#Trying so hard to stay positive and it’s starting to crumble

[yoshipupz]

why is bro sad….

Why. Why is he crodeing. Why is he cried.. why is he cryding on the Charlie plush.

cough . I made this drawing cuz I was down in the dumps so I wanted to draw something sad and this is what I came up with. I guess art really is therapy since halfway through drawing this I changed my sad playlist to my happy playlist awww yeah

also I have no specific interpretation or story behind this drawing, I just drew whatever I felt like drawing in the moment, so if anyone has any interpretations of what this piece could be about then lmk in the comments - or tags if u decide to reblog this - cuz I’d like to hear them c:

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 35: Threads

Summary: Pack bonds are made up of delicate threads, small fibers webbing together the dynamics and relationships that make up each individual pack. The omega stands in the middle, holding the pieces together, keeping the pack from crumbling by clinging to those threads like a strongman holds pillars up with chains.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 11,740 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, descriptions of physical pain, brief description of drowning, medical stuff, panic, crying, panic attacks, nightmares, PTSD, very heavy emotions, alcohol and brief mention of alcoholism, language, fighting (not physically), Kyle being the best boy, aftermath of trauma, brief mentions of the events of the previous chapter, guilt and shame, angst, and finally some comfort after the hurt (but not quite what you'd expect)

A/N: So I may have been slightly wrong, the angst isn't over, but it's not quite as intense as it has been. There are little tidbits of comfort in this one, though it's not like "okay it's over, let me wrap you in this blanket and everything is fine and happy now". It's...you'll see. If you're waiting for the fine and happy comfort then...you might want to wait a few chapters still. The comfort will come on slowly, but it has officially started.

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Screaming. 

Someone is screaming. 

It hurts your ears, high-pitched and ringing. Your hands cover them, but even that can’t block out the sound. 

It’s ringing in your own head. 

Your body hurts, every joint and muscle aching and throbbing. They’ve been locked in place too long, frozen in one position, a safe position. Safety. That’s what you’re seeking, that’s what you’re trying to find. That’s why you’re here. 

This isn’t a safe space anymore. 

The walls are crumbling, the darkness is fading. There’s light seeping in, threatening to pull you out, make you face whatever is waiting on the other side. It’s not a comforting light, it’s bright and piercing and threatening. You don’t want to leave the darkness. You don’t want to face the light. You want to stay there, stay frozen, stay safe. 

Your throat burns, raw and painful with every breath. 

It’s you. 

You’re screaming. 

Hands are flying, mouth open in a scream. It’s a horrible sound, grating and feral sounding. Your body twists and turns as they try to hold you down. No restraints. You’ll just hurt yourself more. 

Blood is flying, splattering on the gurney, the floor, the walls. Yours or someone else’s? It’s hard to tell. 

Simon. 

“Simon!” 

He snaps out of his daze, his eyes darting up to look at Dr. Keller across the gurney. Her hand is around his wrist, your elbow knocking against his forearm as you try to fight whatever it is you think you’re seeing. Maybe you’re seeing nothing at all. 

“I know.” Dr. Keller’s voice is soft despite the chaos of the moment. Her gaze is firm but comforting. She knows. “I need you to hold her still. She’s going to hurt herself further if she can’t calm down.” 

She’s going to hurt someone else too. 

The monitors are beeping and screaming. They managed to get a blood pressure cuff around your arm before you snapped out of the daze he’d put you in and started fighting. You’re like a wild animal, cornered and fighting for your life again with a renewed vigor. Renewed for now. If you don’t calm down again, something will give out. 

There won’t be any coming back from that. 

“Don’t be afraid if you hurt her.” Dr. Keller says, squeezing his wrist. “Bones can be fixed.” 

He catches your wrists in his hand, pinning them down against your chest. He uses his weight to his advantage, pushing his arm into you as he leans down so you’re face to face. You let out another scream, fighting against him but he has you beat. He’s bigger, stronger, calmer. 

“Look at me.” He says, his alpha rumbling low in his chest. It has even the beta nurses stopping in their tracks to look at him. The only one unaffected is Dr. Keller as she uses this moment to her advantage. 

You stop fighting him, breathing in heavy gasps as you stare right up into his eyes. Wild and untamed, pupils dilated in your aggressive state. Dilated out of aggression or dilated out of fear? Perhaps both. Beads of sweat slide down your face, your body hot under his. It mixes with the blood on your skin, blood from your own injuries and from the Shadows you killed. Your cheek is bruised, discolored from broken blood vessels. Your left eye will swell shut soon. He needs to get you calm before then. 

It’s almost cute, the way you bare your teeth up at him. He might have thought it cute in a different setting, if your life wasn’t dangling over a ledge right now. A low growl rumbles in your chest, a warning that has his own hackles raising. He bares his teeth back, an answering growl, deeper and angrier, rumbles in his own chest. The nurses take a step back. Even Dr. Keller pauses at the sound. 

Yet, despite the threat in his growl, it doesn’t deter you one bit. Your knee drives into his side, making him grunt from the impact, but he doesn’t let up. You’re fighting him again, trying to wiggle your way out of his hold. If he pushes any harder, he might break a rib. You’re going to break something if you don’t stop. 

You’re too far gone to recognize anything but fear and danger. You’re only going to fight, only going to attack anything you perceive as a threat. You won’t even recognise him. He has to get you to calm down before you have a heart attack. He considers getting one of the nurses to bring Johnny in, but there’s no guarantee that will work. You’ll just perceive him as another threat, another danger. More people in the room will only make you more aggressive...make your omega more aggressive. 

He’s not dealing with you. He’s dealing with your omega in her raw form, the animal deep underneath forced out of her hiding place. Whoever said omegas are weak never had to face one in this state. 

He stares down at you as you fight and scream, battering his side with your knees but he can hardly feel the pain. His arm is still throbbing where you bit him, but he can hardly see the blood streaked on his skin. 

He has to save you. 

He can’t let all of this go to waste. 

They’ll never recover if they lose you now. 

He moves almost seamlessly, time seeming to slow as he lets you go. He unclips his vest and rips it over his head in one movement, uncaring as it hits the floor with a heavy thud. You lunge up at him but he’s ready, catching you before your lower body can leave the gurney. It’s a risk. A huge risk, but it’s all he can think of doing. It’s hardly the worst place to be if things go wrong, if this fails. If he does fail, at least he’ll know he tried. 

He pushes his mask up to his chin, pressing your face right into his neck. 

Your nose pushes against his scent gland as he cups the back of your head, holding you there. He projects his scent as strong as he can, hoping it can reach some deep part of your mind, some glimmer of you that’s left in there. 

If this goes wrong, you’ll rip out skin and veins with your teeth. He’ll bleed out on the floor before they can even get him on a gurney. 

He wraps his other arm around you, holding you as still as he can. Tears prick his eyes as he holds you, shoving away the beeping machines, the panic still thrumming inside of him. Scruffing you was only round one of this fight. He should have held it longer, should have been brave enough to do it a second time. 

He can still feel it, your neck in his hand, the way you gave in so easily. You had no choice, he gave you none. It was necessary, it was vital that he did it. You wouldn’t have made it this far if he hadn’t. 

He should do it again. It would be easy, just slip his hand down and squeeze and you’ll be gone, lost in your head again and under his control. Maybe then he’d get you to calm down, get you out of this state and free from the danger looming closer and closer. 

Heart attack, stroke, organ failure. 

Why couldn’t Price be the one to go after you? Why couldn’t it be Price standing here making this decision. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers before slipping his hand down, wrapping it around the back of your neck again. 

Pain. 

You’re in pain. 

You try to fade away again, try to push yourself back into the darkness to avoid the pain, but you can’t. 

There’s no escaping it. 

Your body hurts, every joint and muscle throbbing. Fire licks at your very cells, burning hot through your veins, scorching your skin. Safety. You want safety again. You want to retreat back into yourself, back into the comfort only the darkness can offer you. 

Nowhere is safe anymore. 

Tears are rolling down your cheeks, the light pressing closer and closer. It’s somewhere above you, shining down in offending shades of white. You can see it behind your eyelids no matter how hard you try to squeeze them together. There’s no escaping this light. There’s no retreating back into safety. There’s no safety anymore. 

You’re underwater, slowly rising to the surface. There’s sounds around you, muffled and dampened by the water. You need to breathe, you need to inhale precious oxygen but you can’t get to the surface fast enough. Lungs burning, your fingers claw at the water but you can’t reach it, you can’t swim fast enough. 

Your hands curl into soft fabric as you cough, choking on imaginary water. There’s warmth surrounding you, pressed in on all sides. You’re leaning against something, something hard and solid and warm. The sounds are louder now, mixing into a convoluted cocktail of constant noise. You hate it. 

Pain ripples through your throat as you let out a groan, the sound catching and cracking on the rough edges of your vocal chords. Another choked sound leaves your lips, pain rippling through your very nerves. The skin on your face is burning, simmering ashes being fanned by every tear sliding down your cheeks. 

You’re crying. 

There’s a deep sound coming from under you. It’s vibrating against your body, your pulsing ears focusing on that sound. It’s familiar. You’ve heard it before, somewhere back in the recesses of your mind. 

Your mind. 

It’s there. You can feel it beginning to take shape, thoughts beginning to form out of the fractured darkness. You’re not in your mind anymore, your mind is in you. You’re a being inside of a body, a body wracked with pain. The urge to retreat back is strong, but you can’t. That part of you has been closed off, sealed away by the light. 

Fingers and toes twitch, tingling and throbbing with the cold despite the fire blazing its way through your veins. It is cold, your hand pulling at the softness you’re clinging to. The low vibration begins again, rumbling through you, igniting something in the back of your mind. 

You know it. It’s familiar. 

Something tingles in the back of your mind, starting to come to life. Despite the agony there’s something in there, something warm and comforting. There’s no name for it, no thought flashing through the swirling mass of neurons slowly taking shape. It’s soft and warm and whispering to you. 

Wake up. 

Wake up. 

Wake up! 

Your eyes open before you can stop them. You’re immediately blinded, eyes throbbing from the bright white light above you, a high pitched whine leaving your lips. It rattles through your throat, broken and squeaking through your shredded trachea. You clench your eyes shut again, wincing away from the intrusive light, the movement sending a bolt of pain through your body like an electric shock. You let out another garbled sound, your fist tugging on the fabric it’s clenching. 

“I know, I’m sorry sweetie.” A voice says, the light disappearing before another takes its place, softer and lighter and less painful. 

Your eyes crack open again, still throbbing despite the light being removed. Your entire body is throbbing, pulsing like an exposed nerve. You feel like an exposed nerve, weak and vulnerable. It triggers something deep in your brain, the light starting to dim. Something is rising, something is coming. You want to lay back, let it take over, let it take control. You want to sink into the darkness again. The darkness is safe, the darkness is secure. 

The beeping is getting louder. Beeping, that’s what that sound is. There’s something beeping. It’s getting faster and faster. You’re starting to go numb, the tingling in your fingers and toes fading away. It’s not so cold anymore, the ache in your limbs fading into oblivion. You’re fading into oblivion. 

“Oi! None of that.” 

You’re awake. You let out a disgruntled sound as the warmth and comfort leaves you, deserting you in favor of retreating into the recesses of your mind again. A shiver runs down your spine, your very skin tingling with pinpricks of pain as it goes. 

“Open your eyes again for me, love.” 

Your body moves before you can tell it not to, your eyes fluttering open again. You’re squinting despite the bright light being gone. Any light is too much, your mind seeking out the comforting darkness once more. 

Darkness makes you vulnerable. 

In the dark, you’re blind to things that may be hiding there. 

No. 

No more darkness. 

You want the light. 

Scents flood your brain as your eyes fully open, slamming into you like a wave. It’s too much, nearly choking you again as you try to register everything. The burning scent of sterilizer, the soft scent of clean linens, the harsh scent of chemicals. There’s a soft scent mixing in with the others, something easing the turmoil in your mind just slightly. Above all else, though, is the intense smell of leather and something soft and fresh. It overpowers almost all of them, standing out distinctly. It makes your nose throb, something tickling in the back of your mind. You’re afraid of the scent, yet...there’s something else. Something...familiar. 

“Back with us yet?” The sound rumbles under you again. 

“Nearly there.” Another voice says. “Heart rate is coming down again. Still feverish, though.” 

You’re suddenly aware of your body again, the pains, the aches, the burning, the cold. You’re trembling, your skin prickling from how cold it is. You try to press forward against the warmth in front of you, but the movement has pain slashing through your very cells. Another pathetic whine tears through your throat, every movement sending stabbing pain through your very being. 

“C...C-Cold.” You manage to croak out, the word forming clumsily on your tongue. It feels heavy, like you’re relearning how to speak. 

“I know.” The softer voice says, something dragging across your skin. “We’re trying our best.” 

Something moves against your back, dragging against your skin. Whatever it is, it’s warm, but it’s rough. You push into it, something telling you to get closer, to wrap yourself in it and let it suffocate you. Somehow it’s comforting to you, somehow it’s familiar. 

Slowly thoughts and sensations begin to return to you, your mind dragging itself from the depths it had sunk into. 

It was purposeful. 

You did it to save yourself. 

You’re shaking for a different reason now, suddenly aware of the parts of your body that ache the most. Your shoulder, your cheek, your throat, your wrists. There’s a deep chill that has settled in your bones, sinking past the fever and the pain, past the memories beginning to resurface, past the hopelessness and the anger and the fear. 

“Simon?” You croak out, the name burning its way through your dry throat. You desperately want something to drink, anything to ease the burning desert in your mouth. 

“It’s me, love.” The sound rumbles under you again. 

Leather. Eucalyptus. Warmth. Alpha. 

You groan, trying to shift closer but the tensing of your muscles has pain screaming through your body. A shuddering breath leaves your lips, your body tensing until it passes. 

