time to answer. He's sucking and biting a trail of hickeys along both sides of your neck, to hell with what anyone says. Once satisfied with the number he's left on you, he lets your hips go, hands trailing up your back to your wings. Your breath hitches as his hands curl tightly into the small feathers closest to your back. “Gonna have to show you where you belong. Make you understand just what happens to a brat who doesn't behave.”
“Sounds fun,” you breathe, leaning your head on your arm to look up at him, grin on your face as your halo shifts to right itself. He tilts his head down at you, gold eyes alight with something you can't quite pinpoint.
“Always gotta have the last damn word, don't cha?” He grunts, grabbing the chain connecting the cuffs and yanking it over the back of his head, holding it above him to pull you close. He drops the chain as his hand moves to grip the back of your neck, tangling in the hair there. You open your mouth to say something else smart, but he quickly covers your mouth with his own, silencing you before you can get anything out. You try to refuse when he licks your lips in an attempt to get you to open your mouth to him. He growls and tugs the hand in your hair, earning a moan from you and giving him access. He massages your wings as you kiss, only pulling away when you gently tap his shoulder, your signal you need air.
You can't process anything. From Adam's hand in your feathers, you riding his thigh, and that kiss? You feel a bit tipsy. Wanting to keep riding the high that is Adam, you lean back in for another kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair. Sensing your keen interest, he obliges you as you pull him down for another sloppy kiss, teeth clacking and tongues dancing.
“Adam, please… Don't want to ride your thigh,” you manage to squeak out, head resting on his shoulders, hands gripping his hair tightly as you grind down on his thigh.
“What's that? You don't want to?” He repeats, letting his hand untangle from your hair and trail up and down your back. He grins, and you swear his face matches his mask. “Too bad. Brats don't get what they want,” he answers, gripping your hip to keep you moving. He rocks his leg, shifting it with you so it hits just right, causing you to squirm. You whine and try to pull away with no fire in your heart, stopped by his grip, wings, and the handcuff chain. You can feel how excited he is, but you know he'd hold off just to prove a point. With another whine, you push your forehead into his collarbone. He doesn't want me to cum but wants me to ride his thigh? Fine, I'll at least follow one rule, you think, gripping his shoulders to pick up your pace on his thigh. If he wants you to ride his thigh, fine, you can do that, but you're doing it on your terms, not his. “Whoa. Ok, Sugartits, now we're talking,” Adam murmurs above you. You try to ignore him, ignore the feel of his hands on you. You don't care about him right now. He's been so mean to you! He's been too busy for you. Fuck him! You're gonna use him. Yes, you love him, but fuck him, literally and figuratively.
So focused on your own pleasure, you don't hear Adam calling for you. You're shaking your head, ears filled with the sound of your own panting. You feel the way Adam moves his leg under you, the way your wings tug against the warming metal brace, the warmth of Adam and his wings, the way you're moving in and out of sync with Adam's leg, it makes your brain fuzzy. A whine is pulled from your lips as you feel that familiar spring coiling tightly in your stomach. When did it coil like that? Surely you're not already about to come undone? Your fingers dig into his shoulders and you bite on his shoulder as your body shakes slightly uncontrollably as you reach your orgasm. You feel a rumble from Adam's chest, his hands tightening harshly on your hips as he works you through your bliss, slowing you down as your body settles from the aftershocks of your release.
“Still disobedient, I see,” you hear his voice and give a faint nod as you release his neck. You smirk at the mark before leaning back to meet his eye, eyes half lidded in ecstasy.
“Fuck you,” you manage to grumble, using the chain against the back of his neck to pull him closer. He chuckles, denying you the kiss you desperately want, he holds you still on his lap, wings unfurling from around you both and folding to his sides. The cool air sends a shiver up your spine, the chill creeping over your bare lower half. You glare then pout at him as he laughs at your expression, hands running over your legs to bring some heat back.
“I told you already, brats don't get what they want,” he reiterates, bringing one hand down hard on your rear end, making you jump. He smiles mischievously and snaps, eyeing your now nude body on display for him, your wings still held firm in their restraint, giving him a complete view of you. You whine and rock against his leg, your first orgasm barely scratching the surface of your need. “Ah ah ah,” he chides, lifting you just enough to prevent you from achieving the friction you just tried to make. He holds you like it's effortless, and honestly, for him it probably is. Man's like eight feet tall, if not more. You whimper, leaning your forehead into his neck at the loss of all contact except where he's holding your thighs. Your hands pull together and you realize Adam is pulling the chain over his head so you aren't locking him in place.
“On your hands and knees.” You're deposited on the bed, the remaining warmth leaving you as Adam shuffles off the bed and waits for you, gold eyes glowing in the dark. You shift your weight, grumbling, until you're on your hands and knees as ordered. “You know better. Arch your back.”
The sound of buzzing piques your interest enough to listen, turning your head so your left ear is pressed to the soft sheets on the mattress. You feel your feathers ripple and a few smaller ones fall as they poof up against your will. Heat creeps up your face and you quickly bury it against the sheets with a groan. Adam's chuckle is faint, but you hear it as he shuffles around behind you. The bed dips under his weight, forcing you to shift and recover your position for any sliver of hope that he won't keep his word of denying you more orgasms.
“Aww s'matter, Babes? Embarrassed your wings are giving away how aroused you really are? Afraid I'm going to do exactly as I said?” His voice drops lower as he leans over you. You feel his scruff on the back of your neck, his breath hot as he places a few sloppy kisses there. You can't help the moan that slips, and he doesn't miss that you ball your hands into the sheets either. He shifts again and you yelp, the vibration setting not what you were expecting as he holds the massage wand to your inner thigh.
“Fuck,” you bite the sheets to try and mute yourself, still not wanting to give Adam the satisfaction of hearing your voice. He tuts, moving the massage wand closer where you want it.
“Hold this,” he mutters. He smacks your hand away and gives you a knowing look. “Not with your hands.” You roll your head to the side, pulling your shoulders closer as you shift to bring your arms back under you.
“You can't be serious, Adam!” You whine, glancing over your shoulder where he's patiently waiting for you to take the wand. His grin never wavers as you lock eyes, gold piercing through you. “Fuck, Adam, please!” You attempt to bargain, hands clawing at the bed when he shakes his head no. Your resolve is slowly breaking at his slow torture. You'd prefer his break-neck pace instead at this point. When he doesn't budge, you curse him out, eyes never leaving his own as you move your thighs together to hold the wand where he wants you to.
“Good girl,” he praises as he moves from the bed, humming to himself. You try to watch him to the best of your ability, but lose sight of him when he moves to your shared closet. You can hear him pushing clothes aside until he lets out an excited ‘aha’. You can only imagine what he found, considering that's where you kept the more sinful sex toys and equipment. The familiar feeling of leather being wrapped about your ankle startles you from your momentary bliss of the wand. You hum as you feel Adam's fingers easily pulling the restraint tight. He slips a finger between your ankle and the leather. “Too tight?” The question makes you shake your head. “Can't hear you, Angel,” he teases, looking over the curve of your ass, down your lovely arched back.
“No, not too tight,” you bite out, legs slightly numb from the high intensity of the toy he demanded you hold. You jump and let out a small yelp as his hand makes contact with your rear. You quickly squeeze your thighs back together to keep the massager from falling, knowing that would earn you more discipline. Without another word, he's moving to get the second leather brace around your other ankle. Now knowing what he's doing, you quickly answer when he asks if the second is too tight. Once you agree that you're ok and the leather is really not too tight, he nudges your knees apart, clicking a small metal rod onto both ankle braces. The wand lands on the bed with a soft thump.
“On your knees,” he orders. He grabs the wand and turns it off for the moment, setting it on the side of the bed. You push up onto your forearms before using them to propel yourself fully upright to your knees. A soft gasp escapes you as Adam wraps his hand around the front of your throat. You never felt him crawl onto the bed behind you, but you feel his warm chest and stomach pressing against your back, feel his breath against your neck. You try to swallow and calm yourself of the anticipation. He trails kisses from behind your ear down to your shoulders, his hand staying firmly around your neck, holding you against him. The cold clasp of metal doesn't startle you this time, but it does send a warmth spreading through your chest and to your core like wildfire. You feel Adam loop the leather band through the clasp, pulling the collar to rest snug against your throat. He checks once, twice, three times with his finger that the collar isn't choking you before turning you in his arms, maneuvering you so you can see him.
“Safeword?”
“Oh, uhh…kumquat!” You snicker as his grin falters at your words before returning as he throws his head back, howling with laughter. He nods, wiping a nonexistent tear away from his eye.
“Perfect. If I cross a line, you say cumquat, and I'll stop, understand?” You giggle a bit at his words, but nod along so he knows you understand. He fingers the d-ring on the collar before using it to pull you close to him. “I couldn't hear you, Pet, what was that?”
“Yessir!” You squeak, a bit baffled by the new nickname. He licks his lips, nodding and muttering something you don't quite catch. He doesn't give you an opportunity to ask what he plans to do before he kisses you roughly, forcing his tongue into your mouth. Not like you're complaining. You try to move with him, but he has you stuck with your collar, his fingers still tangled in the ring on the front. You groan against him as he presses his lips harshly to your own. He nips at your bottom lip as he pulls away, panting slightly. You notice his hair is tousled more than usual.
While you're busy staring, you don't notice him undoing your handcuffs. He rubs the indents on your wrists before bringing them to his lips, leaving small kisses. Your heartbeat quickens slightly at the sight, loving Adam's sweet tendencies, you don't even know if he's aware of them. He drops your hands and meets your gaze, his eyes narrowing at you. You shy away slightly and drop your eyes to anywhere but his face, choosing the bed by his knee to be particularly interesting as heat floods your face.