“Try not to move too much.” The other voice says, a hand coming to rest on your arm. You’re still clutching Simon’s sweatshirt in your hand like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to this earthly plane. 

It might be. 

“Dr. Keller?” You croak out, recognizing that voice. 

“I’m here too sweetie.” She says somewhere behind you. “Take it easy, you’ve had a rough go of it.” 

She’s not wrong. 

The memories are coming back slowly, each one playing through your head like an episode of some fucked up television show. Except, it isn’t a television show. It’s your life. 

You hate it. 

“John?” You ask, trying to get your tongue to work, but you desperately need water. 

“Probably yelling at every person who crosses his path.” Simon says. “He was blazing a path to hell and back earlier trying to get ahold of anyone he could yell at involved in this.” He rubs your back. “He’ll be here as soon as he’s calmed down. Kyle and Johnny are working overtime trying to help restrain him.” 

You'll always be a second thought. 

“You?” You ask, unable to form the whole question you want to ask. Why are you here and not with your pack? 

He's quiet for a moment. “We got here before John and Kyle did.” His hand stills against your back, palm pressing below your shoulder blades. “You wouldn't let anyone close to you. The doc said it's normal, coming out of that state. I had to help keep you calm so you could get patched up. Then you wouldn't let me leave.” 

Your fingers ache from how hard they're gripping his sweatshirt. He stayed. He's the one here with you, not your alpha. 

You let out a groan, the pain starting to intensify. There’s a throbbing in your calf, and a deep ache starting to pulse in your joints. You’re almost glad for it, the turmoil in your mind starting to twist and fog your thoughts pushed aside in favor of the pain screaming at the forefront of your brain. 

“Time for more pain medicine.” Dr. Keller says somewhere behind you. “You’ll probably get sleepy, but rest is what you need right now.” 

You let out another groan, pressing your face back against Simon’s chest. Despite the pain in your body, there’s an even deeper ache in your chest. It’s not a physical one. Your alpha isn’t here. He’s left you again, abandoned you in favor of something else, something he deems more important. 

Tears are brimming in your eyes as they slip closed, the exhaustion and the drowsiness from the pain medicine taking over. 

It’s not quite so cold when you wake up next. It’s brighter in the room, the light not quite so artificial as it had been the first time. There’s no body against yours, no warmth seeping into your skin or scent in your nose. Your fingers twitch, almost like they want to seek it out again. 

You’re alone. 

You let out a quiet breath, your brows furrowing. Your shoulder aches, throbbing in time with the beep of the heart monitor. It hurts less to move as you shift your arm to itch the other. It’s horribly itchy, but your fingers meet gauze instead. 

Right. Phil had cut you there. Not very deep, but still deep enough to hurt. Just another injury to add to the list. 

You try to lift your arm but burning pain shoots through your shoulder. You wince, letting out a quiet moan of pain as you drop it back into the bed. You breathe as the pain shoots through you, swirling through your veins before it begins to settle. 

“You shouldn’t try to move too much.” A voice cuts through the silence. 

Your head whips to the side, your arm shooting out to grip the side rail as pain burns through your body like lava. It seeps slowly from your left shoulder down to your toes and into your very hair follicles. You let out another groan of pain, your eyes squeezing closed as you wait for it to pass. 

“Sorry.” The voice says softly. “I suppose that didn’t help any.” 

You open your eyes, still breathing heavily as the pain begins to fade. Your hand is still wrapped around the side rail as you stare at John. He’s seated next to the bed, his elbows on his knees as he stares at you. He looks tired, eyes puffy with dark circles around them. He’s in a simple green shirt and cargo pants, yet he’s not quite as put together as he normally is. His hair is sticking up in different directions, his beard scruffier than normal. There’s a faint pink line of what was probably once a cut on his cheek. 

It’s the first time you’ve seen him in weeks. 

You should be happy. 

You should be ecstatic. 

You should be relieved. 

Yet, all you can feel is pain and anger and betrayal. 

“There’s nothing I can say that will make this better.” He says, his voice rougher than usual, even after returning from a deployment. His eyes shine with emotion. You hate it. “There’s nothing I can say that will undo what happened.” He runs a hand over his mouth, letting out a breath through his nose. “This shouldn’t have happened in the first place. We should have known better, we should have questioned it.” He shakes his head. “We put too much trust in those above us, and we were all fooled.” 

Tears blur your eyes as you stare at him. He’s not just talking about Shepherd and the initiative. He’s talking about you too. 

“I regret it more than any decision I’ve ever made. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life,” He continues. “You put your trust in me, and I failed you. I let this happen to you because I got too caught up thinking about the greater good of the pack and I ignored what was right in front of me. You’re here because of me, because of the decisions I made. I had one job, and now you’re paying for my failure.” 

He pauses for a moment, tears shining in his own eyes. You should feel surprise, sympathy, something. All you can feel is hatred. He doesn’t deserve to cry over you. He doesn’t deserve this chance to try and explain himself to you, to try and give excuses for his actions. He made his choice. He made it very clear where his loyalties lie, where they’ve always been, where that line was laid before he even claimed you. It was never about you. Nothing was ever about you. It was always the initiative, and then when the initiative turned out to be false, it was about the ‘greater good’. You should have been the greater good. You should have been their focus. Instead they all betrayed you. 

They betrayed you in the end. 

“I made a bad call.” He continues on. “I shouldn’t have left you there. I shouldn’t have made that decision. It never would have played out how I thought it would in my head at that moment. Now you’re here, like this, because I made a stupid mistake.” 

He stares at you for a long moment, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, as if you  should have something to say in response. He’s waiting for an acceptance to his half-assed apology, as if his words can somehow undo the pain, the burning in your wrists, the throbbing in your shoulder, the agony every time you simply move a limb. As if his half-assed apology can somehow undo the weeks of depression and anguish and the worry and the fear. As if his half-assed apology can make up for the way they all cut you off, treating you like a traitor before abandoning you. As if his half-assed apology can undo the hours and hours of torment and pain the man you once thought of as a family friend unleashed on you all because of them. 

The hatred burns almost as hot as the lava in your veins, so hot you’re surprised the tear that slides down your cheek doesn’t start steaming. Your heart rate is picking up again, the monitor beeping with the sound of the anger simmering inside of you. The blood pressure cuff squeezes around your arm, a grunt of pain cracking in your throat. 

“Yeah,” You say, your voice hardly more than a whisper. You turn your head away from him, wincing as an electric shock of pain jolts through you from the motion. You drop your hand from the side rail before he can touch you, tucking your arm back under the rough blanket. “You did.” 

You have nothing more to say to him. 

John enters the room solemnly, the silence nearly palpable as they all wait in anticipation. They’re all looking at him, waiting patiently for their captain, their alpha, to speak. They always look to him, they always rely on him, they always trust him and now look where he’s led them. So rarely does he make the wrong decision, so rarely does he lead them astray. 

What happened this time? 

Why did he so easily turn them away from you? Why did he so easily turn his back on you? 

What words are there to say? He knew his words would do little to calm the raging storm inside of you, the hurt and the pain and the betrayal they put you through all because of him. 

The rejection still hurts, but it should. They all rejected you as soon as they left you behind. 

It’s only a fraction of the pain you must be feeling. 

“How is she?” Kyle asks, breaking the tense silence. 

“Upset.” He sighs, sinking down in a chair. 

“Fuckin’ sure she is.” Johnny snaps, anger radiating off of him in steaming waves. He’s been on edge, they all have, since the four of them were reunited. He had been there, stuck in the hall as you screamed and fought. He thought the worst when your screams cut off until he was finally updated by one of the nurses leaving the room. “Of course she doesnae want to see any of us! We just fucking left her, just like that, and it was your fuckin’ fault!” 

Simon grabs his beta before he can throw a fist at John, holding him back. Johnny lets out a string of curses none of them understand, fighting against his alpha. Simon holds him tightly, the image of your bloody form fighting against him still at the forefront of his mind. He grips Johnny tightly, muscles straining. Johnny is bigger. Johnny is stronger. 

He has half a mind to let him go. 

John doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch as Johnny yells and rages. He’d welcome a good beating right now. He could use some physical pain to distract from the ache in his chest. 

“Calm down,” Kyle says, getting in Johnny’s face. “I said calm down!” Kyle yells, Johnny stilling for a moment. It’s not often Kyle raises his voice at one of them. “We’re not doing any good being upset with each other. We all made mistakes over these last few weeks, especially these past few days. None of us are guilt free in this. We all have our omega’s blood on our hands. Fighting amongst ourselves will only fray the bonds more than they already have been.” 

Johnny deflates with a sigh, standing there in Simon’s arms for a moment. Kyle is right. They all can feel it, the way their bonds are fraying. Their pack is resting on a dangerous ledge, tipping back and forth with every strong emotion, every argument, every sour feeling. They’re all holding onto that bond, trying to pull it back to keep it from falling into the abyss. As angry as they are with each other, just one of them letting go will be the end of the pack. 

“There’s nothing we can do to change what happened.” John says, looking up at the other three. “Kyle’s right. I led us all in the wrong direction, but we can’t go back and change it. We can’t undo what happened to us, we can’t undo what we did, we can’t undo what we...” He lets out a breath. “What I let happen to our omega.” 

“She won’t trust us again.” Simon says, his hands still shaking as he releases Johnny. They haven’t stopped shaking since he scruffed you a second time. 

“She won’t.” John affirms, no matter how badly it hurts him. “She won’t forgive us either. The best we can do is to give her what she needs, what she wants. Right now that’s space. Dr. Keller will keep us updated as things develop.” He pushes himself up to stand, looking at each member of his team, of his pack. They all share the same guilty look on their faces, they all hold the same anger at themselves deep inside. “This may be the hardest mission we’ve ever had. No matter what we feel...none of that matters anymore. What matters is keeping our pack together. What matters is that we keep those bonds from fraying. We lose ourselves, we lose everything.” 

“Still sore?”

You nod, wincing as it sends a bolt of pain through your body. 

“I know.” Dr. Keller says, adjusting the ice pack on your shoulder. “Hurts like a bitch, but luckily it won’t cause any lasting damage.” 

You blink at Dr. Keller, staring at her for a beat. You don’t think you’ve ever heard her curse before. You’re not sure she was ever capable of it. 

“What? I use swear words. Sometimes.” She says, almost like she can read your thoughts. “Sometimes expletives fit the moment better than any flouncy, sophisticated words do. This feels like the proper situation to use some.” She lets out a sigh. “Your shoulder will be the worst of the pain, at least physically. The mental pain...well, that’s not something I can treat with pain medicine. Shouldn’t, would be the proper wording there.” 

Some people do use it to numb the pain. 

“We all made a lot of bad decisions these last few days. Your support system, those you were supposed to be able to trust, failed you.” She stares down at you, emotion shining in her eyes. It’s a mirror of John’s own stare when he’d looked at you, but this time there’s no anger burning inside of you. Dr. Keller didn’t betray you. Dr. Keller will mean her apology, because you know that’s what’s coming. “I know you’ve probably heard this a lot over the last few hours, but I am sorry too. I shouldn’t have left you alone like that. I shouldn’t have fallen for that phone call...I should have been there.” 

You stare up at her, tears pooling in your eyes. If she had stayed, things would have been worse. It was almost better she left you. You can’t lose her. You need her now more than you ever did. 

Tears streak a flaming path down your face, a choked sob tearing its way through your trachea up through your lips. It burns your throat, no amount of water you’ve had in the last few hours has been able to ease the ache that’s taken up permanent residence there. 

Graves choked you. It’s the bruising from his hand squeezing your windpipe making you ache. Your voice may never recover, may never go back to normal. Crying hurts, hurts more than just your mind, your chest. It hurts your whole body, yet you can’t stop. 

“I know, I know.” She says, petting your hair as you sob. “I’m not going anywhere this time. We’ll get through this, okay? It’ll be a long road, but you won’t be walking it alone. You’ve got me, and you’ve got your pack.” 

Your gaze hardens at the mention of your pack, the sob in your throat coming out almost as an angry grunt. The thought of them makes your chest ache, the pain of their betrayal burning hot in you. “I don’t want them.” You whisper. 

“I don’t blame you.” Dr. Keller says, leaning against the side rail of your bed. “They let you down. The betrayed your trust in a lot of ways. They made you feel abandoned, and then abandoned you when you needed them most, even if they thought they were doing the right thing at the time. You have every right to be angry at them, upset with them. They hurt you in the worst way they could.” She pulls the blanket higher over you, tucking you in. “You’ve gone through a lot these last few days. Some very traumatic events, on top of being injured and your body going through extreme stress. You’re exhausted in every way you can be. Rest first. Worry about everything else later. Doctor’s orders.” 

“I did it to myself.” You say before she can walk away. 

She turns back to look at you. “What?” 

“I made myself distress.” You say. “I made my omega come out.” 

“That was very brave of you.” She says, giving you a soft smile. “Sometimes we have to take drastic measures even knowing the risks. You did what you had to in the moment and I think it was the right choice. You didn’t know what was going to happen, what was happening. Things worked out and you’re still here. That’s all that matters.” 

You think about her words for a moment. You did make it out. The fact you’re here means someone found you, someone saved you. Someone scruffed you. 

“It was Simon, wasn’t it?” You ask, even though you already know the answer to that. 

You wouldn’t let him leave. 

“You’ll have to ask him for the whole story, but yes. He’s the one that rescued you.” She adjusts the blanket around you again. “Get some rest.” She moves the call button closer. “I’m on the other end of that button if you need me.” 

You stare up at the ceiling after she leaves, counting the tiles above you. It looks like every other ceiling you’ve ever seen in a doctor's office or clinic or hospital. It’s not all that different from the ceiling in the med center on base. 

Base. 

You don’t ever want to see that place again. You don’t want to step foot in the barracks, you don’t even want to think about the clinical sterility of the buildings and the cold comfortless spaces meant for nothing more than to serve their purpose. Just like you. You served your purpose. You proved their point, even if it was never the true point of the initiative. Packs will get stronger with an omega, but it will come at the detriment of that omega. 

The job always comes first. 

There was a time you thought perhaps it wouldn’t. Maybe they could put it all behind them  and put themselves first, put you first. Then they proved they can’t. They won’t even put you first when you’re at the threat of being tortured. You were hurt because they wouldn’t put you first. You are hurt because they wouldn’t put you first. 

You don’t care about them. You don’t care about their excuses. You don’t care about the bonds or the claims or the emotions. 

You’d be happy if they left you here. Just a few days ago you were panicking about them leaving you, about them deciding you weren’t enough and abandoning you. 

Now you wish they would. 

“Has she said anything?” 

“Not much.” He sighs. “She won’t see any of us. I can hardly blame her.” 

“You made a choice, John.” Kate says, hands wrapped around her cup of coffee. “Choices have consequences.” 

“You were right. Then again, you usually are.” He sips at his tea. Bitter without milk, but then again, he’d prefer a glass of whiskey right now over tea. “I don’t know how to fix this.” 

“I don’t think you can.” Kate takes a sip of her coffee. “She’s going to decide when she wants you to fix this, if she wants you to fix it.” 

John lets out a sigh. “We’re her pack, it’s our job-” 

“You’ve failed at your job.” Kate says, her gaze hardening as she stares at him. “You’re good at being a soldier, you’re good at being a leader, you’re good at saving the world, but that’s not your only job. You have a responsibility to take care of your omega, and you failed. You made your choice, and you turned your back on her. She’s not a soldier, John. She’s never been tortured, she’s never been left for dead, she’s never taken a life before and here she’s been through all of that in the span of two days. You made a choice, John. You made a choice knowing damn well what the consequences would be.” 

He sits in silence, staring at Kate. It’s not often she gets mad at him, the frustration evident on her face. It’s a mirror of the anger and disappointment on the faces of his packmates. They’re all feeling the weight of his decision, of his mistakes. They’re all feeling the weight of their rapidly fraying bonds. 

“You have a choice to make now, John.” She stares at him pointedly. “You pick up the pieces from this, you all take the time to recover and heal. Then what? Things aren’t as simple as we thought they were, John. None of us knew what was going to happen. We were all so focused on the potential benefits that we all overlooked just how much of a detriment this would be. Your omega hasn’t had a choice in anything in her entire life. Every decision has been made for her, whether or not she wanted it. She has had no say in any of this. She’s been nothing more than a variable in an experiment, a statistic, a number, a list of pros and cons. She’s been reduced down to nothing more than an object.” 

John winces at her words, the weight on his shoulders growing heavier and heavier. He’s treated you as nothing more than an object, even if not directly. Leaving you so easily, yelling at you when you made an innocent mistake, letting you be tortured because he couldn’t get his head out of his own arse. 

“We all know she’s more than that. Far more than that. But she will never have any say in anything, unless you let her. Outside of your pack, she has nothing. In your pack? She should have the loudest voice.” Kate leans her arms on the table, shifting closer to him. “Right now she has no voice because you’ve proven where your loyalties lie, and they’re not with her. You have one more decision to make, John. Do you keep standing where you are, put the job first and wear your omega down until she’s nothing but an empty shell? Or, do you take this chance while you have it and finally put her first?” 

Kate pushes herself up to stand, grabbing her cup of coffee. John’s not used to feeling small. He’s used to being in charge, being the captain, being in control. People look to him, they listen to him, he’s the one everyone turns to when things go to shit to lead them out. 

He’s not even capable of doing that anymore. 

“Your life as you knew it ended as soon as she was placed in your pack. It’s up to you to decide how it continues.” Kate leaves with those heavy parting words, the door clicking shut behind her. 

John stares down at his cup of tea, the cup half full, or perhaps half empty depending on how one looks at it. It feels more than half empty now, spilling slowly through some microscopic hole in the side. It’ll only be so long before that hole will widen, worn down by the weak paper the cup is made of, the liquid eating away at the cup until there’s nothing but a puddle of tea on the table, slowly rolling towards the edge to dip onto the floor. 

That microscopic hole started as soon as they left you alone for the first time, and none of them were aware enough to even notice it. 

That hole is a gaping wound now. The contents inside turned acidic as soon as he cut you off in his disappointment, as soon as he started digging into the belly of the initiative. That acid has been eating away slowly at the fragile bonds that were in place. Fragile. They really were. No matter how strong they all thought those bonds were growing to be, they were built with fear and anxiety and uncertainty. Uncertainty of the future and what it may hold, anxiety towards a new pack and an entirely new shift in lifestyle, and fear of one day losing a pack member. 

Bonds built upon such frailty can hold no weight should one piece fall. 

How strong can bonds really be when you live with that knowledge, that constant fear that someone could die at any time? Someone in the pack, someone you’ve bonded with, someone you’ve grown a relationship with, might leave and never return because of the risks of their job. How strong can those bonds be? Was that the point of the experiments all along, the 141 and the initiative? Testing the limits a pack could be pushed to, testing if bonds could be formed in such a high stress environment and if so, how strong they’d be? What limits would they have gone to, to test that theory? Would they have gone to the point of sacrificing one of them to test those theories, had the truth not come out when it did? One wrong decision, one wrong step in the field and everything can crumble. Would they have gone to that length to test just how a bonded pack would react, if they could still function after everything? 

The sacrifice was you. 

Kate is right. You’re not part of their world. You’re not a soldier, you haven’t been conditioned to live with that fear, you can’t be conditioned to live with that fear. You shouldn’t have to be conditioned to live with that fear. You had no choice in this. None of it. From the moment you presented, nothing in your life would be yours. From the moment you presented, you would never make a choice for yourself again. 

The sacrifice was you. 

And he played right into their hands. 

The cup is blurring as he stares at it, his eyes blinking rapidly. 

They say an omega is the balance that holds a pack together. It’s a delicate bond, a single thread coiled around the structure of the pack. Wear that thread down until it snaps and everything crumbles. How long have you been fraying? How long have you been silently screaming for help, desperately trying to hold the pieces of the pack together like a strongman holds two pillars up by chains? You never had chains, you’ve been holding everything together with sewing thread, fighting desperately to keep the pieces from crumbling at the risk of being torn in half. 

How long have you been silently screaming? 

It’s all his fault. He’s been wearing you down, he’s been fraying that bond fiber by fiber. He’s been standing there watching you fight to hold the pack together while screaming at him to help, screaming at him to take one of those threads and hold at least half of the weight for you. 

That’s what he’s supposed to do. 

The threads have snapped. You were torn in half by the weight and those threads are gone. They’re crumbling, the bonds coming undone, unraveling minute by minute, second by second. They’re losing each other because they lost you. 

He covers his face with his hands, not even bothering to try and silence his sobs. 

Something has pulled you from the sweet arms of sleep. 

It’s dark in the room, the only light coming from the one behind the bed. The curtains are drawn over the window, keeping you hidden from the darkness outside the window. It’s late, or at least you think it is. You can’t quite see the clock in the darkness with your one good eye. It’s fuzzy in the darkness, too far away for you to truly find where the hands lie. 

Shadows fill the corners of the room, oppressive and claustrophobic. The longer you stare, the bigger they seem to grow as if they might suck the light right out of the room and swallow you in darkness. The longer you stare, the more it seems like there’s something there, something hidden in the darkness. 

Something is staring at you from the shadows. There’s eyes on you, your skin prickling from the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. The more you stare into the darkness, the more the shadows begin to take shape, forming monstrous beasts just being held at bay by the light. 

“Hi, darlin’.” 

No. No, no, no, no. 

“Miss me? It’s been a long time.” 

You shake your head, your heart monitor starting to beep rapidly as your heart pounds in your chest. “N-No.” 

Phil sits forward in the chair in the corner, his face coming into the light. It is him, blonde hair, blue eyes, that disarming grin on his face. He can’t be here...unless he escaped before your pack could catch him. Did they manage to catch him? You don’t know. You hadn’t even thought to ask about Phil or his whereabouts. No one informed you either. 

“No? You didn’t miss me?” He tilts his head, his eyes shining with faux hurt and disappointment. “That’s not very nice of you to say. I thought your father taught you your manners. Have you forgotten them in the time you’ve been away.” He tsks, shaking his head. “Those boys have been letting you get lazy.” 

Your breathing is picking up, panic starting to fill you as you stare at him. It’s impossible. He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here. He couldn’t have just walked onto base and walked into the medical center, could he? Corporal McKinney fooled everyone for months and drove right off base with you in his car and no one said anything. How much would the guards at the front entrance of the base take as a bribe to let him in? 

Why isn’t your pack outside your door? Why would they let him in? 

They had to have put out a warning. Someone should have put Phil’s face everywhere, sent out a message, something. 

He lets out a sigh, pushing himself to stand. “I guess I’ll have to teach you some manners myself.” 

The glint of metal catches your eye, the icepick catching the light as he steps closer. 

“No, no,” You shake your head, your fingers scrambling for the call button.

Not again. Please, not again. 

Your fingers close around the call button, your thumb pushing it over and over and over again. Someone has to hear it. 

He lifts the ice pick, reaching out for you...

You’re being shaken. A scream tears from your lips as you struggle, trying to get away from whoever is holding you. Your body is alight with pain but you wait for more, for the ice pick to drive into your scent gland again, open the wound and light your body on fire once more. You expect it to come down again and again, filling your body with holes so you bleed out on the floor. 

Where is your pack?

“Easy, easy. You’re alright.” 

You know that voice. 

You’re sobbing, your brain slowly beginning to come back into consciousness. You had been asleep. You were dreaming. The light is on in the room, the harsh fluorescent a welcome presence for once. The shadows are gone, dissipated by the bright light overhead. Phil is gone, wiped away with the rest of the shadows. 

He’s nowhere to be seen because he wasn’t there in the first place. 

It was just a dream. It was just a nightmare. 

There’s a hand on yours, gently easing your fingers from the call button. You’re still trying to press it, your thumb moving almost automatically. You started pressing it in your sleep. 

“You’re okay. Breathe for me.” 

It’s Dr. Keller’s voice. It’s her arms wrapped around you, trying to stop you from moving as much. Your body is screaming in pain, but the panic flooding your body makes you almost numb to it. The pain in your chest is screaming with every rapid inhale, tightening and tightening the more until your fingers and toes start to go numb. 

“Deep breaths.” Dr. Keller says, her own breaths slow as she holds you. “In and out.” 

The inhale catches, the air shuddering into your lungs before you hold it, trying to force your body to calm down, just like the two of you practiced so many times. The heart monitor is beeping rapidly, another thing that must have translated in your state between wakefulness and sleep when Phil had shown up. Your heart is beating rapidly, thudding in your chest almost violently. It’s been through a lot these last few days. You wouldn’t be surprised if it just gave out suddenly. 

“Phil.” You gasp out, still trying to slow your breathing. “Phil was here.” 

“It was just a nightmare.” Dr. Keller says calmly, keeping her arms wrapped around you. “No one has come in or out of this room besides me. The guard outside won’t let anyone else in.” 

Guard. There’s someone outside the door. Your pack? No. She would have said so.

Where is your pack?

Phil was never here. It was just a nightmare. 

The last two thoughts repeat over and over in your head like a mantra as you start to cry, sobs wracking your body. You hate it, the fear, the terror, the anguish you felt as he lifted that ice pick, ready to stab you with it. 

“I hate it.” You croak out, voicing your thoughts for the first time in a few hours. 

“I know.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s normal to have nightmares after a traumatic event.” She adjusts her hold on you, tucking you against her chest. “It’s your brain trying to process what happened, trying to work its way through the trauma of the last few days. It’s cruel, but it’s a necessary part of healing.” 

Healing. 

Are you healing? Can you heal after everything? The pain is intense, not just outside but inside as well. The hurt, the anger, the fear, the anxiety, the panic, the depression, the rage, the betrayal. It’s too much. It’s so much all at once. You hate it. You hate that this happened in the first place. You hate that you have to go through this, have to heal, have to live through more nightmares. 

You hate your pack. That’s why they’re not here. 

For all you know they’ve left you. For all you know they’re on a plane back to the UK. 

Why would they want a broken, angry omega?

“I just want to be okay.” You sob, face pressed against her shoulder. 

“I know.” She says, cradling the back of your head, keeping you tight in her arms. “I'm so sorry this happened to you. I know words can't change that it happened, words can't make it all better, but we'll get you to where you're as okay as you can be again. I promise you I’ll do everything I can to get you there.” She leans her chin on the top of your head, squeezing you against her chest. “We'll get there, no matter how long it takes.” 

How long will it take? How long will your pain and suffering drag on for? Your body will heal eventually, but will your mind? Are you going to be this way for the rest of your life? Will you ever know peace again? But...have you ever really known peace? Your home growing up certainly wasn’t peaceful. Your presentation wasn’t peaceful, and neither was life at the institute. Being chosen by the FBI for this initiative that never existed in the first place certainly wasn’t peaceful. Despite how happy you became with your pack, even that life wasn’t peaceful. What little peace you thought you had was upended in the blink of an eye. 

How easily everything crumbled. 

Will it be possible to put it all back together again? 

Do you want to put it back together again? 

Alcohol is easy to find in a place like this. Soldiers gravitate towards whatever crutch they can find to erase the nightmares they live in. It numbs the pain and the brain and keeps one sane, or at least that’s what his father used to say. 

Of course his father would drink himself into a stupor every Friday night, and he’d wake Saturday morning still in his chair with a full breakfast waiting for him. 

Much like his father, John has lost track of how many times he’s filled his glass. 