“C'mere. Lay on your back and hang your head over the edge of the bed here. You're going to be a good little bitch and suck Daddy's cock,” he croons to you, one hand cradling your cheek. Your eyes widen a bit at his bold claim, but you nod along, nipping at his hand when he pulls it away. He quirks a brow but you just shrug and do as he told you, doing your best with both your legs and wings restrained. Once situated as comfortably as you can, you tip your head back to look at the shadow looming over you. He's got the wand in his hand again and you hum, hands reaching for Adam's clothed length. He's still in his shirt and jeans, so you tug at the belt loops, looking up at him expectantly. He rolls his eyes playfully and snaps, leaving himself bare to you. You, maybe a bit too eagerly, reach out for him, grabbing the back of his thighs and tugging him towards you. You hear his laughter, but you try to tune him out, desperate to start on him in hopes that he'd return the favor with his hands or the magic wand he has.
“Can I touch you?” You ask as he stands above you. The low glow from his wings and halo give you a small glimpse of his expression, a hesitant pause as he thinks over his words.
“Yes, I'll allow you to touch me. But, if you take your hands off me, there'll be consequences,” he grants you permission. You hum with a small smile, one hand going to the back of one of his thighs while the other grips his length. You give him a couple of strokes before opening your mouth and gently tugging his thigh to urge him forward. He doesn't need you to tell him twice, and moves so his shins hit the bed while you move to make sure you can take as much of his cock as possible.
The angle is a bit awkward for you, but you make the best of your situation as you feel Adam move and hear curses ring out. You hollow your cheeks, allowing him to fit farther down your throat as he pumps his hips. You hum, swirling your tongue around him, the metal barbell on your tongue adding a cooling sensation to Adam's heat. He groans at the feeling of it, dropping above you so he's leaning on his elbows on either side of you. You reach up to mess with his feathers, your other hand moving to fondle his balls. He curses and moans as you bob your head in sync with his movements. You let your hand fall from his sack, moving it to join in his wings. You bring your knees up and dig your heels into the bed, shifting yourself closer to the edge. Your gag reflex reacts at the sudden change, your throat constricting around Adam's cock, but you force yourself to choke through it, keeping yourself from gagging again.
“Ahh-fuck!” He curses, hips stuttering before he pushes himself up, pulling out of your mouth. “Up, on your front.” You whine as you're forced to let his wings go, but quickly do as he says, mimicking your first position with your back arched. He fists your hair, pulling you back to him. You lick your lips as he watches you take him back into your mouth. He grunts at the feel of your tongue running over him before he sets a brutish pace, hand so tightly wound in your hair you feel the subtle oncoming of a headache. You reach up and rest a hand on his hip for stability, the other going back to the base of his wings. You relax your throat and jaw as best you can, tears pricking your eyes and drool dripping down your face.
You squeeze your eyes shut tight when you feel a gentle vibration at your core. Adam has the wand pressed to you on a low setting, his other hand firmly locked in your hair. He runs the toy along your folds, resting it on your clit before circling it a few times. You moan around him when you feel him up the setting, circling the toy again. You try to lean back into it, but a tug on your hair makes you stop and turn your gaze up to look at Adam. He's got his head tipped back, mouth slightly open as he pistons his hips, roughly slamming his cock down your throat. You whine as you feel the wand turn off, before hearing it hit the floor. Adam's nowhere near close, but the way you're whining around him does make his dick twitch. You lurch forward, choking slightly, as he inserts a finger into you. You try to rock back into his hand in time with his hips, earning a hum of approval from your husband. He slips in a second finger, twisting and curling them as you rock between his hand and his own rhythm. The coil from earlier winds faster now, having already had one orgasm spurs on a second more quickly. As you start to move out of sync with him, hellbent on chasing your own release again, he withdraws his hand from you. He smirks at your pathetic whine against him, sticking his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them, never letting pausing or slowing in fucking your face.
“Fuck. Taste so good, Sugartits,” he praises, watching you squirm under his gaze. You narrow your eyes at him, tugging on his feathers. His body jerks and he groans as his hips falter in their pace, before stopping. You feel his release hit the back of your throat and you swallow, running your tongue along the underside of his shaft, pulling off of him with a grin.
“Mm, right back at ya, Dickmaster,” you antagonize, sitting up on your knees to get closer to him. He growls, his smile twisting into a sneer.
“You just don't fucking learn, do you, Brat?” He yanks you to your feet by your hair, preening at the yelp he pulls from you. “That's ok. We have all fucking night and you're going to be fucking wrecked by the time I'm done with you.” You instinctively let go of his wing and hip as he pulls you into his chest, eyes holding you in place. You give him a lopsided grin as you pull your hands up to his chest, pressing your fingers into his skin.
“Of course not. It's gonna take more than a little bit to make up for ignoring me all month,” you snip back at him. He lets go of your hair and grips your cheeks between his fingers, squeezing lightly. You just smile as he holds your face close to his, his other snaking between you two to stroke his already half hard cock.
“Hmm. I'll have you in tears in a matter of minutes,” he finally replies, releasing your cheeks, and pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. You pout slightly but quickly try to hide it from him. You might have gotten lucky for back talking so far, but you knew you were going to eventually run out of luck if you hadn't already. Adam snaps, pointing to the bed. “On your back, now.” You scrunch your nose at his odd request, unable to read his expression. It takes some maneuvering as your ankles are still in the spreader bar and your wings are still in their own spreader arms, that Adam notices how difficult of a time you're having. He taps your hip, motioning for you to stop. You do so, watching him intently as he removes the bar holding your legs apart. He steps back once he's got it undone, allowing you to move freely. You murmur a soft thank you to him, a hand on his shoulder as you lower yourself onto your back much easier now. He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed once you're settled, making you lift your head at him. He doesn't acknowledge you, simply replaces the bar and uses it to lift your legs over his head as he kneels at the foot of the bed.
Your face flushes as you realize Adam is about to eat you out, a rarity from him for sure. He flashes you a grin before kissing up your legs to your thighs. He nips and kisses your inner thigh before biting harshly. You let out a small whine, reacting to the pain by trying to yank your leg back. Of course the bar and Adam stop you from getting anywhere, and your leg twitches while you whimper, balling the sheet into your fists at your sides. Your muscle shakes, pain and ecstasy flooding you, quickly turning you into a panting mess. Adam presses a kiss to the bruise he's left, moving to your other thigh to leave a matching mark there. Your toes curl as his teeth sink into your flesh, a long whine pulled from you as your muscle tenses before relaxing under Adam's tongue.
“Adam, please! Don't tease,” you cry, reaching down to bury your fingers in his messy hair. He hums as he nips at your thigh, sucking another, smaller hickey.
“Don't tell me what to do,” he rumbles, breath tickling your leg. You can't help the small laugh that finds its way out as he hovers over your mound, staring at you intently. How can he be so calm right now, you think.
You lift your head, breath hitching as you watch as your husband slowly licks straight up your folds, never breaking eye contact. You feel your face heat up, and you drop your head back onto the bed, tugging gently on his hair. He lets out a chuckle, nuzzling your thighs before pulling you closer, arms wrapped under your thighs and on your back. He laps at you slowly, humming in contentment as you squirm under him, trying to grind down on his face. He dips his tongue inside, finally, and you arch your back, chancing a glance down at him again. His eyes are closed as he draws random patterns with his tongue. After a few minutes, he pulls back, sucking your clit into his mouth. You suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he hums against you, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine.
He wiggles one hand out from under you, snapping his fingers. The spreader bar, keeping your legs apart, disappears, and you feel his wings gently move your legs out to rest over his shoulders. You stretch one leg out, hooking the other around his neck. He presses a kiss to one of your hickeys, looking up at you. He covers your clit again, sucking harshly as he slips a finger in you, moving it slowly. A gasp leaves you, feeling your stomach tighten at the sudden intrusion. He wastes no time in adding a second finger, pumping and twisting them at just the right angle to make you squeak out his name. He slows his ministrations as he feels your pussy clench around his fingers. He picks up speed again before slowing down, repeating the cycle each time you squeeze his fingers.
“Adam, please, I'm so close,” you pant, hands loose in his hair. You gently stroke through the messy brown strands, eyes shut tight as you try to hold onto the edge of bliss.
His eyes glint with mirth and mischief. He pulls away fully, smiling softly at your cry of protest. “I know I said earlier that if you came before I told you, you wouldn't get to the rest of the night…but now, I'm thinking that was a bit harsh.” There's something in the way he says it that makes you not believe him. You don't know why, and you quirk your brow up at him in silent question, moving your stretched leg to cross the other so you lock Adam in place. He definitely just edged you, you've been on the receiving end of that trick one too many times, but something is different. He's up to something. “So, how about I let you cum,” he starts and you nod quickly, squirming to try and grind on him. He laughs and holds your hips down with practiced ease. His wings lightly trail on either side of your face, down your neck, to your hips softly. “You want to cum for me, Babe?” He asks, dipping his head to lick you teasingly. You don't answer, your brain fuzzy at what he's just offered you. When he nips at your stomach do you snap your eyes to his, nodding in response. “Can't hear you, Sweets.”
“Fuck me… God, yes! Adam, please, please, let me cum,” you beg, using your legs to pull your husband closer to where you want him. His eyes narrow, tongue delving back into your folds. He swirls his tongue, constantly changing his rhythm, licking, nipping, sucking, and lapping at you fervently. You squeeze your thighs, pulling Adam closer as a result. “Adam, please, please, please!” You beg, tears threatening to spill as you feel your stomach contract as you're brought closer and closer to your second orgasm of the night.