It’s been a long time since he’s gotten this drunk. He shook that habit after a shameful morning over ten years ago. He’d just gotten back from a bad deployment, one that gets labeled as a “mission gone wrong.” It failed under his command. He lost a lot of lives, not just his fellow soldiers. He’d drunk himself past a stupor and woke up passed out in a bush covered in vomit outside the gate with a rather angry CO over him. 

He shook the habit after that, easing himself to just a glass every so often on those days he needs to take the edge off, on those days he needs to numb the aches. 

Then Kyle came along. Kyle, his sweet beta with his ethical moral compass. His sweet beta who deserved a better life than what he was pulled into. Dutiful, loyal, principled. A good soldier, but a better man than John could ever be. He could fall into Kyle, bury himself under those soft touches, the soothing whispers, the comfort Kyle could offer him. The screaming in his head became less and less as he allowed Kyle to do what he was meant to do at his core. 

Comfort. 

Then you came along. 

He found himself turning to the liquid medicine less and less because he could bury himself in you. He had an omega, he had someone he could lean on, someone who understood without having to be told. The bond between alpha and omega is something so sacred and special, something to be cherished. 

And he threw it all away. 

He downs another glass, staring at the almost empty bottle. It had been sealed when he got it, brand new and fresh. He can feel it, the fogginess of alcohol clouding his brain. The world is swirling, melting together. He can’t feel much of anything anymore, yet that pain lingers deep in his chest. 

The bond. 

It’s like an open wound, gaping and pulsing. Eventually it’ll slow, eventually it’ll give out. That bond will be cut and everything will crumble. 

It’s all his fault. 

He ended things, he ended the pack, he ended the bond, he ended you. 

Would Graves have killed you? Would Shepherd have given those orders if they pushed onward, if they caught up to him? Graves would have done it slowly, taken his time, reveled in it. They would have gotten a video of it, hours long as you were tortured to death, zoomed in on your face as the life left your eyes. 

The thought makes his stomach churn. He wants to vomit at the mental picture of you laying there, covered in blood, those lifeless eyes staring at him. Eyes that once shone with life and happiness. Despite everything you had been happy. Despite everything that spark inside you was never extinguished. A fiery little thing that would give what they gave right back to them. 

Now you’re not even smoldering. 

You’ve been reduced to ashes, and it’s all his fault. It’s all his doing. 

He skips the glass this time, drinking straight from the bottle.

“Have you seen John recently?” Kyle asks, standing in the doorway to their temporary living quarters. It’s a single room with two bunk beds. Far too tight of a space for their quickly souring dynamics. 

“No, not recently.” Johnny says, lifting his head up from his pillow. He’s been crying again. “You, LT?”

LT. They argued earlier...more like yelled in each others’ faces until they had to be separated at the risk of things getting physical. Kyle’s not even sure what they had been arguing about in the first place. Probably something miniscule and unimportant. Everything seems to be setting them off like grenades. Pull the pin and watch them explode. They’re all on edge, all of them feeling the distance growing wider and wider despite their best efforts to stop it. 

“No.” Simon says simply, staring up at the bottom of the bunk over him. He’s flat on his back, hands folded on his stomach. He looks like a corpse, might have been mistaken for one if it hadn’t been for the slow rise and fall of his chest. He’s still in his mask. He hasn’t taken it off since he arrived in the field. 

It’s late, but none of them can sleep. None of them have been able to get much sleep since they arrived nearly two days ago. Weeks without good, decent sleep wears on the brain too. 

“If he comes back here, text me.” Kyle says before closing the door, resuming his search for their missing captain. 

John has been beating himself up for nearly two days now. Kyle’s never seen his captain quite so distraught and lost. He’s blaming himself, which in all fairness, he should be doing. It is his fault. Kyle will be the first to point blame in this situation, but none of them are truly blameless. None of them questioned it, none of them even argued with him on that decision. They followed blindly as they were supposed to for the first time in a long time. They didn’t question their captain, their alpha, their leader. 

He hates himself for it. 

Why didn’t he question it? Why didn’t he argue? Why didn’t he voice his opinion, fight back against that decision? He trusted his alpha when he shouldn’t have, and you paid for it. 

He’s glad he didn’t have to see you. He’s glad he didn’t have to face down the state Johnny and Simon found you in. He’s glad he didn’t have to see what you looked like even after the blood had been cleaned off and the true horror was revealed. 

He hasn’t gone to see you at all. 

He’s not sure he could handle it. You won’t care either way from the sound of it. You’ve been reduced to a shell, silent and empty. You’ve barely said a word since this morning, instead just lying there and staring at the ceiling according to the doctor when she’d updated them this afternoon.

Your body will heal slowly, but your mind will remain a battleground. 

He leaves the barracks, looking up at the dark sky. It’s clear tonight. He’d probably see the stars if there wasn’t constant light pollution around the base. What do the stars look like here? He’s stared up at the stars constantly in the last few weeks in places there was little light pollution. His only comfort about being away from you so long was the knowledge that you were under the same sky. Be it day or night, the stars were overhead. You wouldn’t be able to see them either way, but they were shining for you too. 

Now you’re both under the same stars, but you’re both still so far away.

He lets out a sigh, lowering his gaze. He has a job to do, a captain to find. 

“Where are you John?” He breathes, looking in all directions, trying to decide which way to go next. He had stopped in at the med center already, but he wasn’t there. No one had seen him, even the doctor. He’s searched everywhere he could think to search, but his captain is nowhere to be found. 

John will kill him if he requests a base-wide search. 

He walks around the side of the barracks, hoping maybe he’ll run into John coming back this way. Usually he wouldn’t bother searching for him, but with his mind how it has been, Kyle can’t help but be worried. Even with the bonds fraying between them, he still has that instinctual need to make sure his alpha is okay. Instincts can’t be ignored. No matter how much bonds between packs fray, instincts will always remain the same. 

That’s why he still feels that urge to go and see you. 

John will kill him if he requests a base-wide search. 

He knows how self-destructive John can be despite how composed he makes himself appear. He’s only seen his alpha in that state once, and he has a feeling he’s about to a second time. 

He leans against the wall with a sigh when he reaches the other side of the barracks. Nothing. No sign of him. No texts from Johnny or Simon either. He’d asked Dr. Keller to let him know if he shows up in the med center too, but there’s been nothing. No word. No signs. 

Maybe he should just give up looking. John will find his way back to the barracks eventually. Or he won’t. 

That could be tomorrow’s problem. A distraction, a mission, something to give them purpose and force them to unite again. 

Find their missing captain. Find their missing alpha.

He turns back around to follow the sidewalk back to the front of the barracks when he hears shuffling footsteps dragging on the concrete. He turns, squinting into the darkness between lamps as a figure stumbles through the shadows, muttering under its breath. He knows that voice, he knows that figure. 

John. 

John stumbles forward, nearly falling but Kyle reaches out, catching him. His mind is racing, silently checking for any blood, any sign of injury, but there’s nothing. 

Maybe everything is finally getting to him. Maybe his body has finally been pushed to the limit and it’s giving out. He’s having a medical emergency. 

“Easy, sir.” He says, trying to calm his panic as he fights to keep John upright despite John’s body wanting to fall the rest of the way onto the ground. Kyle takes a breath in, catching the sour scent of alcohol wafting off his captain. 

Not a medical emergency, then. 

He sought out some liquid comfort instead. 

The thought makes Kyle’s chest twinge still. 

“’S all over.” John slurs, his weight getting heavier and heavier. “Everything is over.” He turns his head, blinking slowly. “Kyle?” 

“It’s me, sir. I’ve got you.” He slings John’s arm over his shoulders, making his weight easier to hold. 

“Kyle.” He slurs again, the two syllables blurring together. “Too good to me, Kyle.” John pulls his arm free, stumbling forward. 

Kyle just manages to lessen his fall onto the concrete, making sure John doesn’t smack the back of his head at least. He’ll have some scrapes and bruises tomorrow, though. Right now he probably can’t even feel it. If he was responsible, he’d take John to the med center, let him sleep off the alcohol on the safety of a gurney, but that would probably just cause more problems for everyone. 

John would be pissed when he woke up. 

He lets out a sigh as he stands there, staring down at his captain. John’s on his back, eyes up and focused on the sky, hiccuping every so often. He’s never seen his captain quite this drunk before, though he has heard stories of when John was younger. 

“I’ve killed her.” John mumbles. “I’ve killed all of us.” 

Kyle drops to a knee beside John. “You haven’t killed anyone.” 

“She’s fading away. Soon she’ll be gone.” He murmurs. “We’ll go too.” John pushes himself up to sit. “It’s all over. Everything is over.” 

Kyle grips John’s arms before he can fall back again, holding him in place. “Nothing is over yet, sir. We can still do something. It’ll just take time.” 

John turns to look at him, his eyes hazy and far away. “Kyle.” John says his name softly, reaching out to brush his fingers across Kyle’s cheek. “Pretty boy.” He slumps against Kyle’s chest, his weight nearly making both of them topple over. “Too good to me, Kyle.” 

“I care about you a lot, sir.” Kyle says, rubbing his back. “More than I think you realize.” He murmurs the last bit more to himself than anything. Not that John will likely remember any of this in the morning. “We should get you in bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” 

They do. They have to decide what to do next. 

“Come on.” He says, hauling John to his feet carefully. John lets him, letting Kyle wrap his arm around his shoulders. 

It’s slow going, Kyle half dragging John back to the barracks. He’s quiet at least, only the occasional scuffle of his footsteps as he stumbles breaking the quiet night. He gets John back to their room fairly easily, easing him into the other bottom bunk across from Simon. The room is still and silent aside from the occasional sniffle from one of the top bunks. 

He grabs the blanket from his own bunk, draping it across John instead. Maybe in his drunk state, the scent will bring him some comfort, help ease that ache inside of him.

He’s hoping John’s scent will do the same for him. 

“It’ll be alright, sir.” He says, making sure his captain is comfortable. He stands up, staring down at his Captain. “Everything will be fine.” 

He’s not sure who he’s trying to convince. 

John stares down into his tea as they sit around a table. His head is throbbing, pulsing heavily behind his eyes. It’s his own damn fault, going out and getting drunk like that. He hasn’t done it in years, yet he couldn’t stand the pain gnawing away at his chest. Alcohol hadn’t fixed it. It’s still there, still pulsing away. The alcohol had only numbed it at least for a few hours, and if anything, it made it worse. 

“Kate left this morning back to DC.” He says, glancing up at the other three members of his team. “They're still working on cleanup and helping Alex and Farah track Shepherd. I spoke with Dr. Keller this morning. We’ll be able to fly out soon.” 

The words hang heavy in the air. He hadn’t mentioned you at all, but he’s not sure he could without breaking down. You are improving slowly, Christine had said, giving him a sympathetic look as he squinted in the harsh fluorescents. She knew. She could tell just by looking at him. She’s that good at her job. 

He’s glad they have her. He’s glad you have her.  

“Where are we going tae go?” Johnny asks. 

“We can’t go back to base.” Simon says. 

“You’re right. Going back to base is too risky.” John says. “Shepherd could have eyes there already. And with her mind where it is...” Taking you back would be too much too soon, even without the risk. One of their own had already betrayed them once. They can’t trust anyone anymore. “We need somewhere secluded and quiet. Somewhere no one will know we’re going where we can lay low for a while.” Both out of necessity for their safety, but also for your sake. 

It falls silent between them. Shepherd knows all of their possible safehouses, all of the places they mind go to stay hidden. Those only they know off the record are hard to get to, requiring miles of hiking. You wouldn't be up for that even without the physical injuries, and they doubt you'd let one of them carry you. If they had to get out quickly...

“My parents have a place,” Kyle says, glancing up at them from his own cup of tea. “Out in Cornwall. A cottage near the cliffs. It’s quiet, secluded. No one knows about it but us. Tourist season is over too. There won't be many out there poking around this time of year.” Anyone wandering around out there that close would be suspicious.

“It’s a good option.” Johnny shrugs. 

“It’s our only option.” Simon says. 

“It’s exactly what we need.” Kyle says. “Trying to rent this time of year will only draw attention, and we can't trust we won't be ratted out. Shepherd likely still has allies. We were betrayed by one of our own before.” Kyle says. 

“You're sure no one else knows about it?” John asks, looking at his beta. 

“Just my parents and my siblings. They wouldn’t ask any questions if I told them it was being used.” Kyle shrugs. “It might be our best option.”

John looks around at them. It is their best option for now. He knows Kyle's family is just like the rest of theirs. They know they can't know and they won't ask questions. 

“We had a conversation once, months ago.” John says. “She told me she wanted to live next to the sea someday. She wants to be close enough that she can smell it and see it.” 

He pauses thinking back months ago after Simon left, after you were so affected by his absence. That conversation when you asked if he’d ever leave for you, when he told you if your life was ever in danger because of them he’d leave in a heartbeat. He’s made a liar out of himself. He broke his promise, so many promises, made not just to you. Not just to the pack. 

He glances at the other three, fighting back the lump in his throat, the endless threat of tears that has been rising like the tide and threatening to drown him at any moment. He’s made his decision, he’s made up his mind. 

You have to come first. 

His priorities have changed. There’s no initiative to follow, no orders to be given out. Kate was right. This is their moment to change things, this is his moment to change things. His pack will follow. Despite everything, they’ll trust him to make the right decision. They won’t hesitate to challenge him anymore, but there’s still that deeply ingrained trust in their alpha and captain. 

The alpha comes first. 

No, the omega comes first. 

He takes a sip of his tea, bitter without any milk, but it’ll do. “She wanted to be close to the sea.” He looks back up at the other three having made his decision. “Taking her there might just be what she needs.” 

NEXT ->

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[starb3rrys]

Can I request pt 2 of the stuck in a tight space with Ranpo, Dazai, and chuuya?