“That's right, Sugartits. Cum for me. Cum on Dickmaster's tongue,” Adam praises, watching you as he turns his focus back to sucking on your clit, slipping two fingers in and curling them. With a shout of his name, you feel a wave of bliss wash over you. Adam hums as he works you through your release, your legs squeezing his head with the aftershocks. Your gaze snaps down to his, eyes wide in realization. He's not had a change of heart, he's just twisting what he said before. You feel your stomach drop as he pulls back a little, giving your slightly over-stimulated clit a break. His tongue darts out, licking his chin. His smug grin tells you he's about to say something smart, like usual. “Damn, Babe, if I'd known all it would take to rile you up and make you this wet for me is to ignore you, I'd have done it sooner.” You want to hate him and his stupidly perfect face, but dammit if he isn't your idiot. You try to glare at him, but your heartbeat and panting leaves little room for anything other than flustered to show.
“Fuck you, Adam,” you manage to grumble, leaning your head back into the sheets, massaging his scalp. Honestly, you don't know which is the worse of two evils; being edged all night or being over-stimulated to the point of tears.
“In a bit, Babes,” he replies, scissoring his fingers in an attempt to bring you back to the edge. “Be a good girl and keep cuming for me.” He snaps with his free hand, watching as a sash ties your wrists together with a bow knot. You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head at his silly antics.
You've lost count how many orgasms Adam has pulled from you now. All you know is if he keeps the wand on you, you're not going to last much longer. You tug at the satin sashes holding your wrists together above your head, whining as you feel another orgasm wash over you. Your nose burns as the threat of tears forms behind your closed eyelids. “Adam,” your voice is hoarse as you call out to your husband, eyes opening to find him hovering above you, wand nowhere in sight. As a matter of fact, you don't even hear it anymore.
“Shh,” Adam cooes to you, pulling one of the loose ends of the sash, untying the bow and releasing your wrists from their binds. “Think you can do something for me? I know you've already done so much, been such a good girl,” he praises, pressing light kisses along your jaw. You whimper, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. You feel him shift above you, his wings curling around you both as he fists his cock. “Think you can take one more orgasm, Sweets?” He murmurs against your neck, rubbing the head of himself against your folds. You whine, tilting your head to give him more access.
“I-I don't know. ‘M sore,” you whisper back, letting one hand rest on his shoulder. Instinctively you intertwine your fingers with his as he moves his free hand to your own.
“Come on, just one more, Pretty Girl? One more for me?” He urges, gently squeezing your hand. When you squeeze his hand in reply, he quickly sinks down until your hips meet. You shift your hips, nearly purring with the stretch of him.
“Fuck, feel so full, so good, Dickmaster,” you return the praise, turning your head to look at your husband. His face flushes lightly and he glances away, a quiet ‘shut up’ coming from him. You smile at his reaction, moving your hand from his shoulder to his cheek, cradling it gently. He turns his head to press a soft kiss to your wrist, nuzzling your hand. “I love you, Adam, but for fuck's sake, please fucking move,” you groan, bucking your hips up into him. He chuckles at your renewed enthusiasm and pushes your intertwined hands into the mattress as he shifts his weight so he's evenly over you.
He obliges your demand, slowly pulling out before sinking fully back into you, finding a slow, methodical rhythm. You sigh in contentment as you roll your hips in time to meet his, a shudder running down your spine as he fills you over and over again. It's such a drastic change from the intensity of the last couple of hours. Adam's shift from Dominant to soft-Dominant is so fast that you swear you should have whiplash. His wings brush against your shoulders, your wings, your sides, and they're so warm! You shiver in pleasure under Adam, throwing yourself off rhythm. You feel his chest rumble with laughter as you try to match his pace again, eyes closed, brows knit in focus. You gasp when he angles just right, hitting deeper in you. You grip his hand tightly, moving the other to his shoulder again in an attempt to pull him closer.
“Shh. There's my good girl. Do you feel good? Like when I hit right there,” he emphasizes his words with a particular hard thrust, hitting your g-spot. You yelp, bucking against him as a result. “Yeah? There?” He slips his wings under you, leaning back and pulling you with him as he sits up. He takes care not to shift too much, keeping himself buried in you as he adjusts you in his lap. He gently pulls his hand out of your grasp, moving to hold your hips as he helps support you, helping rock you back and forth on him. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck while you bounce on him. You feel his hands under your thighs, lightly cupping your ass as he helps hold your weight when your legs start to give out. “Can my baby girl give me one more? Think you got one more for me?” He whispers into your hair, leaning his head against yours, bucking up into you as you still, leg muscles too abused to continue your movements. You nod against him, panting as you try to focus on the feeling of him; his smell, his warmth, his familiarity, it all invades your senses and fills you with peace.
Adam holds you steady in his lap as he starts to quicken his pace, losing his rhythm from before. He slips one hand between you both, thumb quickly finding your clit again. You shudder and cry at how sensitive you are, shaking your head against his neck, babbling nonsense. He mumbles soft reassurances in your ear, pulling you down as he thrusts up.
“C'mon, Sugar, cum for Dickmaster. Cum on the Original Dick,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your temple, fingers digging into your skin. You whimper as Adam hits your g-spot as he talks, giving you that final push over the edge. You cling to him, legs shaking as your body tries to calm while he's still pistoning into you. You feel his other hand move back to under you, helping support you. You dig your hands into the base of his wings, gently tugging and nipping at his ear. He lets out a strangled gasp as his pace falters, getting sloppy. “Gonna fill you up, Babe. Gonna fill you so fucking full,” he growls, biting down on a bruise from earlier, eliciting a mixed cry of pain and pleasure from you. You clench around him as he pulls you down hard, hips stuttering as he groans.
It's quiet, save for the panting coming from you both as you slowly come down from your highs. Adam rubs your hips, kissing the bruises on your neck as you slump on him, hand gently brushing his feathers from where you were gripping them. His wings unfurl from around you, taking their warmth, and causing goosebumps to once again overtake your skin.
“Such a good girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips as he lays you down, pulling out with a grunt of dismay. You chuckle softly, eyes closing when he lays your head on your pillow. You feel him messing with the collar, can hear the clasp as he undoes it, but you can't be bothered to make a move to assist him. You hear him laugh as he pulls the clasp end, the leather warming your neck as it pulls across your bare skin. You feel the bed dip as he shifts down towards the foot, repeating the motions for both ankle braces that once held the spreader bar.
When he looks back at you, he notices the gentle rise and fall of your chest, signaling you're asleep. He sighs, heading to the bathroom to clean himself and get you a warm washcloth. He steps into the bathroom and grabs the gold washcloth, turning on the tap, waiting for it to warm up. Once he's satisfied with the temperature, he lets the cloth fully soak before wringing it out and returning to you after shutting off the tap. He tries to ask you if you'd be ok with him gently cleaning you. When you don't answer, he snorts out a laugh and gently nudges your legs apart, trying to be as gentle as possible. He tosses the rag into the hamper against the wall, climbing into bed beside you. He tugs you close, slightly surprised when you roll onto his chest. He hums and cradles your head, pressing a kiss to your crown and snapping a blanket over you both.
“Goodnight, sleep well, my Angel,” he says, wings spreading wide and curling them around you.
___________________________________________
(Oh, did you think it was done? Oh no, Sweetheart, there's more. 😘)
The sound of knocking rouses you from your slumber. You groan and nuzzle into the warmth below you, trying to ignore the sound, hoping if you don't answer, whoever it is will go away. The door opening has your eyes snapping open. You move to push yourself up, but two arms wrap around you, keeping you in place. You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. With your back to the door and being trapped under Adam's arms, you won't be able to fight back. A familiar shadow pushes open the cracked door, letting out a sigh at the sight of you. Lute pinches the bridge of her nose as she steps over to the bed, prying Adam's arms off you. She glances at you without a word, eyes trailing from your neck to your back. She crawls onto the bed, fingers quickly unlocking the brace holding your wings.
A gasp escapes you, eyes squeezing shut as you are finally able to move your wings. They're stiff as can be and they kind of hurt from being forced straight for the night. Lute sighs, holding out a hand for you. You take it hesitantly, but curiosity gets the better of you. You trust her, even if you're at your most vulnerable, and nude, in front of your lieutenant. She pulls you off the bed, towards the bathroom where she quickly starts a bath, getting the water set to the perfect temperature.
“Get in,” she orders quietly, sitting on the side of the tub. You blink, tilting your head as you obey her without question, the fire of the last month extinguished with last night's much needed treatment.
“Join me?” you ask, stepping over the side and sitting in the water with her help, wings folding close to your sides. She stares at you before nodding subtly. You watch as she strips and sets her clothes on the counter, grabbing two towels, resting them on the side of the tub.
“Turn around, I'll help you preen,” she offers, stepping into the large tub, sitting behind you. You turn your back to her, head slumping forward as she deftly runs her fingers through your feathers, straightening those that are crooked or twisted. You shudder as her hands work your feathers, and you can't help the whimper that you let out as she continues preening your wings for you. If she heard you, she doesn't say, so you don't mention it, trying to focus on anything else besides the feeling of your feathers being messed with. You grip the side of the tub when you feel her hands massaging the spines of your wings. The warmth from the water and the massage help make them feel a bit better.
“Thank you.” You know you don't have to say it, but you also know it's appreciated. “And, I'm sorry. For being a brat and for taking out my frustration on the other exorcists,” you start to ramble, eyes blurry as tears threatening to fall. Lute spins you around, gently cradling your chin in her hand, forcing you to look her in the eye.
“You're good now? Not going to be trying to harm our exorcists?” When you nod in agreement, she gives you a small smile, a rare gesture she keeps reserved for those close to her. “Good. Once you're done here, meet me at the compound,” she continues, stepping out and wrapping one of the towels around herself. You deadpan.
“You mean I still gotta meet you for those morning trainings?” You whine, eyes following your superior. She sends you a wink, leaning over the side of the tub so she's at eye level.
“Absolutely. Just because you got off the hook easily with Adam, doesn't mean I'm not going to punish you too,” she chides playfully, pressing a swift peck to your lips as she slips her clothes back on. “I'll see you at the compound in twenty minutes.”
She's gone before you can protest. You drop your hands into the water, groaning as you realize just how much of a mess you've made with being a brat.
Fuck! I still have to go apologize to Saint Peter too, you sink into the water, not looking forward to your day.
Taglist: @miss-menhera @fizzy-fuzz @atttwoood
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Recent "Star Trek" reboot universes have really tried to sell me on three different romances for Spock with other TOS characters whom he did not have romantic relationships (at least not positive ones) with in TOS, which makes it particularly annoying when some fans try to squirm away from the idea of ST ever doing a future reboot or remake in which Spock/Kirk are explicitly queer.
Like, "But it's not in the original! They want to be faithful to the original!" really, REALLY does not pass the "I think you might just be discomforted by queerness and you should work on that, rather than making appeals to the authority of textual accuracy to avoid being called a homophobe or transphobe" check here. Because it's not as though these reboots care about perfect faithfulness on pretty much any other front. We'll accept that the costumes and special effects get updated to move with the times, we'll accept wildly different characterization choices that essentially give these characters new personalities, we'll accept new timelines that change the entire political map of the galaxy, but you as a fan draw the line at "What if this character was bisexual this time?" Really???
To be clear, I am not trying to dunk on Spock/Uhura, Spock/Chapel, or Spock/T'Pring here, I am merely trying to illustrate a frustrating double-standard. TOS Uhura does notably flirt with Spock several times! I see it! I remember TOS Chapel's feelings for Spock being one-sided, but I also don't think it's a bad thing to try to update TOS's more misogynistic writing choices regarding female characters. TOS T'Pring did... kind of try to kill Spock because she didn't want to marry him, but again, I don't necessarily think it's immediately a bad thing to try to explore her as a character and her betrothal to Spock. It's fine! It's fine by me to explore new takes in new AUs.
It's just that none of that evidence from TOS for those relationships holds much of a candle to whatever the fuck Kirk and Spock had going on to inspire The Premise. "Amok Time" is an Experience. There's only so many times that Kirk can say something like, "The cost [of abandoning Spock] would have been my soul," before you want to put your face in your hands. They are taking shiny pebbles from TOS and trying their very best to sell them to me as the basis for romantic relationships in reboots, sure, while they are standing in the shadow of Spirk Evidence Mountain (TOS).
(Yes, I have seen the recent "Unification" short film. Yes, I enjoyed it. No, I will not consider Spirk "officially canon" until all plausible deniability for the squirmy folks has been completely, explicitly destroyed by a HUMAN kiss onscreen.)
And okay, I must admit, at the moment, I don't actually want Spirk to eventually happen in "Strange New Worlds" now that they've finally met. I'm mostly indifferent to their Spock and Kirk actors, personally, and the writing for every canonical romantic relationship in both SNW and "Discovery" so far has gotten a solid "well, they certainly are standing next to each other" from me. (Yes, even the gay marriage in "Discovery". I just haven't been into it so far.) I think the writers would fumble Spirk if they tried it in this specific show and then annoying fans would use the fumble as "evidence" never to try to do Spirk or queer retakes on other TOS characters ever again, or as "proof" against other queer ST in other shows characters generally.
I'm mostly just mildly annoyed that I have to keep watching Spock specifically, famously read by many people as a queer man, be straight and messy about it, especially when there has not really been a significant queer relationship onscreen in SNW yet, unless you count M'Benga's daughter Rukiya and her glow cloud friend named Debra, which I personally don't, honestly. I'd like an onscreen relationship with a main character with zero plausible deniability. There's definitely nothing yet that comes remotely close to the screentime that Spock/Chapel, Spock/T'Pring, and Kirk/La'an have all been given so far, unfortunately. (Sulu is not here yet. Scotty has just shown up. If Scotty gets to make out with a guy next season, or Uhura or Ortegas gets to make out with a lady, without it being part of some god-like-being's fantasy world, then I may be satisfied.) (Also, yes, I am aware of queer characters and relationships in other "Star Trek" shows, thanks. I very much enjoyed Mariner having her incredibly silly breakup with her girlfriend in "Lower Decks".)
"Star Trek" is one of those properties where some people's double-standards regarding romantic interpretations of the original series really jump out. "They can't do Kirk/Spock because they want to be faithful to the original!" Get real.
#mariner lower decks as a main character having incredibly stupid breakups with her girlfriend is the only thing keeping me afloat here#it's too fucking straight in here sometimes someone open a closet#tossawary star trek#spirk#spoilers#reblogs off#long post
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ʚ fairy tail headcanons ɞ
ʚ these all range from canon-compliant to pure fanfiction lala land ɞ
ʚ this ended up being so much longer than i planned ɞ
ʚɞ
the b team from the gmg hang out regularly and are all very good friends. mirajane, cana, and juvia have special "making fun of laxus" privileges that not even bickslow has.
laxus is genuinely embarrassed about how he used to talk about erza and she uses it against him very often. "oh, yes, because how can i - a mere woman - possibly accomplish this task myself?" "fine! i'll open the pickle jar!"
cain instinct is strong in the fairy tail guild. everyone is resisting the urge to smack each other, and most of them aren't very good at it. even laxus can be a target, especially after he chilled out. the most surprising display was when levy smacked him square in the head with one of her books, and he just yelled at her, or when cana stared at erza for a few seconds before smacking her across the face.
sex education was, probably, the worst thing to happen to those who grew up in the guild hall. either makarov didn't give enough details or he gave way too many.
lucy and gray are the biggest gossipers in the guild. they know everyone's secrets and while they don't blackmail people, they never hide something from the other. if they're staring at you and whispering, they are talking mad shit or they found out something about you.
juvia and natsu get along alarmingly well. they're not even sure how it works, just that they're so different that it kind of makes them perfect for each other (as friends).
natsu is sting's celebrity crush and he thinks he's doing a great job at hiding it. he's not. everyone knows. rogue knows, lector knows, all of sabertooth knows, all of fairy tail knows, sorcerer weekly knows, natsu knows. no one has the heart to tell him.
juvia doesn't have romantic feelings for lyon but she wants them to be friends so badly. not to get closer to gray, just because she thinks he's really cool and easy to talk to. lyon is so smug about it and gray wants to throttle him for it.
erza and mira's rivalry is alive in the tiniest of ways. they're always having small contests like "i bet i can wash this cup faster than you," or "i bet lucy says hi to me first." there's no hard feelings involved, they just can't help but be a little competitive with each other.
erza was illiterate for a really long time, way longer than she should have been, and makarov felt awful for not realizing it sooner. she was just looking at the reward numbers and going with the flow. on top of that, she has really bad dyslexia, something that somehow went under the radar.
related to the previous headcanon, lucy eventually realizes that the reason natsu has such bad grammar and reading comprehension is because he was tutored by erza, and erza's so bad at writing and understanding big words because she has undiagnosed dyslexia. so takes the time to slowly teach them how to read more complicated things, showing erza ways to read with her dyslexia, and giving them handwriting lessons. the first time erza writes a comprehendible letter is to jellal, and she's absolutely ecstatic about it. natsu is thrilled that he can finally read lucy's book without feeling stupid.
gray teaches wendy a lot about social cues and how to survive in a city as big as magnolia. she grew up very sheltered in a tiny village, so it makes sense that she struggles with "big city living." she's very appreciative and gray is just happy he can be of use.
gray stopped smoking because he heard lucy say she finds smokers unattractive. (gray, in the manga, smoked for a bit, and it's explicitly stated that, at least for the first handful of arcs, he was interested in lucy).
natsu started having romantic feelings for lucy during their fight against kain, but he didn't realize he was in love with her until he watched future lucy die. lucy didn't realize she had feelings for natsu until she realized she was in love with him, which was after the events with the eclipse gate. (the specific moments i'm talking about: kain | future lucy | post-eclipse gate)
between her and gajeel, juvia is the older one. she doesn't give it much thought but gajeel sees her in a big sister role, and has found himself accidentally referring to her as his older sister. which he would rather die than let her find out about.
when asked who she would go after if gray wasn't in the picture, most people expect juvia to say she could never picture a world without gray, but she will look you dead in the eye and, without any hesitation, say, "erza."
gray and loke had something very gay going on before loke went back to the celestial spirit world. the sexual tension between the two of them in this scene is too strong, they've fucked, kissed at least.
when gray realized he liked juvia back, he had a full mental breakdown for several reasons. a fear of intimacy, a fear of losing her like he has every single woman he's ever cared about, and because he just couldn't believe her very weird and very aggressive flirting tactics worked.
in the same vein, evergreen was inconsolable for days when she realized she was in love with elfman. laxus, freed, and bickslow have never been more worried about her mental well-being.