Hello! Thank you for the request! I’m pleased to see that so many people liked my “A Tight Fit~” head-canons! I got a lot of requests for a part 2 with different characters so I will respond to this one and just tag the rest (Sorry-). Anyways, I hope you enjoy these head-canons! <3

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

A Tight Fit~ ❀Part 2❀

Ft. Ranpo, Dazai, Chuuya, Fukuzawa

✾Part 1✾

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Ranpo

Scenario: Ranpo had deduced that a criminal hideout was located in an old abandoned coal mine. You had accompanied Ranpo on his investigation as his “Bodyguard” of sorts, in case anything went down hill…and sure enough, something did.

**THUD**, the loud sound of your two bodies falling and crashing together filled the dark mine, the ground underneath you had crumbled, causing the two of you to fall into a small, cramped hole.

“Ugh…my head…”, Ranpo said with a pained and annoyed tone.

You opened your eyes but were faced with pitch darkness, “I can’t see anything…”

Ranpo scoffed, “Well of course captain obvious, the force of the fall caused the flashlight to go out, it also caused you to fall on top of me.”, he was clearly annoyed with the current situation.

You tried to move, but stoped as you heard a quiet groan leave Ranpo’s lips.

You were confused, was he hurt?

“Hey Ranpo, Are you alrig-“ “Don’t move.”, he cut you off with a stern tone.

You were stunned, you didn’t understand why his tone suddenly changed, “What? Wh-“, you froze as you felt something under you, something hard was poking you.

You knew exactly what it was.

The realization made you blush profusely, you jumped up in surprise.

Another groan left Ranpo as you landed back on his lap, his hands gripped your hips to keep you still.

“I said don’t move.”, his voice sounded annoyed but you could hear a hint of embarrassment.

You sat still on him, flushed and embarrassed at your current position, how were you going to get out of here? You can’t move, there’s no light, you can’t just stay like this forever…

The flashlight beside you flickered, and the light revealed your current position.

As you looked down, you were faced with Ranpo’s expression; his cheeks were flushed, eyes were open, as his hair was sprawled on the floor messily, an annoyed yet embarrassed frown was plastered on his face.

“Grab on to that rock above you and try to climb out.”, Ranpo spoke with a stern voice, letting go of your hips.

You snapped out of your trance and quickly nodded, you did as he asked and eventually made it out of the hole.

“Now pull me out.”, Ranpo instructed with a quiet tone as he stretched his hand up so you could take a hold of it.

You took his hand and pulled him out, he was surprisingly lightweight…

Once you two stood up and brushed off your clothes, you looked at each other, blush still decorated your cheeks…

“Ranpo I-“, “Let’s postpone this investigation…”, he said quietly as he turned away and started walking, you quickly followed behind as you both made your way out of the cave.

You swear you could see a soft pout on his face as you both walked silently.

You two never spoke of that incident again, often avoiding each others gaze. Although he’ll never admit it, he loved the feeling of you on top of him and would give anything to feel you like that again…

Dazai

Scenario: You and Dazai were a troublemaking duo who often would prank others and cause mischief just for the hell of it. So it was a surprise to no one as you two ran across the agency building, trying to escape a furious Kunikida who didn't seem too pleased with you messing around with his notebook. In a split second decision, Dazai pulled you into a small, dark, and cramped storage room, shutting the door and covering your mouth.

“Mmm?!”, you let out a muffled noise of confusion, as a strong hand covered your mouth.

“Shh...”, Dazai spoke, and you looked up; your eyes meeting Dazais, the silence broke as you two let out a quiet snicker.

As the quiet laughter ceased, you moved Dazai's hand away from your mouth, “Do you think he saw us hiding in here?”, you whispered.

“I doubt it, we are way faster than he is.”, he whispered back.

“He looked so mad!”, you said with a faint giggle.

“I know! I'm pretty sure I saw him foaming at the mouth!”, Dazai muttered with an amused tone.

Quiet footsteps could be heard down the hall...

Dazais hand swiftly returned to your mouth, keeping you quiet.

You scooted closer to Dazai, your chest pressing against his, trying to avoid being close to the door-

“Mnh...’, a low moan left Dazais lips, your eyes widened at the noise.

You slowly looked up at Dazai with confused eyes, his face flushed in embarrassment as your eyes met.

At first, you didn't understand what he was groaning about- that's when you felt it...a soft poke against your crotch.

Your face burned red at the realization, you were quickly snapped out of your thoughts as the footsteps grew closer.

Your breath hitched as the footsteps stopped right in front of the door, a shadow could be seen under the door.

Dazais arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer, making you both groan.

You both slapped each other's hands on one anothers mouth to shut each other up, you both stared at each other, wide eyed and not knowing what to do or say...you were both close...so close...

The door swung open, startling the two of you, quickly letting go of each other, “THERE YOU TWO ARE! I OUGHTA BREAK YOUR NECKS!!”, Kunikida yelled.

No snarky comment left Dazais lips, nor yours as you both quietly walked out of the storage room.

“Uh?”, Kunikida was muddled as he saw the two of you just- walk out; uncharacteristically quiet, avoiding eye contact with each other, as flush decorated your faces.

“Jeez, What happened in there?”, Kunikida asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing.”, you both said with an embarrassed tone as you turned around and went your separate ways.

You both made an unspoken agreement to never mention what happened in that storage room, but you both sure as hell won't forget about it any time soon...

Chuuya

Scenario: It was a busy Monday morning, all of the port mafia employees ran around going on missions, conversing important information and such. Ironically, for a big, rich company- the port mafia’s elevators were pretty standard size, which did not work well with how many employees worked in the building. As you entered the elevator, a flood of employees entered as well, making the elevator pretty cramped…pressing you against a certain mafia executive…

“Oof”, you let out a soft grunt as your body collided with someone else’s.

You quickly turned around, “Agh, sorry…”, you mutter out an apology, your eyes widened as you finally saw who you bumped into.

The man brushed his vest off, “It’s fine, no worries the elevator is pretty cramped.”, Chuuya reassured you.

You quickly fixed your hair and looked down, avoiding eye contact, feeling a bit nervous standing in front of a higher up, especially one of the five port mafia executives…he could easily get you fired if he wanted t-.

Your thoughts were interrupted as another swarm of employees entered the elevator.

Everyone in front of you moved back to make more room, causing you to get pushed back against Chuuya.

Chests pressed tightly against each others as his hands instinctively found their way around your waist.

Chuuya held back a quiet moan, covering his mouth with his hand as his face turned as red as his hair…

You didn’t dare look at him as you felt his hands on you, you know it wasn’t on purpose…the elevator was just too cramped, yeah that’s all-

A soft poke by your crotch made your mind go blank, your eyes trailed down and you could see a small tent in his pants, clear as day.

Your mind ran 1000mph at this point, your heart skipping beats as you internally panicked.

**DING**, the elevator doors opened.

Chuuyas hands left your waist, snapping you out of your trance.

You turned and looked at Chuuya as he quickly walked out of the elevator, his hand tilted his hat down to cover his eyes but failed to cover the deep shade of red on his cheeks.

You were left alone in the elevator as his figure quickly disappeared amongst the crowd…

Though that interaction was short lived, it greatly affected the way you both viewed each other now…who knew you would have such a memorable experience with a port mafia executive?

Fukuzawa

Scenario: You and Fukuzawa were enjoying a nice stroll around Yokohama, the beautiful scenery only added to the peace and comfort you felt as you walked together. A soft meow caught the attention of you two, looking up, you saw a small cat stuck on a tree. You were both instantly struck with the need to help the poor kitten, which explains why you were now seated on Fukuzawas shoulders…

“A little more to the right!”, you instructed Fukuzawa as you tried your best to get closer to the kitten.

“Mm.” Fukuzawa nodded and did as you asked, slightly moving to the right.

“Okay stop! Keep steady…”, you spoke softly as your hands started moving forward towards the cat.

“Here kitty kitty, I won’t hurt you…let’s get you down.”, you said with a reassuring tone as you slowly reached for the cat.

“Be careful, don’t agitate it or make yourself seem like a threat.”, Fukuzawa said with his usual calm tone as he looked up at you; his hands firmly held your thighs, keeping you steady.

“Yeah yeah I know! I’m not going to agitate it, right little kitty-YAOWW!!”, a yelp left your lips as the cat swiped its claws, scratching you with a hiss.

In the midst of the attack, you lost your balance as your body squirmed atop of Fukuzawas shoulders, causing him to lose his footing as you both fell down.

You opened your eyes with a soft groan, “Ow…my head…Fukuzawa, are you okay?-“, you froze.

It seems when you both fell, you landed on his lap…straddling him as he laid on the ground.

His silver hair was sprawled on the grass as his soft blue eyes gazed up at you.

You were oddly mesmerized and couldn’t seem to look away, that’s until you felt something under you…faintly growing.

Within a split second, you got off his lap and stood up straight, your face was flushed as you bowed and apologized.

“I am so so so sorry! I didn’t do it on purpose I swear, I lost my balance and- it was the cats fault!!”, you rambled on apologies and excuses in a state of embarrassment.

Fukuzawa let out a soft chuckle then cleared his throat, “It is quite alright, no need to apologize.”, he said as he stood up, looking up at the cat.

“I do suppose it wants to stay up there, why not let it be?”, Fukuzawa softly smiled and walked the opposite way.

You felt a bit confused and still flushed, but relieved he didn’t seem to make a big deal of that…incident- you quickly caught up to him.

“I heard a new bakery opened up on this side of Yokohama…”, your conversation faded out as you both continued your lovely stroll.

Even though that incident was a bit lewd, you both decided to just forget about it and not let it come between your friendship…although- part of you still wonders if he liked it, considering how excited he got with just a small touch…

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

I had huge writers block in coming up with scenarios since I didn’t want to just reuse the same old ones.

I wanted each scenario to represent the character well and such.

Thanks to some help from my friend, I was able to come up with these!

Anyways! As always, I hope you all enjoyed these head-cannons, love y’all!<3

Tag list: @wintersoldier-barnes @fyodorisbbg

[theosmommy1966]

Unfair Love

Your fingers were cramping from how hard you were holding the door. Your eyes mad to be deceiving you, Regulus fucking Black cant be standing in front of you. The guy you loved from the simply age of 5 all the way until the end of school. He had been your best friend, the guy you pined over for years and years while he pushed you aside every time he got a girlfriend. Only to suck you right back in when he got bored. 

“No..” You said moving to close the door to your brother's manor. Tom, Mattheo and You were triplets. Magical beings already formed crazy connections but the three of you could literally feel each other and each other's major feelings. So the shock and pain of seeing Regulus had pulled them from the upstairs living room to the top of the stairs. Leaning against opposite walls, Tom positions so he could see down the stairs easily keeping an eye on you while being positioned in a way to be easily overlooked. 

When Regulus pushed his way in, it took everything in both of them to stay put but your voice stopped them. “Tom is home. If that's not bad enough, so is Mattheo. Do not come any further into my home Regulus.” Regulus paused just inside the door, while he had been friends with both boys in school. He also knew they were fiercely protective of their ‘baby’ sister. They would kill each other if the other hurt her, so they would easily Avada him if he pushed to hard. 

“Y/n.. Dont marry him.” He said in a nonchalant tone. Acting like he wasnt rocking her world and trying to crumble her relationship to pieces. “ Regulus.. Your being a dick.” You said unconsciously stepping towards the stairs and pulling your hands up to your chest. He stepped towards you and smiled in a cocky way that made you want to slap him “Come on y/n/n, you know you its always been me.. Dont marry him.” 

Those words sparked anger in your gut. 

Stepping towards him this time you sneer. “I was second to every single girl that even looked your way in school! You literally asked me to the yule ball and then FORGOT and went with some girl from Ravenclaw! I cant.. I wont.. I.. I..” It felt like a let down to your last name when that spark died and never turned into a fire as you started to almost hyperventilate. Every time he broke your heart played through your head as his eyes flicked above your head. 

You didnt need to turn around to know your brothers were coming down. Mattheo was past you quickly, having moved before your breathing even got uneven. Tom wasnt as familiar with panic and anxiety attacks as you and he were. He didnt stop to comfort you as he grabbed his old friend harshly and jerked him out the door. He didnt slam it on his way out knowing that would just startle you and make it worse. 

Tom had always for some reason been the one you went to for comfort. You thought it was probably just because he was the ‘oldest’. He was the one who retucked you into bed when you had bad dreams even though he was the same age. He had always just carried himself in a way that gave big brother vibes. Every where you went people thought you and Matt were twins and Tom was the older brother. 

He would always have a hard time dealing with others feelings but he always made the most effort for his siblings. When you collapsed onto the stairs and started sobbing he moved the rest of the way to you quickly. He tries to get you to calm your breathing but its like you cant hear him. He does the only thing he knows too, the same thing he use to do when you were children and he couldnt wake you from a nightmare. Pressing his forehead to yours he gently entered your mind. it was easy to find you in panic because when all the thoughts finally formed into a picture you were stood frozen while everything moved around you. 

Him saying your name broke your focus as you turned confused then relieved to see him. “Tommy” You said in a broken whisper as he reached for you, tucking your head against his shoulder and hugging you he looked around. “Lets walk through all this, yeah?” Nodding against his chest “I just feel so much right now.. Im so mad at Regulus. Ive tried my entire life to be what he wants, to be someone he sees but he never did. I was just someone to placate his ego in between relationships.” 

Tom watches as memories of you crying, of Regulus manipulating you and leaving flash around him and he squeezes tighter. “He hasnt spoken t-to me in years and then he just shows up here the night before Im supposed to get married?!” You sob and then suck in a harsh breath “Oh my god. Teddy.. Whats he going to think when he finds out I was crying over another man when im supposed to be relaxing and getting ready to marry him!” 