all of crime sorciere have a betting pool on when jellal and erza will get their heads out of their asses. they've had to place new bets several times because they're still dancing around each other. at this point, the betting pool is getting tense, and someone is going to lose so much money.
cobra and jellal kissed once because they were both extremely drunk and extremely sad about their respective crushes. neither of them remember it but the rest of crime sorciere can never forget watching cobra shove his tongue down jellal's throat.
makarov has said "you're like the son i never had" way too many times for it to be an accident.
elfman wants to be a girl dad so bad. he absolutely loves having sisters and he's obsessed with the idea of having a daughter to spoil and dote on.
gray and juvia have a kid before getting married...whoops.
going against the grain and literally what mashima has said, and saying that natsu and lucy have a son before having a daughter. he's a lot like lucy while their daughter is almost exactly like natsu.
yukino is a raging lesbian and is endlessly distressed by how many people think she's in love with sting. her month was ruined when minerva congratulated them on their relationship. completely ignoring the fact that sting is a gay man and is openly down bad for rogue.
rufus and orga have been dating for almost three years and literally no one knows.
lucy cried for three hours when she found out about anna and ichiya.
laxus and freed are in a queer-platonic relationship. laxus is aroace and has no interest in being romantically involved with someone, but he likes the dynamics of dating someone, and freed just likes having someone to spoil (back massages, compliments, all the things freed does in canon).
natsu has ended up in so many situations where he's put in feminine clothing, that he's actually started to kind of like it. he really doesn't mind the idea of wearing a skirt or letting lucy do his makeup. lucy is obsessed with it, and they sometimes do each other's makeup.
romeo is a trans boy and canon is my enemy. macao is extremely supportive and is always introducing romeo as enthusiastically as he can. "this is my son, romeo. isn't he so handsome? just the most handsome boy out there. i'm so proud of my son. he's the best." it's as embarrassing as it is endearing.
gray gets really bad joint pain after using his demon slayer magic, because the demon ice is so cold that it hurts him. thankfully, juvia is always happy to give him massages and crack his back.
natsu had the fattest crush on laxus from the age of thirteen to the very end of the battle of fairy tail arc. everyone just thought he had too much faith in his guild mates, but it was actually because he was so horrendously down bad for laxus that he couldn't accept that he was kind of a psycho.
gray tries so hard to seem cool and nonchalant that he accidentally flirts with basically everyone he interacts with. he thinks he's being cool and mysterious, instead he's making people fall in love with him.
loke tells lucy she's beautiful all the way into her sixties, and he means it every single time.
jude, technically, didn't take layla's maiden name, they just had the most unbelievable coincidence in the world where layla's last name was "heartfilia," while jude's was "heartphilia," so neither of them really saw a point in changing their last names.
juvia and gajeel were not only introduced to the wonders of genuine friendship and family after joining fairy tail, but also the amazing world of weed by cana and bickslow. laxus will never forget walking into his apartment with the thunder legion for the first time in years, and being met with juvia, gajeel, and cana on the couch, passing a blunt, while bickslow was raiding the kitchen.
gajeel and levy elope, only bringing lily and juvia with them as their witnesses. lucy was a little (a lot) insulted by it, but she eventually understood why levy did what she did when her and natsu decided to do the exact same thing, and only bring along their team. basically, elfman and evergreen, and gray and juvia are like the only couples to have a ceremony.
fairy tail has a lot of lawsuits and property damage bills, and freed, levy, and lucy almost had collective aneurysms trying to get through and organize them all. the guild has never spent more money on coffee.
lucy eventually takes advantage of the fact she has a very powerful kick and gets a black belt in taekwondo, a type of martial art that focuses mostly on kicking. her raw leg power combined with knowing what she's doing AND her heels? deadly.
(cw for child abuse on this one, skip if needed) minerva has such a massive appetite because jiemma would starve her both as punishment but also to "make her stronger." her body just never feels full, like the food will be taken away from her again.
sabertooth members calling minerva "m'lady" started as a serious thing to show respect, but now it's a running joke where everyone is trying to be as obnoxious as possible with it.
it's kind of implied that rogue is (at least) sexually attracted to minerva, and the fact larcade's "find out who's a virgin" spell hits him right after seeing minerva being affected by it, makes me think he lost his virginity to her. it was awkward and objectively bad but he's still glad it happened. sting drank an entire bottle of tequila when he found out about it.
getting 1 v. 2-d by natsu was the biggest ego crash sting and rogue have ever, and will ever experience. they will never be able to live it down. it will follow them to their graves. please never talk about how egotistical they used to be, they will cry from embarrassment.
minerva calls everyone's boyfriend their "boy toy" because, and i quote, "i don't respect men."
juvia is the best gift giver you will ever meet. she just has a way of always knowing what's perfect for someone, and it's a mutual agreement to always make her go last for gift giving so everyone else feels better about their gift for at least a few minutes.
natsu is the kind of guy to remember something someone said to him once in passing and randomly bring it up weeks or months later. his brain is a library of miniscule information about the people around him.
gajeel talks trash about levy's romance novels but will also be sneaking peeks over her shoulder and trying not to react to various moments. he is deeply invested in the plot twists and the main characters' romance.
while he's traveling, gildarts will buy cana a gift from every town his visits, which results in him having about a pound of knickknacks, clothes, and alcohol for her when he comes back. she pretends to be embarrassed about it but she secretly loves being spoiled by him.
gildarts and cana go on daddy-daughter dates and she'd rather drink bleach than let other people find out about it. gildarts is just happy to be there.
natsu and cana have had this conversation: "so, are we, like, siblings now?" "excuse me?" "because, like, gildarts is basically my dad, and he's your dad. so..." "we are not siblings, natsu." "okay, didn't know you liked being an only child so much." "go fuck yourself."
gildarts knows lucy is going to be his daughter in law. he doesn't know if it's going to be from her marrying natsu or from her marrying cana.
wakaba would sneak teenage gray cigarettes. erza, mirajane, and makarov almost killed him when they found out about it.
mira is aroace, feeling absolutely no romantic attraction and being sex repulsed, but she is absolutely obsessed with other peoples' love lives. she thrives on it.
lisanna is fairy tail's resident lesbian and is a little in love with every girl she meets.
#fairy tail#fairy tail headcanons#natsu dragneel#lucy heartfilia#gray fullbuster#erza scarlet#juvia lockser#gajeel redfox#levy mcgarden#laxus dreyar#freed justine#elfman strauss#mirajane strauss#lisanna strauss#sting eucliffe#rogue cheney#yukino aguria#minerva orlando#cana alberona#gildarts clive#i'm not tagging anymore characters jesus fuck
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how they eat you out
cw: somnophilia (Satoru), degradation (Toji)
Choso:
He aims to please. Will lay between your legs until you're a crying begging mess. He doesn't believe in using his fingers when eating you out. No, no, he knows how to use that tongue. And he makes sure you know that. He's a chronic people pleaser, putting your pleasure first....every single time. He'll guide you through your second orgasm, holding your thighs open with a vice grip. All the while he's still fully clothed and painfully hard. But he doesn't care. Your cries and moans are like a symphony to his ears, and he never wants it to end.
"God, you're so beautiful like this." "Think you can do another one for me, baby? C'mon, yes you can. Mmm, there's a good girl."
Kento:
Oh boy. After a long hard day of work, Kento wants nothing more than to take care of his girl. You'd want to treat him, having dinner ready for him when he gets home, but he has an entirely different meal in mind. With no more than a grunted greeting, he'd be tossing you up onto the counter and down on his knees before the front door even closes. Strong hands shoving your panties aside, gripping your thighs to translate his fiery passion to you.
"Fuck....m'sorry, darling. Just-mm-need you." "Been thinking 'bout you all day, darling. Maybe I'll call in sick tomorrow, hm? Spend all day with you. How does that sound? Ah, ah, use your words."
Megumi:
He wants it to be perfect. Every. Goddamn. Time. He'll look up at you with those alluring eyes, tongue nestled between your folds, and have the audacity to ask if he's doing okay. Won't add any fingers unless you explicitly ask him to. You just sound so sexy when you're desperate, who can blame him? Lord help you if you ask him to stop, because unless you say the safe word, he won't do any such thing.
"Want me to what? Sorry, couldn't hear you, baby. Gotta speak up." "Another finger? But you're already shaking. You really think you can handle it?" "You sound beautiful. That's it, say my name again."
Satoru:
He's literally obsessed with you. The way your back arches when he flicks his tongue over your clit. How you whisper-scream his name as he slides his fingers through your wet folds. The gentle tug you give his hair, getting tighter as you get closer and closer to the edge. But he's especially obsessed with having you first thing in the morning, before your eyes even open.
"Shit, y/n. So wet f'me even when you're sleeping? Dirty girl." "Hm? Oh, awake already? Mm, don't worry, baby. Just relax."
Suguru:
He's ready to pounce at a moment's notice. If you do so much as swing your hips a little too much as you walk by him, he's tying up his hair and you know you're in trouble. He doesn't even want full on sex all the time, just some time between your legs and he's good for another couple hours. Like a starved man, he'll twist and slide his tongue in ways that have you breathless in a matter of seconds. He'll spew obscenities until you're shaking and crying, then go back to whatever he was doing like nothing happened.
"So fucking sweet, love." "Thought you could prance around in that new skirt and I wouldn't wanna tear it off you?" "God, you're gonna be the death of me." "Need this pussy like fucking oxygen."
Sukuna:
Obviously uses it to get himself off, I mean, come on. Loves to make a night out of it. Ties you up, spread eagle to the corners of the mattress. Blindfolds you, gags you with your own soaking panties. You know the safe word, so he doesn't dare stop. Not after the first orgasm....or the second....or the third. Plowing you through wave after wave of endless ecstasy. Begging doesn't work. Crying for sure doesn't work. Everything seems to spur him on.....
"Such a needy baby, asking for more when I've already given you three." "Oh, you want me to stop? I just don't think that's true, princess. Look at how wet you still are. Go ahead, taste yourself on my fingers. Suck."
Toji:
Mean, mean MEAN. But so very loving at the same time. Knows that his insults only get you off faster. He loves nothing more than to have you sprawled out on the couch, naked, just because he asked you. Your fingers gripping his hair like your life depended on it, pushing him deeper into your needy, pulsing cunt. There's not a feeling quite like it in the whole world.
"All this just for me? Oh, darling you're spoiling me." "Such a good fucking slut, hm? Love it when I hold you down like this, don't you?" "Good sluts get three fingers. You wanna be a good slut, right, darling?"
Yuji:
Baby boy just wants you to be happy. Studied you like a final exam the first couple times, learned what you liked and what you really liked. He loves the way your eyes roll back when he rubs circles over your hardened nipples. How your legs start to shake right before you cum. How speechless he can make you after just a few gentle licks.
"Yeah? That feel good, baby?" "God, I love you like this." "No, no, please don't pull away. Let me give you another one, please?"
masterlist <3
#jjk smut#jujitsu kaisen smut#kamo choso smut#choso kamo smut#choso smut#kento nanami smut#nanami kento smut#nanami smut#fushiguro megumi smut#megumi fushiguro smut#megumi smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo smut#suguru geto smut#geto suguru smut#geto smut#sukuna ryomen smut#ryomen sukuna smut#sukuna smut#toji zenin smut#zenin toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#fushiguro toji smut#toji smut#yuji itadori smut#itadori yuji smut#yuji smut
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#please don't use threads please please please please please
#why are y'all so eager to jump from one billionaire nightmare monopoly corporation to another
yeah so don't use meta threads lol
i mean it's no surprise but still
#Other#prev is correct lol#also ANYTHING from Meta is already a red flag. haven't y'all heard abt Facebook's privacy disasters?#I feel like a lot of the ppl who do that are probably younger folks#who are addicted to social media and when one goes down they're desperate for the next one#bc that constant ability to interact all the time at literally any time is all they've known#and tbh I think despite what many of them say they don't actually /care/ abt corporate greed#in the sense that they would boycott/ignore this stuff to prove a point#they're too addicted and obsessed with social media and I don't say that explicitly as a bad thing#just that it IS the case and they don't rly care what billionaire profits from it#they just want what they want when they want it and can't do without some form of it#the second one thing does something immoral or very questionable they want to do the right thing and ditch#but then they can't do without the thing they ditched and need a replacement immediately#so they jump to the immediate next closest thing and don't care who owns it or what the privacy concerns are#they only care once smth is so bad to them that they need to jump ship and then it just repeats#and this isn't ONLY younger folks but it's a vast majority imo bc like I said it's all they've known#the internet advancing past dial up was a mistake LOL#like I said. anything from Meta is a red flag. Threads was always going to be a privacy nightmare#Twitter wasn't always the most terrible thing but ever since clown face took over it's been a shitshow#and shitshow doesn't even DESCRIBE what happened to the platform. it's just the only term that mildly works#Reddit right now isn't going to stop bc the blackout was a huge failure bc ppl couldn't commit to it#that's exactly why most said they'd do a two day strike. like the CEO said it's not gonna hurt them#he knew everyone would come running back and most did. Reddit will continue on the way it has been until#they implement the third party app finances which will kill those apps and then either ppl will jump ship#and Reddit will lose a chunk of its userbase and suffer or ppl will just not care and move to the official app#either way it's the same thing. they don't rly care which rich CEO pockets money form their usage as long as#they get their social media contact. if that social media fails they'll move to the next one#it's sad and I hope ppl can get out of that obsession and realize this is what they're doing or at least ACTUALLY care abt it#and not claim they care then continue doing exactly what they've been doing and using those things#I mean if you don't care abt privacy go for it with Threads but otherwise...
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Fixing MHA's Ending So It Follows Through With Its Core Themes (And It Basically Fixes Itself)
I don't like retconning at the best of times, but turning what started as essentially a Hope focused narrative into a "realistic" tragedy at the very last second is some wild work.
So I'm gonna do what I do best as a fic writer and fix it!!!!!
The Summary
So, I'm pretty sure all of us were on mostly the same page up until the very last panels of the Shigaraki fight (Having AFO being just "born evil" was probably the start of things not being great, but I'm willing to let that slide because it doesn't really effect the overall function of the story that much). Once that and the epilogue started is where I mostly saw people being like ????????? to a lot of choices, so I'm going to focus on those two sections only.
We're gonna be rewriting:
-The deaths of the Villains + Kurogiri (obvs)
-The overall post-War actions and reactions
-The continued existence of the Commission and the Hero Rankings
-Hawk's fate
-Spinner's fate
-A liiiiitle tweak to Chisaki's fate
-Slight tweaks to the Todorokis
-and finally What to DO with the Villains + Kurogiri now that they're alive
And we'll be starting with...
Toga
Now for a battle that was so beautiful, this really did end up completely falling apart.
I'm not gonna justify every single Villain Rescue I do, but Toga's really comes down to one simple reason for me:
Her bullies literally wanted her to die as atonement.
You don't...typically make your character's fate agree with their bullies or abusers (otherwise???? why are you explicitly portraying them as bullies and abusers to the audience if you want us to ultimately agree with them?????)
Throughout most of the story prior to this, Hori made it a staple in the show that dying for the cause, hurting yourself for the cause, martyring yourself or otherwise telling someone to kill themselves for the cause is a vile thing to do. So, it makes ZERO sense why he would suddenly retcon this at such a critical moment, especially since he already set the stage for it to be wrong in the first place.
(also does anyone also think it was weird/creepy that Hori LITERALLY has her do this with Twice and she very explicitly says "Don't be stupid I don't have to give all of my blood away"? No? Just me?)
Everything happens the same, she still thinks she's sacrificing herself, "If only, if only", blah blah blah
AND THEN...
Hawks
This is such low-hanging fruit plot-wise it actually feels offensive that it went nowhere
Nothing happens with Hawks. We all say it, fans and non-fans alike. He is wasted potential incarnate. His story is a circle and it so easily did not have to be that way because of one simple writing decision:
Hawks and Toga share a blood type.
Up until now, it really did seem like Hawks learned nothing from Jin's death. The first thing he says when he sees the clones is, "We have to kill them now!" But then, picture him still battered and broken from his fight with AFO, wingless, but there is still SOMETHING he can do to save someone's life.
And he puts the needle in his arm instead, and before she can question it, he tells her Jin would want her to live. He's not gonna make the same mistake twice.
(I also think it'd be nice if he said something like how lucky she is, to really go full circle with the Jin story, but I'm not trying dialogue here lol)
And that leads us to...
Shigaraki (and Kurogiri!)
This is a double feature because with the way I'm doing it, I can't save one without the other.
So, something that happens during this and is super anti-climactic and seemingly pointless is Midoriya losing his hands. He gets em back in like 2 seconds, because Eri gives him a surprise rewind almost immediately after. The actual point of it was just to show the brand new rule that physical damage that happens in the vestige world also happens in the real world, so that killing Shigaraki a few chapters later would still make sense.
We're gonna get rid of that rule entirely and just say that Midoriya does not lose his actual arms in the fight, and psychological damage in a ghost world does not reflect physically in reality (or idk. If you DO want that to happen, then just say the embers of the vestiges protected him one last time or something).
And because he doesn't lose his arms, Eri still has a surprise rewind to use.
But before we get to that, we actually have to save Shigaraki. So, here's the super complicated rescue rewrite I came up with. Ready?
Kicking AFO out of his brain and giving him back full control over his body simply does not kill him.
That's it!!!! That's really all that needed to happen!! It was a very conscious choice to make that kill him! It's actually more work and details to kill Shigaraki than it is to save him!! Hori already went out of his way to say that Nana's vestige protected him so that he wasn't completely swallowed by AFO, just so he could say goodbye before fading away anyway. What if, considering the fact that hatred of Nana is what damned him, love FROM Nana actually just plain ol saves him? Full stop? We come full circle. It would make it a fantastic mirror to the Todoroki fight and solidify the theme that love from your/a family, even a broken one, will save you!!
And then further in the background, Bakugou doesn't randomly kill (?????? Even after reading it again I'm still really confused about how Kurogiri dies. I think this is what happens?????) Kurogiri, and instead starts to lose control like they feared. But then, refusing to give up on him, Aizawa hits him with the now-available Rewind Juice and it finally, finally stabilizes his mind for good.
The day is saved.
And that just leaves...
Touya
Unfortunately my stupid husband can't stop trying to kill himself for 2 seconds despite my best efforts to convince him otherwise, so there's really nothing I can do about the extent of his injuries
However, there's LOTS I can do about the way we're treating said injuries! =D
First of all, because Touya is my favorite, I do wanna allow myself the space to briefly rant about how his entire situation was handled because brother. first of all. It's so incredibly obvious that he was supposed to die on the battlefield with his comrades. That man had no fuckin eyeballs by the end of that fight, bffr. And then it was like Hori remembered the thing about the noodles and was like 'oh shit I better at least wrap that up lol' so he brought him back--eyeballs and TEARDUCTS magically intact btw so naturally the audience with reading comprehension was like 'oh he's healing somehow I guess'--just to get that specific moment on the books (and maybe just to draw Touya in his Batman Who Laughs era because I mean he does look pretty sick in the tank) and then turned around and killed him again. With no explanation what the random functioning tearducts and magical regrowth of eyeballs was about.