You pull away and pull out of your head and then away from Tom in the real world. Standing you start to pace and pull at your hair. Tom sighs and stands to try and stop you but the door flies open. Mattheo running in frantically looking for you, only to be shoved out of the way by your tall sandy blond fiancee. “Tesoro” He barley whispers as he rushes to pull you into his arms. Your knees giving out again but he keeps you up. His huge hand cups the back of your head and neck as he shushes you gently. 

Theo swears his heart is breaking as your shoulders rack with sobs. He turns to look at his other best friends, Tom is staring at the door, clearing pissed and trying to stay put. Mattheo is pulling at his own hair when he sees the questions in his friends eyes. Hes struggling because he wants to tell him so he can better comfort you, but he doesnt want to betray your trust. Thankfully he doesnt have to, you can feel his panic and pull away just enough too look up. “Regulus was here.” 

Theos head snaps back to you and he tries to reign in his feelings quickly knowing that they will all play out on his face. His first feeling was worry, he had worked so hard to show you how you should actually be treated. So many dates where he couldnt even hold your hand yet. Regulus had treated you so poorly from day one that his nontoxic love was foreign and unwelcome. 

You had grown up in vastly different environments. Birthing triplets had killed your mother. While your father wasn't horrible or abusive, he was unattentive. He would rather you have a nanny (who he sleeps with before replacing and repeating) then try and raise you alone. While Theo grew up with parents who not only loved him but each other. 

Next was anger at the audacity. Then was worry again but this time for you. Taking a deep breath and taking your cheek in one hand he wipes your tears away. “Ok, tell me why your so upset by that. We have to be on the same page to talk through this. Can we go sit down?” you shake your head and pull him up the stairs, away from your brothers to your room. You let go of his hand and keep walking straight for your bathroom. 

After a few mintues long arms wrapped around you, crossing over and gripping your upper arms. “Im here, Tesoro. Whenever your ready.” You didnt register any measure of time as you stood under the water with him holding you and pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder. “I dont deserve you theo..” you say so quietly he almost doesnt hear. Before he can ask what you mean your already speaking. “Here I am, the night before marrying you, crying over some other guy.. God im so horrible.” 

Before your hands can cover your face, Theo has spun you around and is tilting your face forcing you to look at him. He looks just a little annoyed as he speaks, “Dont say that. Do you remember what Tesoro means?” You sniffle and nod but he raises his eyebrows waiting for you to say it. “It means treasure.” He nods and smiles just a little “So.. My Tesoro couldnt be horrible.. I get it darling.. He was your first love, theres a lot of trauma there. I know your not crying because you miss him, your crying for 17 year old you, for 15 year old you and so on. And thats ok, because thats how we heal.” 

Theos heart warmed as you stare up at him in awe. “I know its difficult for you, my love. That this open communication and understanding isnt something that comes naturally too you. So youll have to give me just a little grace while I continue to learn to navigate you. I promise one day Ill be an expert.” He leans in and kisses your forehead, staying there for just a moment to give you both a second to pull yourselves together. 

When he pulled back the smile he loves was back on your face. He sighs happily and kisses your nose before looking at you. Everything was right in his world again, all he needed to do now, was wait for you to go to sleep. Because Regulus.. Well Theo completely understood where YOU were coming from. But Black? Nah. While tending to lean towards his mothers Hufflepuff nature, sometimes he needs to remind people why he was sorted into Slytherin. Why he became friends with The Dark Lords children. Why he and your brothers trusted him to care for you. And tonight, it would be Regulus` turn to learn. 

[maxlarens]

driver!reader and engineer!george spiel:

I can just imagine if driver had a tyre blowout or smth George just becomes so apologetic and feels terrible-

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice it in the data-“

*driver sighs* “for the a thousandth time, it wasn’t your fault.”

also when driver first moved to the team George had no idea how to comfort them after a bad race, unsure if they wanted space, or just someone to be with them. George decides to keep his distance until one race where driver just sighs and mutters “stay…please.” George’s heart melts and combusts simultaneously at this.

i love this it’s so sweet!!!! hope y'all enjoy!!! i feel so bad for not posting anything recently so i wrote this sooo quickly before i had to get ready for work lol😵‍💫😵‍💫

You know the disqualification wasn’t your fault.

You know that. How could it possibly be your fault anyway? Sure, if you twist it into something utterly unrecognisable you could make it into a personal failing. But you’re trying not to blame yourself for every little thing, and you’re trying hard not to micromanage.

You’re new at Mercedes anyway, you don’t want to come off too strong. Scare them off before they start to really trust you. It's a miracle in and of itself that you're here. A rookie driver, a woman, at Mercedes of all teams. Alongside Lewis Hamilton. You've got Susie and Toto Wolff to thank for that you suppose.

Anyway, you're trying hard not to think about the car just on the other side of the wall. Trying not to grab a tape measure and measure the chassis yourself. Like you'll find anything different than the FIA, like it'll change anything at all.

It's only P8 after all— four points— which is four points you'd have really liked to have to your name. Especially so early on in your rookie season. Toto knows that, had been apologetic on behalf of the team during the debriefing. You'd understood.

You'd tried to understand at least.

He'd said it wouldn't happen again.

Still, it hurts. There this ache in your chest that makes it feel like your hopes and dreams are slipping away through your fingers. This was the first race you felt you'd really begun to prove yourself and your position on this team and now everyone will be able to point to the disqualification and say this is why. She doesn't have the raw skill, it's because of the car—

"There's next week."

You snap your head up, startled at the noise. It's George, in the doorway. You'd not heard him come in, too busy navel-gazing, feeling sorry for yourself. God, you're pathetic.

"Hm", you question, trying not to let on that you're utterly miserable.

"There's next week," he repeats, inching into the room and closing the door gently behind him, "You'll do it again next week."

Your mouth twists involuntarily, skeptical. Even though you know it wasn't you. It was the car, it was some silly mistake from the warehouse. You couldn't have done anything. It just inexplicably feels like the world is crumbling in on you and you can't figure out why.

"You think?"

George nods, expression serious, a little harrowed. But sympathetic, like he understands, like he knows how it feels. You're inclined to believe that he does, he'd not given you a reason to think otherwise in the six odd months you've known him.

"Pretty sure," he says in such a way that you're sure he means 'unequivocally yes', like he believes in you wholeheartedly, like he'd never doubt you.

You're not sure what you've done to deserve that from him. This unwavering loyalty to you that he seems to have already. You just know you feel it too. Inexplicably.

You watch him, long-limbed and slightly out of place, shifting from foot to foot under your stare. He makes a move to leave after a long minute, giving you a cursory nod— you feel something open up in your chest at the thought of him leaving right. Some pit of yearning, some ache that you cant quite place.

"Wait," you say, feeling brave.

His hand falls from the door knob, he turns, tilting his head at you in question. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Would you stay? For a bit?"

He's nodding before you've got the words out, crossing the room to sit next to you on the couch. Not too close, but enough that you can feel the body heat radiating off him, smell him, a little sweaty from being out on the pit-lane, but mostly the smell of his cologne.

"Yeah," he says gently, "Of course, I can."

You nod in thanks, feeling a little exposed, a little vulnerable from your shame, from begging for a friend in him.

"Thank you, George. I just—" don't have anyone else, you don't say, feeling like that might be too far. Instead you let you sentence taper off and sigh, letting some tension leech out of you, "Yeah."

George moves closer, fractionally. Feeling brave again, you lean your head onto his shoulder, hoping he doesn't mind too much. You decide he doesn't when his arm comes around so he can rub little comforting circles into the top of your shoulder.

Slowly but surely, you feel all the anger and the sadness make way for some warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach. From then on, George becomes a regular fixture in your driver's room, especially post-race, especially when you feel like your heart has been stomped on. It's hard to feel like shit when George acts like you're capable of anything.

headcanon: george is a former driver turned engineer!

[puck-bunnies]

curious

nico hischier x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, pure word porn, fingering, unprotected sex (p in v), cum shot?, dirty talk, praising

“good, lovin, feel so, numb. ride me, till i’m, bout to, cum. i see, you are, bout to, clim-ax. so, oh girl, don’t be shy.”

word count: 1.7k

♪ - wus good/curious, partynextdoor

nico’s long fingers hook in the crotch of my panties, moving them to the side so that i’m easily accessible. they run up and down my folds, my wetness coating the pads of his fingertips. “oh god, you’re so wet for me.” he husks into my ear, his hot breath brushing past my neck making my hairs stand up.

his other hand grips my waist harshly, fingers pressing against my skin in a bruising way. soft whimpers release from my mouth before i bite down on my bottom lip, hushing myself. “only for you.” i say between my teeth.

nico hums, pressing a harsh kiss to my neck, sucking the spot he knows is most sensitive. my heart beats in my chest like a drum, body begging to be filled by nico. i feel like i'm about to crumble by his touch, his lips leaving marks down my neck down to my collarbone.

"please nico." i find myself begging, his thick fingers continuing to toy with my dripping folds. he smirks against my skin, raising himself up to look into my blown pupils. my cheeks don't hide the blood rising to my skin, a flush of embarrassment flooding my face.

nico starts to slowly slide his middle finger into my aching hole. my hands grip his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as his knuckles hit my skin. he moves his finger into a curl, hitting a spot not even i can reach. i have to fold onto his shoulder as he slides another finger in with the next pump, burying my face into the crook of his neck.

his hands stop moving, fingers staying still half inside me causing my hips to try to lower myself onto them. he moves his fingers out of me, leaving me completely empty. "you're going to have to look at me if you want it." he whispers down into my ear.

i let out a groan mixed with a moan as i straighten myself up, looking straight into nico's darkened eyes. he smirks, "good girl." he whispers, slowly sliding two fingers back into me, earning a harsh gasp to leave my lips. "wasn't so hard.. now was it?" he teases in my ear.

my hands grip nico’s shoulders harder as his fingers some how get deeper making me squeal. i never even knew these spots inside me existed, but god i love the way he’s hitting them. incoherent moans spill out of my mouth as my guts feel like their on fire.

as i feel a knot in my stomach tightening, nico removed his fingers once again, causes a whimper to leave my lips. “come on baby.” i whine to him, watching as he slips the two fingers into his mouth. sucking all of me off of his fingers, keeping his eyes on mine the whole time.

“be patient.” he husks, quickly manoeuvring us to be able to pull his boxers down his thighs just enough for his hard cock to spring out, hitting his abdomen before coming down to hit my clit. my hole clenches, waiting for the cock in front of me to bottom me out once again.

nico takes the base of his cock in his hand, running the pre-cum soaked tip along my wetness. finally pushing into me getting a stretched out moan from me.

he brings me up from my sitting position, hands firmly gripping my hips and helping me push down against his length. long groans mix through the room from both of our mouths. once i’m bottomed out on nico’s cock my walls squeeze around him, feeling every familiar vein, bump and curve of him.

i’m addicted to the way he stretches me out, when i’m all the way down him and his tip hitting unimaginable places. i can’t move for a moment, letting myself adjust to his impeccable size before i can even think about moving my hips in anyway.

once i finally feel ready to move, i start slow. grinding my hips back and forth, hitting all my sides perfectly. my limbs tighten, jaw clenching as i start to quicken my pace. nico’s hands start to control my hips, pushing and pulling me back and forth. curses push pass my lips mixing with the moans coming from deep in my chest.

i slow the pace on my hips, starting to pick them up instead of grind them. feeling nico’s length slowly slip out of me, my juices coating the base of his cock as it begs to be covered by my warmth again. i go up so much it feels like he could fall out of me anytime, before that can happen i slide back down him all the way to his base again.

nico bites his bottom lip, staring down at my pussy as if take all of him back inside of me. i roll my hips back slowly before going back up for a second time but faster. his fingers squeeze my full hips so hard that bruises will litter my skin tomorrow, but i don’t care, all i need is him.

his eyes flutter back up to mine, pupils blown out in pleasure and filled with lust. a smirk comes onto his face as he guides my hips back down harshly, our skin lightly slapping as my ass meets his thighs. the fast stretch of him coming back into me makes me squeal and throw my head back slowly.

he continues to take control, maneuvering me back up and down his almost painfully long cock quickly. "you look so pretty." nico whispers in my ear, softly nipping at my earlobe. "taking my cock so nicely." my moans double with his words, encouraging me to help him quicken my pace.

my hands run from his shoulders up the back of his neck, softly pulling at the short hairs. combing up to tug on his longer dark hair, forcing his head to look up at me. nico's hand drops down to my ass, kneading my flesh with the palm of his hand. he gives me a light smack at first, i whimper in enjoyment. "you like that?" he smirks, causing him to add another harsher one on the same cheek.

i mumble to answer his question, my mind too scrambled to give out words. “i’m going to need words baby.” he slows my hips, forcing me to stop half down on his cock. i can see that me not moving anymore is hurting nico too, all he wants is for me to keep riding him, but he keeps his act up.

i try to stand my ground, but it’s no use, finding myself begging for him to fill me up again. “it’s so good nico!” i yell out quickly, grinding my body back down his length.

he lets out a soft degrading chuckle at my begging, his ego slightly boosting as my insides beg for his shape. nico slams me back down him, causing me to scream out curses. i suck my lips into my mouth, sharply biting down to silence my loud moans.

“come on baby, scream for me.” he lands another harsh slap on my ass, red handprints starting to appear on my sensitive cheek. i let my lips unbuckle from my mouth, leaving my quick paced moans to rush out of my mouth.

every time i get slammed back on nico's cock, i roll my hips back and forth before moving back up again. i can feel my walls clench around him every time, memorizing every single curve of him inside me.

except for when my stomach tightens to an unbearable pressure where i can't even lift my hips up anymore. settling down on his lab and rolling my hips back and forth, feeling him start to twitch inside me. we both chase our orgasms, our chests rising in sync as we take in the oxygen our highs chase.

i get so hungry for my orgasm, moving my hips in unrhythmic and sloppy patterns. "oh, just like that." nico praises in my ear. my hands grip his hair harder, pulling at his roots as i can feel myself coming undone above him.