Like...my guy, you ain't gotta do all that. Again, it's so much harder and more complicated to kill him than it is to keep him alive. Not to mention he was killed OFF-SCREEN. WE DON'T EVEN GET TO SEE ANY--IF ANY--CONVERSATIONS HE HAS WITH SHOUTO OR HIS FAMILY, WHICH WAS THE WHOLE POINT OF NOT KILLING HIM ON THE BATTLEFIELD. INSTEAD OF THE SEXY SHIRTLESS SERVING-FACE-AT-A-FUNERAL IMAGE OF TOUYA WE COULD'VE SEEN A FLASHBACK OF THEM TALKING AND HIM SMILING AND BEING HAPPY WITH THEM FOR WHATEVER TIME THEY HAD AND THAT STILL WOULD'VE BEEN MORE SATISFYING. Y'KNOW. BECAUSE THAT WAS THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT OF THE TODOROKI PLOTLINE?????????????VSSSBBNM,.;;PUSAAXXGHIIRWDFGG
But anyway.
Fixing Touya's death is really simple. We can do two things, actually.
Work with the deus-ex Ice Quirk a little bit, make the Phoenix Theory canon. Ice heals him, the tank is a giant fridge. Lo and behold, it would explain why he magically healed eyeballs and tearducts. It's an incredibly slow process, but eventually he'd heal enough to be out of the tank and in a normal hospital setting for the rest of his recovery. It also gives him a goal to pursue for the future, I.E learning how to control the new side of his powers and mayybeeee getting interested in studying Quirk Biology in the process 👀
He simply!!!!!! Doesn't die!!!!!!!!! Out of ALLLLLLL the MHA characters, I would 100% believe you if you told me that Touya Todoroki nevertheless persisted. That's like...his entire character. You don't even need to give me a reason. His entire character up until now has been 'the one that's somehow still alive' to the point that the fucking Dr. Eggman lookin ass mad scientist that brought him back to life in the first place (in WORSE condition) was like 'yeah no idea how he's still here that's scary'. I'm sorry, the entire fucking show I've had to see A. An old man without a face with a back alley ventilator system shoved directly into his stoma that's somehow fine and talking perfectly, and B. Another old man missing his ENTIRE digestive tract for years and is still up and walking around somehow with no G-tube or colostomy bag to be seen, so I think by the power of God and Anime, Touya could probably survive his injuries and it would be within the realm of believability for the show. In fact, it's LESS believable that he stayed alive through all that by spite alone and then when he finally gets offered love and acceptance, that determination and tenacity to stay alive suddenly goes out the window. If anything, it should've made him MORE determined to live.
Sorry I got carried away with that one. But there. Everyone is saved and the core themes are intact.
Now we just have...
The Overall Actions and Reactions Post-War
Gonna sum this up really quickly:
-The cameras never turned off. They're built for Quirk resistance because they're a fucking newscast in a Hero society if their technology broke every time there were heavy Quirk exchanges there would never be any fucking news. Making them conveniently lose footage so none of the civs can see the Villains humanity is just rubbing salt in the wound and serves no narrative purpose in line with pre-established themes. Everyone saw what was recorded, and it helped the Villains' cases for rehabilitation.
-We do not censor out this battle in future history books. Everyone is very familiar with the final fight and the events and circumstances leading up to it. It is not erased from public memory as soon as possible. In fact, it's frequently studied and referenced when making new policies to avoid making the same mistakes. Hori. Wtf.
-We do not reinstate the Hero Rankings in any way shape or form, and Shouto is the biggest voice in dismantling this system. Voila, this is now actually the story of how they all became the greatest Heroes, because they aren't ranked. They're all literally the greatest Heroes, and so will everyone after them.
-This IS actually portrayed in the epilogue, but yes, let's be LESS reliant on Heroes and police and MORE invested in the community!!!!!!! Even more so than what's portrayed!!!!! Take another bit from Spider-Man: Anyone can wear the mask!!!!!! Let's make a world where Heroes have too much time on their hands and not just make more of them, right????????? Remember that????????
-WE DO NOT REINSTATE THE COMMISSION. WE GOT RID OF THEM CORRUPT HOES FOR A REASON!!!!!! NO A CHANGE OF THE GUARD IS NOT ENOUGH TO FIX IT WE'RE NOT 7YRS OLD!!!!! HORI. WTF. The only thing I want them to be in charge of is licensing Heroes. I want these fuckers to be the DMV of the Hero world and that's IT!!!!!!!
Which brings us to...
Hawks' Fate
I don't even fuck with this man like that, but he did not deserve to become CEO of the organization that groomed and abused him since he was a child when all he wanted to do was chase tail and fuck off to a beach somewhere. Considering the fact that he also, like, killed people he shouldn't have, let him retire like Endeavor, please. We're done giving the old guard power and privilege, especially when they explicitly did not and do not want it (and when they did have it, they misused it). The only thing I want this man involved with is Toga's recovery alongside Uraraka. Specifically, I want him paying for it and anything else she might need. Fuck it, you know what, make HIM Endeavor's personal aide instead of Rei!!!! He gets to be a little simp and Endeavor gets a replacement son to fill Natsu's spot. Everyone wins.
(He does deserve that hairline tho. I ain't fixin that.)
So that leaves...
Spinner's Fate
I'm not changing much here, besides the fact that now Shiggy is alive and I think they should be ✨Roommates✨ eventually (and obviously he's gonna be much less riddled with survivor's guilt). I still think he should write that book, but I also think that with his multiple Quirks, he should team up with scientists to understand how Quirks work in the body (and maybe get some of them removed from his).
And next...
Chisaki's Fate
I just think this guy needs to be in the same place as the other Villains, at least for a fraction of the time. Why is he just...out. He was also in that daycare and could definitely use some help before we just let him loose in the streets because he said sorry (Can the League just say sorry then??????????).
I do think afterwards he should get involved with something chemistry related tho, cause those bullets of his came in clutch.
And on that note...
The Todorokis' Fates
And by Todorokis I mean two of them, specifically Rei lol
Yeah, she's not gonna be Endeavor's nurse for the rest of her life lol. That man has more money than God, he can hire an aide like everybody else. In fact, they're not even living together. Do you remember how earlier in the series, he gave them a new house? So they could live away from him and he would be in the old house by himself? I liked that plan. Let's go back to that plan. I'm not gonna go as far as to make them divorce, if they're together they're together, but I think separation is a necessary must at this point because if they MUST stay together, they should at least try dating for once???????? Girl was actually bought like maybe they figure out if they even still like each other at all, or ever did.
(Also, I have to laugh as a motorized wheelchair user that Hori drew her pushing Endeavor all happy and blissfully. Motorized wheelchairs are not meant to be pushed like that lol. They have push features for emergencies and small around-the-house distances of course, but uh, mine's 350 pounds without me in it. It's not usually anyone's first choice.)
But there is one more Todoroki I have a lot to talk about, so that finally brings us to...
What Do We Do With The Villains + Kurogiri Now That They're Alive???????????
We take everything from comic books except what would actually makes sense with the story lol
Surprise!!!!!! We're doing Arkham!!!!!! This is another low-hanging fruit thing that I'm almost a little offended that it wasn't implemented. Obviously Arkham has its problems in the Batman canon that we're gonna try to avoid, but I honestly think Batman villains and the core MHA Villains are pretty similar in their execution in that they are primarily mentally ill victims of society who have done very terrible things, but the audience (and Batman himself) is actively rooting for them to get better over just rotting in jail or being killed. Two-Faced has killed sooooo many people and has relapsed a ton, but I ultimately still want to see him get better because he was Batman's best friend once and a good man, and what happened to him was a tragedy. I think all the Villains deserve a space where they can humanely heal from their issues and gain support, while also being safely separated from society while they're still dangerous to themselves and others.
Oh, but Batman and his endless money bought Arkham. Who do we know who has access to trust fund money, an investment in the mentally ill, and the bonus of a medical background that could fund such a thing?
Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for...
Natsuo Todoroki!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
My mans graduates from college and immediately uses his money as a doctor and his inheritance to open up Rindou Sanctuary, in honor of his mother Rei and named after her favorite flower (I don't think he'd want to give Enji the satisfaction of his last name attached to his greatest achievement). He's head doctor on site and the board, and visits Touya every shift once he's healed enough to be transferred to the facility. He is very invested in his brother's treatment and refuses to lose him again--at least not until they're proper old men.
It is publicly funded by donors and taxes alike, and Enji, naturally, is always the highest donor. Call it reparations.
And there you have it! That's how to fix the epilogue. It took longer to type than think about. I could care less about canon shipping, so y'all can keep that (or not). I'm just here to fix the structural problems that have no reason to be here at this point. As I said, once I redrew lines Hori already set up and just abandoned, it pretty much fixed itself.
Hope you enjoyed it and I hope it eases the grief a little!!!!! They're alive look I fixed it!!!!!! <3
(also feel free to use anything I said in here in your own fix-it fics!!!! Just tag me so I can read them 👀)
#x-men but anime#I...don't wanna tag this with the main tag LMFAO#oh how about this I've seen this one#bnha critical#dabi#touya todoroki#shigaraki tomura#tenko shimura#toga himiko#league of villains#sorry if there's typos I did not realize it was 6am good lord
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espresso stains // secondo
1k words, non-descript f!oc/third person reader (you can read this as my oc manon or just insert yourself/whoever), some self-esteem issues, reassurances, established relationship, mildly suggestive, 18+ MDNI
─── ⛧ ✦ ⛧ ───
The espresso cup clinks gently as he sets it down on the matching saucer – ceramics irrevocably stained by years of use, adorned only by one clean brown line just below the rim, right where his mouth rested a moment ago. He sighs, weary after a full meal, licking the remains of coffee from his lips. An easy-going smile, a hand on her shoulder, kneading until the tension melts underneath his fingertips. Her own cup is empty, the tiny handle still trapped between two fingers, and he has to peel her hand away from it to fold it into his large palm.
"You know you don't always have to go out of your way to cook for me," she says.
"I am not going out of my way," he states.
Quiet, then, the rhythmic press of his thumb, gazes caught, that soft shimmer in his eyes when she relaxes under his touch.
"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asks.
"What?"
"To be taken care of."
His readings of her have become so precise that she thinks it must be written all over her face, how she doesn't feel like she deserves this level of attention, him standing in the kitchen for hours to feed her, running her baths, massaging her tense muscles, comforting her anxieties. It makes her want to cry, makes her feel like a child, that ever-present longing, a hunger for love that was never sated when she was small, and now that he offers her such care it is like she doesn't know how what to do with it.
"Not uncomfortable just–" She sits with the feeling, locates the core of it. "Unworthy."
He doesn't disagree but his brows pull together, the barest hint of tension giving him away. She chews on this reveal, though she has a suspicion that it is nothing new to him. It is hard to explain, how you can long for something so desperately and still find it impossible to accept.
"I find pleasure in it," he says after a while, still looking at her, still kneading. "Cooking for you, buying you things you would never buy for yourself, making sure you eat, rest, sleep."
He lifts her hand, pulling her towards him, and she follows willingly into his lap where he wanted her all along. His hands map out the shape of her, nose dragging up her shoulder, her neck, following the trail of her perfume with a soft hum.
"I find pleasure in taking care of you," he says, now so close, lips ghosting over her jaw.
"But– why?"
"Why?" he mirrors the questions. "Why does anyone? Because it is human, because we are made to care."
"Why me, then?"
Her hands find purchase on his shoulders just in time for him to lean back and away from her, searching her gaze. It displeases him, she knows this, when she speaks ill of herself, implicit– or explicitly.
"Because you are for me," he replies, as if that says it all. The long answer lies somewhere behind his eyes, the longing, that rare softness. For me, he says, meaning that she needs him, that for some reason he needs her too, that she has a deficiency and he has a surplus, that he too is lacking things only she can provide, that they are balancing the scales when they are together.
It scares her sometimes, to think that she is just a project to him, that one day the scales stop being even. The what ifs and what happens whens and the idea that he'll complete his mission and move on to someone who needs him more. He provides, it's what he does, he soothes and guides and teaches and brings relief to tensions that have been decades in the making. Would it be an illusion to think that he'll settle at last?
"No," he says, startling her awake just as her mind wraps around the question.
"No what?"
"You are in your head." His finger taps against her temple before his whole hand comes to splay out against the side of her head, a cocoon to trap her, so effective that the moment begins to feel real again. "I want you here with me, my dove."
"I suppose I am overthinking," she admits.
"As is your habit," he quips. "Always you slip somewhere else and I have to guess where it is, how to get you back."
She'd asked him once, after being intimate, after he'd admitted that he'd struggled to feel fulfilled in the past, who takes care of you, Secondo? And he'd been so sad at the question, but then he'd said, you do, perhaps you are the only one who does. It had been hard to imagine, then, that a man like him, so independant, so stoic and strong, could truly have need of her. But he had been genuine, perhaps the most genuine she'd ever seen him.
"I want to take care of you too," she states.
His lips curve. It's not much of a confession by any means, something she'd said in the past when he'd been so generous that she'd felt so very limited in her means to reciprocate. But somehow it weighs heavier tonight. He's a man so set in his ways, so used to being by himself in the moments when it matters, the stain of years of use, cracked ceramics glued together by spite, repressed pain of a lifetime yellowing the bottom of the cup like rings of old coffee. He doesn't have to pour it himself anymore, and perhaps it's enough that he knows.
"Will you accept me now?" he asks. "Let me take care of you in the way I've been wanting to all night?"
She nods, just so, and his hands dip low again, dragging her hips forward until they're pressed together. They share a sweet moan before their mouths come searching the other's taste, coffee and amarettini, the wine he picked for dinner. It's unhurried, slow and sensual, the type of kiss that doesn't immediately lead anywhere but bridges that gap between wanting and having, between need and relief.
Secondo's chair scrapes against hard wooden floor when he picks her up, carries her to the sofa where he'll have her for an hour or so, indulging in those very kisses, drawing them out before he thinks to take his time with her in bed throughout the night. Two empty cups on the table, a candle slowly burning out. He's not going out of his way, he said, and she knows he's right where he wants to be.
─── ⛧ ✦ ⛧ ───
this is another little ficlet that i took from what will hopefully be a full fic at some point but that i think works on its own as well. thank you for indulging me <3
#manondo#secondo x oc#secondo x reader#papa emeritus ii x oc#papa emeritus ii x reader#reader insert#this has nothing to do with the song btw lmao
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Rick Riordan's problematic age gaps
Apparently reddit hates criticism because this got removed from there after a few minutes, maybe I can get it back up...anyways.
The age of consent in Texas is 17, Texas is where Rick lived (according to wikipedia) up until 2013. And yet...here we are.
Where do I even begin with this bullf*ckery? How about the most egregious of all?
Luke and Annabeth
We have two lines confirming their mutual feelings, one from The Demigod Diaries:
"Overtime, Annabeth developed a crush on Luke. As Annabeth got older, Luke developed feelings for her, too."
Mark of Athena (from her conversation with Venus):
"First there was Luke Castellan, her first crush, who had seen her only as a little sister; then he’d turned evil and decided he liked her—right before he died."
Now let me remind you, Annabeth and Luke have a seven year age difference, they knew each other at 7 and 14. By the time he died, Annabeth was just 16, while he was 23. And it's implied he begun returning her feelings a little before he asked her to run away, perhaps when she was 14. He's paralleled with Percy as Annabeth is his string in the river styx. He asks Annabeth explicitly if she loved him romantically (and she denies because Percy is there).
It's disgustingly inappropriate but at the very least they don't end up together...as for when they do...
Sadie Kane and Anubis
When it comes to immortal romance, I usually go for coded age. Anubis is thousands of years old but is mentally and physically 16, which is fine and dandy except for the fact that Sadie is 12. What do you want me to say except Rick is disgusting for promoting this.
Speaking of extreme age gaps:
Calypso and Leo
When you have a philosophy that every character must end up in a relationship, you run out of sensical options to pair up. Now, I'm a Caleo hater mainly because of how it retconned PJO and also because they are very toxic.
Now hold on, doesn't Caleo fall into coded age? Calypso is 15/16 and Leo is 15, so it's A okay! I suppose, if it wasn't for Calypso's past loves.
Odysseus, he had a wife and a son who was 20 years old in his final year on Ogygia, he is well into adult age. She also mentions the privateer Francis Drake and his wife Elizabeth, he was 45 when he married her.
If your defence is that she's actually thousands of years old, then that must also apply to Caleo. You cannot have it both ways.
Hazel and Frank
It's not that bad but it's necessary to mention for the point I will be making.
The timeline is messed up but I think they're 13 and 16 and meet at 12-15. I mean, come on.
Misogyny and Racism
What do these have in common? Well in 3/4 or 4/4, the younger one is female. In 2/4 or 3/4, the younger one is a person of colour.
Remember Nico? His crush on Percy as revealed in HoH? Well in MoA, there's a cheeky little red herring that happens a bit before Annabeth's talk with Venus (where it is revealed that Luke liked Annnabeth back). She wonders if Nico had a crush on her, but denounces him as too young. Now, Nico's age is inconsistent, I am unsure of his gap with Annabeth but I do know his gap with Percy. It's 3 years 5 months in PJO and 2 years 5 months in HoO (the series we are currently in).
So in RR's messed up mind, a white boy having a relationship with someone 2 to less than 4 years his senior is inappropriate. But a black tween girl dating someone 3 years her senior is just fine, a 12 year old biracial black girl dating a 16 year old is daijoubu, a 15 year old mestizo Latino boy dating an elderly woman is relationship goals, or the reverse a 15 year old girl dating middle aged men is a tragic romance and a 12 year old girl having mutual feelings with a 19 year old man is a "love story for the ages"!
The tv adaptation is so infuriating for this, they made Annabeth black, a lot of the changes they made came off as micro aggressions but especially her relationship with Luke. It's reduced to Luke simping for Annabeth behind her back and it's even worse because you can visibly see how large their age gap is. Heck, Charlie Bushnell and Leah Jeffries have a smaller age gap than book Luke and Annabeth.
Adultification is a huge real life issue. Children of colour and especially female children of colour are seen as less innocent than their white counterparts. Rick, who is dedicated to inclusivity should've known better than to include these illegal relationships. Stans will try and make excuses but it's there, deal with it.
As a black teenage girl who has been a fan of Rick's work for 12 years, I am disappointed.
#rick riordan critical#rick riordan criticism#anti rick riordan#anti caleo#percy jackson critical#percy jackson criticism#rr crit#anti frazel#heroes of olympus critical#hoo crit#pjo tv crit#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo hoo toa#rick riordan#riordanverse#rrverse#kane chronicles#percy jackson and the olympians#heroes of olympus
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