"i'm so, so close nico." i whimper. i can tell that he's close as well, his breaths and groans becoming deeper and closer together.

i can't take it anymore, my guts crave to undo as my orgasm crashes into me. "let it out baby. make a mess on my cock." he snarks out.

his words are all it takes for me to finish, letting myself unwind above nico. my back arching as my hips start to slow, nico gripping them to move them along again, letting him chase his own orgasm. it doesn't take him long, quickly pulling himself out of me, pumping himself a few more times. squeezing his tip softly as ropes of his cum start to spay over my stomach, running down my flesh to drip down to his thighs.

"you did so good baby." nico praises once again, letting me fall onto his shoulder to catch my breath. his cold hands rub up and down my hot skin making a deep breath fall from my chest.

nico lets me calm down, letting my nerves reset and breaths become even again. he then helps be off of his lap, laying me down on the mattress. "lets get you cleaned up." he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my temple before disappearing into the bathroom.

a few moments pass before he returns with a wet washcloth, resting between my thighs, guiding them apart so he could clean up our mess. "you look so pretty." his fingers brush my folds before replacing them with the cloth, wiping away the remains of my orgasm.

nico's fingers rush up to my stomach, swirling his fingers in his own cum that lays on my skin. quickly wiping it away to leave me clean. he throws the washcloth into the hamper, laying down beside me in the bed, pulling me into his warmth.

i rush to get the covers over us, protecting us from the harsh cold air that leaves goosebumps on my skin. my eyelids become heavy, sleep creeping up on me, and my body begs to be taken by it. he combs his fingers through my hair, letting my body become completely relaxed.

[aronkiepronkie]

you mumble incoherent curses and erase aggressively on your paper, blowing the eraser shavings, catching tsukishimas attention. "what're you doing?" he asks with a small amount of judgement in his tone as he looks down at the slightly crumbled paper in your notebook. "i'm trying to..ugh." you sigh, lowering your face to the notebook in front of you, light gray strokes connecting with one another. "trying to what?" the blonde boy looks down at you. "talk normally dumbass, i can't hear you." he spits out, you pay no mind to him and move your hair to the side, grumbling angrily about it being in the way. tsukishima hears your frustrated mumbles and takes the matter into his hands before you explode and become pissy for the rest of the day. he grabs the hair tie you gave him off his wrist, gently gathering all of your hair and slowly putting it into a ponytail. "you're welcome." he speaks up after a few seconds of silence. "thanks, kei." you respond quietly, entranced in your drawing, his cheeks dust with pink when his name leaves your mouth, still not used to you calling him by his first name. tsukishima looks down at your paper, analyzing the drawing you're stressing about. he slowly starts familiarizing the doodles and sketches of a person, piecing together the glasses and hair. "is that me?" he asks, his brows furrowed at the scarily accurate drawings of him. "wha- no! that would be so weird and creepy of me to draw you..." you yell out in surprise, trying to defend yourself, jumping from your previous position, snuggled against his pillows, under the blanket that he bought specifically for you. tsukishima chuckles through his nose and smirks. "you're more than weird and creepy yn." he sighs and closes his eyes. "maybe that's why i like you." he mutters, mainly to himself but loud enough for you to hear. your face bursts into a bright red and you grab one of his pillows, throwing it harshly at his face. he catches the fuzzy decorative pillow with ease, laughing at you and patting the spot on his bed next to him, inviting you to sit with him. "don't start getting all cute at me after calling me weird and creepy, you're gonna give me whiplash." you tell him while hopping next to him and he hums in faux confusion. "i'm not getting cute, just saying i kind of like you." he says confidently with a faint smile still on his thin lips while he unlocks his phone, scrolling aimlessly through the many playlists he's made, not sparing you a glance. "oh wow, should i be flattered that the all-knowing, stoic, cold and stingy tsukishima kei kind of likes me?" you joke reaching for your pencil to resume sketching. he pauses his scrolling after clicking on the playlist you two listen to the most together, reaching for his earphones that he, again, specifically got for you so you guys can listen to music together. he glances at your page and he stays quiet, taking your joke into consideration. "mmm, flattered isn't the word. don't take advantage of the situation." he states quietly, leaning into you and sticking left earphone in your ear. your hands halt and you gasp dramatically. "i love this song!" you yell joyfully. "i know you do." tsukishima says to himself, and this time, you can't hear what he says. he wraps his arm around your shoulder, his hand resting on the pillows next to you as he watches the pencil in your hand work its magic, finishing the 'doodle' of him smiling, you would call it, tsukishima would simply call it a masterpiece just because he knows no matter how hard he would try, he'd never get on your level when it comes to drawing. his broad chest rises and falls with each slow breath he takes as he admires your skill. "stop drawing me, weirdo." he says, sarcasm dripping in his tone. you look up at him with sparkling eyes and a candy sweet smile that never fails to make his steady heartbeat falter. "you love it." "i guess i do." is the last thing he says before cupping your warm cheek with his cold, big hands and pressing his lips onto yours, kissing you slowly.

[fernthewhimsical]

Hopepunk Primer pt. 2

Philosophy of Hopepunk

I cannot express this better than other people have done before me. So I'll start with an interview Kayti Burt had with several hopepunk authors in 2019.

"What is hopepunk? It depends on who you ask…

Rowland, quoting their essay “One Atom of Justice, One Molecule of Mercy, and the Empire of Unsheathed Knives,” says: “Hopepunk is a subgenre and a philosophy that ‘says kindness and softness don’t equal weakness, and that, in this world of brutal cynicism and nihilism, being kind is a political act. An act of rebellion.’”

To understand hopepunk as a concept it helps to understand what it stands in contrast to. Grimdark is a fantasy subgenre characterized by bleak settings in which humanity is fundamentally cutthroat, and where no individual or community can stop the world’s inevitable decline. Hopepunk, in contrast, believes that the very act of trying has meaning, that fighting for positive change in and of itself has worth—especially if we do it together." [4]

When Alexandra Rowland was asked on Tumblr to expand on the initial statement she made they elaborated:

"Hopepunk says that genuinely and sincerely caring about something, anything, requires bravery and strength. Hopepunk isn’t ever about submission or acceptance: It’s about standing up and fighting for what you believe in. It’s about standing up for other people. It’s about DEMANDING a better, kinder world, and truly believing that we can get there if we care about each other as hard as we possibly can, with every drop of power in our little hearts." [5]

I also love the definition of the Tumblr blog @hopepunk-humanity:

"What is Hopepunk?

Wild laughter from ragged throats

Flowers growing choked from crumbling asphalt

A warm bed after a long, hard journey

Your partner’s hand cupped in your own

Bright graffiti on cracked tunnel walls

The chains falling loose to the stone floor

A glint of silver beneath a century of tarnish

A long rain after a blistering wildfire

Just one more step, and then another

A single candle flame joining the stars against the night

A loved ones voice calling your name after hours lost in an unfamiliar place

A hand taking yours, just when you’d given up on reaching out

Smiling, laughing again, when you thought you’d forgotten how

Knowing, despite everything, that humans are inherently good

It’s not simply blind optimism, or naivety. It’s choice. It’s taking the human race by the hand and saying, “I will love you, because I am you”. It’s facing a world dripping with cynicism and fashionable hopelessness and saying, “no, I will not give in”. It’s putting kindness out into the world, knowing you might not get it back, knowing you may be scorned for it, knowing it might not change anything, but with a certainty that kindness is what the world needs the most.

It is choosing hope" [6]

Hopepunk is choosing hope in a world where they want us to have none. It's choosing humanity when they want us to forget we are human. It's choosing community when they would benefit of us staying individuals. It's choosing action and hope when they want us struck down and paralyzed.

Alexandra Rowland emphasizes to not forget the second part of the word: Punk. In another interview with Kayti Burt for Den of Geek they say:

"it’s important to remember that punk is the operative half of the word – punk in the sense of anti-authoritarianism and punching back against oppression." and "The instinct is to make it only about softness and kindness, because those are what we’re most hungry for. We all want to be treated gently. But sometimes the kindest thing you can do for someone is to stand up to a bully on their behalf, and that takes guts and rage." [7]

What is Hopepunk to me?

That spark that is both love and spite that keeps me going. It's seeing the good in humanity, while also acknowledging the harm. It's refusing to lay down and die, refusing the accept the status quo, refusing to believe that this is it.

It's believing in a better world. In kindness. In the inherent sense of community in humanity. It's believing in the power of stories.

It's seeing kindness and hope as an act of Sacred Rebellion. And spreading that kindness and hope is a Vow that I have taken.

It's taken the anger I have against corporations, injustice, bigotry, capitalism, oppression, and letting it fuel the fire within me in a constructive way. It's working to dismantle systems that are oppressive to work towards a more inclusive world. It's pruning the garden of dead weight so new things can grow.

Late stage capitalism wants us all to be docile, to work, not to live. So I will shout my small joys from the rooftops. I will create for the sake of creating. I will practice radical acceptance so that I stand strong above the masses of ads that wants me to hate myself. I will choose to see the good so that I can believe change is possible.

Hopepunk a fire that says "Rage. Rage against those who deserve it. Stand up for those who do not and show them a better world is possible."

[4] Den of Geek - Are you afraid of the darkness: a hopepunk explainer

[5] Alexandra Rowland tumblr post

[6] Hopepunk-humanity - what is hopepunk

[7] Den of Geek - a hopepunk guide: interview with Alexandra Rowland

Part 1: Intro and history

Part 2: Philosophy of Hopepunk

Part 3: How to practice hopepunk and further reading

Part 4: Extra! Hopepunk and magic

[drurrito]

Crash

Summary: Pulling this from the vault, I don't have the will to come up with a better title.

Pairings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, cursing...

--------

This was supposed to be an easy job.

You curse loudly while crouching behind a desk, loading your clip and shoving it back into your gun.

“Cover me,” the woman across from you demands and you don’t have much of a choice--watching a flash of red sail through the room and incapacitating one of the guys shooting at you. You manage to gun the other one down and take the lull in violence as an opportunity to get the hell out of there.

“Don’t,” she warns. 

“I’m here on other business, this is your mess,” you hiss.

“You’re staying where I can see you,” ignoring her, you clutch the briefcase and dash towards the stairs. You can hear her footsteps coming towards you for a few seconds before a loud blast makes your ears ring. You look back, she’s out cold and there’s a rather large green man howling over her motionless body. 

“Shit,” your legs won’t take you any further and you mutter another curse as you charge towards the man. He’s huge, you might just die, you think to yourself while raising your arms, here goes nothing.

“Hey!” you shout, even his eyes are a deep green, reminding you of what the sky looks like before a tornado spawns to pummel a landscape.

He growls and takes a step towards you but is quickly barraged by bullets from the other end of the corridor. Now’s your chance, you’re quick to scoop up the woman’s body and make your way down the stairs to the next floor.

You can feel the cries of the building’s foundation when you realize that taking the stairs will lead you to someplace six feet under. You find the nearest elevator and pry the door open with a gadget, using another to zip you and what you wished was anything but an unconscious woman down and out of the building before half of it crumbles down to nothing.

-----

She thanks you with a fist to your face as soon as she wakes up.

“Hey! Chill out!” you spit, you focus so much on detaining her limbs that you don’t account for her head.

You stumble back a few steps and she tackles you to the ground, not feeling half as light as she did when she was limp in your arms a few hours ago.

“If you wanted to be on top, you could have just asked,” you grunt, still struggling underneath her when she shoves a candle stick against your throat. Her legs are hooked under your hips, not giving you much room to maneuver-usually this position is followed by something a little more pleasant than this, you think.

“Who are you?”

“Y/n," you strain.

“Who do you work for?”

“Myself,” you yelp out in pain as she twists the candlestick a little farther into your neck.

“Who do you work for?”

“I just told you.”

“Not good enough.”

“It’s going to have to be--I have a quasi-handler and that’s it. I’m a one woman show,” you grunt, the candlestick loosens a bit against your neck.

“That building-”

“I was applying for a job, what did it look like I was doing?”

“Stealing.”

“You’re good,” you wince instead of wink, you’re throwing out that candlestick the first chance you get.

“How did we get here?”

“Ever heard about the theory of evolution?”

“Shut up, tell me what happened.”

“It’s hard to talk with you trying to put a hole in my neck,” she finally lets you up and you gasp, letting the air fill your lungs. You make your way over to your chair, reclining with a huff. She stays on the floor, bracing herself against a bruised and bloodied arm.

“Some big green guy busted in, knocked you out cold.”

“Bruce,” she whispers quietly enough that you don’t hear her.

“Looked like he was gonna crush you so as soon as someone started shooting at him, I grabbed you and left.”

“Where am I?”

“At least 25 miles away from the building,” you glance at her, “it’s gone, building folded in on itself as soon as we touched the pavement outside.”

“I need your phone,” she tries to get up but is quickly seated by the shooting pain in her torso. You’re out of your chair and by her side, she flinches away from you, the fiery look in her eyes makes you restrain the urge to try and find the source of pain, you’d like to keep your hands for just a little longer.

“You’re hurt,” you slowly reach for her this time. You mentally give yourself a gold star for helping with a steady grasp on her pinky while she dragged the rest of herself onto the couch.

“Phone.”

“Doctor first.”

“No,” she holds up the candle stick as a threat and you scoff before you realize that she’s too stubborn to be couch-locked by whatever pain she’s in. 

“Fine, be my guest,” you hand her your phone, “try not to die on this carpet, I just had it cleaned,” she glares at you while the phone rings, you barely hear a man’s voice on the other end.

“Clint? I’m okay, can you get my location?” you almost don’t recognize this new shade of voice on her. It’s soft, laced with a little worry and care--you decide that kind of tone would have made the candlestick sting a lot less.

“That’s the only easy part, we’re still trying to recover the asset and Bruce is still on the loose-can’t get you until tonight.”

“I’m not alone,” she tips her head in your direction.

“Friendly?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Do what you gotta do and hole up, we’ll get there when we can.”

“I’ll be here.”

“You better,” Clint hangs up and she breaks the phone with such ease that it takes you a second to realize you’re without a phone now.

“Right, I didn’t need that anyway,” you mumble, she tries to get up again and you calmly press a palm against her shoulder.

“Unexpected guests are still my guests,” you insist and she shoots you a look. If you’re going to be a hostage in your own home, you might as well be a good host.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some things, I need to call the doctor anyway.”

“Don’t call anybody.”

“Relax, he has to come get this briefcase, he’ll be discreet,” you head upstairs and she stubbornly lifts herself off the couch and takes a look around the room. Her gun and batons are on the counter but are quickly reunited with their respective holsters on her body. She notices a file with papers spilling out of it and opens it up to skim over the contents.

“Like a modern-day robin hood,” she mutters, almost feeling guilty for giving you such a hard time.

“I never got your name,” you call out from the top of the stairs. You let out an unamused sigh when you see that she is up and about. You figure if you had half of the resolve she does then maybe the trash would get taken out a lot more often.

“You don’t need it.”

“But you asked me for mine?”

“I didn’t need it either, you gave it to me anyway.”

“You had a candlestick to my neck,” you retort, she shrugs and you throw everything in your arms onto the counter.

“Clothes, towels, trauma balm,” you make your way to the fridge and push a truce-flavored bottle of water towards the woman before turning your attention to the fridge.

“I’m making tacos,” you don’t catch the high arch in her brow, too focused on filling the room with something much more delicious than the tension between you.

--------

“A few broken ribs, bruising, and some stitches for your head but you’ll live--I gave you the good drugs too,” the doctor stands up to leave when you hand him the briefcase.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, seriously--I don’t need people knowing I make house calls.”

“I hope this has everything you need,” you shake his hand.

“You always get it done,” he leaves without another word and you approach the woman splayed out on your couch. Heavy drugs giving a mild effort in wearing down the stoic look on her features.

“When are you getting rescued?” 

“Few hours,” she grumbles.

“Here,” you put a plate on the coffee table, “shower’s down the hall, let me know if you need help.”

You grab your own plate and put on some music, figuring that your guest wouldn’t be much of a talker. 

“You help people,” her voice a little raspy from exhaustion and the drugs.

“I try to, yes,” you sit back down, “and you?”

“Same boat,” she cracks, sitting up. You don’t see her briefly inspect the food before taking a bite out of a taco.

“Natasha,” she says, her mouth full, “Natasha Romanoff,” the corner of your mouth ticks up into half a smile, a small celebration for a rather monumental victory.

--------

Natasha towels off her hair and hobbles back to the main room.

“I told you I could help,” you catch her in time to see her wave you off.

“Maybe next time,” she gives you a smirk and before you can even process what she said there’s a knock at the door. You open it to find a man with a messy mohawk, muscles bulging out of his vest.

“Tash?”

“In here, Clint,” he briefly meets your eyes while you step aside to let him in.

“She’s only a little broken, but she’ll make it,” you joke and your newest house guest is unimpressed.

“Christ, Bruce,” Clint grunts.

“Bruce, the big green guy?”

“Yes.”

“You know him?”

“Yes.”

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief, not expecting this to be the product of some friendly fire.

“Let’s go home,” Clint swiftly throws Natasha’s arm over his shoulder and they make their way towards the door, you walk with them.

“Sorry about your phone, and your face,” Natasha’s lips pulse with guilt.

“Better than some broken ribs and stitches,” you tease, thankful to be just out of her reach when you see her arm twitch at her side.

“Don’t crash any more missions,” she says somewhat sternly.

“I could say the same to you,” you smile, she scoffs as Clint carries her to the car. You don’t move until they disappear down the road.

[mothiepixie]

How would any of them (including boysen) react to motti crying?

The sunshine character crying?! Great heavens!

Sans:

It's not often Motti cries so he would be pretty alarmed at first. Immediately ask if she's alright and what happened. Would sit to listen to her if Motti opened up, but more or less he would be making jokes in anyway he can to make her laugh; even if they were really bad that causes her to look at him incredulously. Anything to get Motti to smile because that's what looks best on her. 

Big Red:

He doesn't do emotions well at all. No one will ever catch him crying if he can help it and seeing Motti cry would put him in an awkward position and unsure how to handle it. Of course, he's really concerned but he can't ask in the right way that doesn't come off very apprehensive and irritable. Which would cause Motti to shut down and she would stop crying solely because she felt like a burden and embarrassed. Red would hate that and exclaim she can cry around him if she needs to. Awkward back patting ensues. 

Boysen:

His first instinct is to ask who did it and instantly calculating all the ways he could hurt that person, but he’ll approach steadily and calmly inquire what happened. If Motti admits it’s nothing serious and doesn’t want to talk about it, he will respect her wishes but that does not stop him from attempting to distract her. If Motti DOES explain what happened, he’s a very good listener, but that’s all it is. He doesn’t verbally comfort, but will grab the back of her head to pull her to his chest. 

Swap Sans:

He wouldn’t notice at first, not because he is inept, but he’s so used to immediately chatting away with her upon meeting. Swap’s rambles would dwindle when he hears the sniffling and instantly switches from rambunctious to attentive mode. He would ask Motti if she's in the headspace to verbalize her distress and that if she’s not, his chest is open for her to cry on. He doesn’t care if her tears or snot get on his shirt, he can always wash it later! Besides, it's a badge of honor for him. He comforted her to the best of his ability. Swap would also make her comfort meals and stay by Motti’s side until she’s her usual cheerful self. 

Farmer:

This skeleton can tell a mile away something is off and would not hesitate to investigate. He would find Motti in the kitchen and sniffling, but his sudden presence would startle her. She’ll try to wave off that it’s the onions and Farmer wouldn’t have the heart to point out there’s not a single onion on the cutting board. Leaning on the counter, Farmer shoots her a knowing look and it makes her crumble. Farmer will pull Motti into a hug and validate that it's okay for her to be exhausted and think the farming life is hard. He’ll more than likely shortcut them both to Creampuff and do some cuddle therapy. 

Reaper:

It’s not easy to make his Goddess cry, but he would be distraught and unsure how to comfort her. He’s used to people crying because Reaper was always the cause of it. So how can he comfort the Goddess of Mirth??? He fears what his touch can do to her and the only thing he can think of is dumping flowers petals on her head. It works though and he’s at ease once more when she laughs.

Dream:

Oh, he knows right away before Motti will even come to terms she’s about to cry. Dream will not hesitate to pull Motti in for a hug and blow raspberries on her neck until she’s laughing. He starts singing her with praise and words of affirmation to the point she’s a flustered mess. His natural energy will shift her onset emotions and he would distract Motti long enough that her whole day is turned around for the better. 

Passive Nightmare:

Just like Dream, Passive knows the bubbling of misery in Motti before she even acknowledges it. Comforting her always leaves him feeling apprehensive because he is afraid that the way Motti feels is a result of being around him. He fears he’s slowly poisoning her sunny disposition and causing his living embodiment of a sunflower to wilt. It’s hard for him to confront her on his own, but he would not hesitate for a single second if Motti willingly ran into his arms for it. Whatever is the cause of her pain, Passive will remind her how wonderful she is and how he couldn’t bear to be without her. 

Killer:

Wouldn’t hesitate to stab a bitch for Motti. Who made her cry? Who the fuck would make his lovely lady even shed tears that weren’t from pleasure??? Not inherently the best at comforting but he would romance the hell out of Motti until his obnoxiousness replaced her melancholy with annoyance. He likes when Motti fusses and pushes him away because he’s being cringy with his romantic soliloquy. 

Dust:

His very stoic presence causes Motti to be too nervous to cry. But he would pat her head and ruffle her hair. 

Horror:

He’s not the kindest when it comes to comforting, but he’ll regret any immediate change that causes Motti to turn her whole body from him. With ease, he’ll pick her up and throw her on his chest. He grumbles that he doesn’t know what she’s blubbering about or why she would even worry about trivial things. Horror uses his asshole remarks to trick Motti into forgetting what made her cry in the first place. He even continues to tease her about how stuffy she sounds. The weight of his arms alone feel like a weighted blanket and he would keep Motti pressed to his chest until her “fit” is over. 

[watermelonlovershigh]

You're a Little Too Loud in Bed (SMUT)

AN: this was loosely inspired by this tiktok. i instantly thought of writing a fan fiction when i watched it. and before anyone comes at me with negative comments, i would NEVER write a story where a child sees their parents having sex. that's very traumatizing for so many. this is as far as i'd go in writing something like this. let me know if you enjoyed!!

This story contains: sex, use of vibrators, crying child, comfort, reassurance, fluffy ending

{ dadrry - dilf!harry - husbandrry - soft!harry - 3 kids (2 unnamed, 1 named Masie [May-zee] ) - harry age 35 }

word count- 1,709

Due to the pleasurable sex you had with Harry, you accidently moan too loud and your daughter down the hall wakes up and gets scared that something is wrong with her mummy.

Harry was currently fucking you from behind. You're on all fours in the center of your king size bed, Harry standing on his knees as he thrusted into you. He had one hand on your hip and the other was reaching down, holding your vibrating wand to your clit to give you added pleasure as well as pleasure for him because the vibrations were hitting his balls with each thrust.

You were trying really hard to stay quiet because your kids were asleep in their rooms down the hall. But with Harry's long, thick cock pounding into your pussy and the steady vibrations attacking your clit, you were struggling with that. Even Harry was struggling to keep his moans at bay.

See, the two of you typically have two different types of sex in your sex lives. The sex that's more slow and anguished where you're all lovey dovey with each other. It can be done in the bathtub or under the covers. Basically love making. Which you'd say you do most often just because you both genuinely love feeling close to one another on levels other than physically, like emotionally.

Then there's fucking sex. Sex that isn't really love making but isn't too kinky either. You normally do positions other than missionary and add a couple toys into the mix. What you're doing now is what you'd consider more so fucking. When you make love you can normally keep quiet and allow your moans to travel into one another's mouths from sloppily making out. But with sex in doggy position with a vibrator in use, it's so much hader.

When you feel yourself getting close, you shove your head into your pillow to try and conceal the moans that you know you won't be able to hold in any longer when you climax. Harry doesn't even need to ask if you're close because he can feel you becoming wetter and your walls are starting to seize up around his shaft.

Harry leans over your back and heaves in a seductive voice, "Come on, let go for me. Let go, baby." He was struggling to hold off on his own orgasm because you just felt so good. And he wasn't twenty-five any more. He's thirty-five. Fucking you in doggy really wears him out.

"I'm, Oh God," you start to speak but are cut off when Harry begins moving the wand from side to side over your clitoris to speed up the process, "I'm coming. Holy shit!" Your back arches upwards and your hands grip the bed sheets beneath you so hard you feel as if you might just rip a hole in the fabric. Your vaginal walls squeeze Harry so tightly that he begins to come as well.

Once you start to come down from your orgasms, Harry turns the vibrating wand off and tosses it across the bed. His hips stop their thrusting and slowly he becomes soft within you. You're both breathing heavy and have a thin layer of sweat coating your naked skin. Your knees give out which leads to you laying flush to the mattress. And well, with Harry still inside of your cunt, he comes crumbling down with you.

He carefully falls on your back so he doesn't hurt you and for a minute you lay together in silence, soaking up each others comfort and love. That is until you hear a wailing cry coming from down the hallway. "Fuck," Harry grumbles, not wanting to separate from your body but knowing he has to check on his child, "I'll go see what's the matter, alright. You stay put." He really hoped whoever was crying hadn't been sick because he really doesn't want to deal with puke right now. But he would if he had to.

With a kiss to the back of your sweaty neck, Harry slips out of you and begins to shuffle off the bed and towards his dresser to find himself some briefs and shorts to put on. You turn around and get under the duvet to cover yourself up at least a little bit. After Harry is dressed enough, he flings your bedroom door open and quickly travels down the hall to where the cries are coming from.

He comes to realize they are coming from your daughter Masie's room, who's five years old. Harry opens her door and coos gently while walking towards her little bed, "Hey loves, what's the matter? Why'r you crying, baby?"

Masie looks at her father and makes grbby hands, wanting him to pick her up. She's a bit too heavy to lift like this but Harry will do anything for his children. Once she's in her daddy's arms, she cries with her little arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder, "I..... I heard mummy screaming. Is she, is she okay?"

Harry has never felt more embarrassed yet proud in his entire life as he does right now. Embarrassed that his daughter heard you screaming during sex. Well it was more so loud moaning that you tried to conceal best as possible, but to a five year old, screaming is the best word she can describe it as. And proud he can still make you scream during sex.

Rubbing a palm up and down her small back, Harry coos, "Shhh, she's perfectly fine, lovie. Mummy wasn't screaming in a bad way. It was happy screams."

As Masie's cries slowly stop, she demands softly, "Wanna see mummy, please."

"Okay, okay, but she'll come in here, alright. Here, sit on your bed and I'll bring her in here so she can tell you she's fine." Harry tells his daughter while carefully setting her back down in her bed. He would have brought her to you but he knows you're not decent at the moment, still chilling naked under the covers.

Masie mutters out a quiet, "M'kay." and waits for her mummy to come see her. Harry quickly goes back into your shared bedroom with embarrassment on his face. You look at your husband as he enters and question worriedly, "Is my baby, okay? What was wrong?"

He goes over to your dresser to pick you out some clothes and answers, "Maise heard you screaming. She thought something was wrong with you and was just worried. Now she wants you to come see her. Here, let me help you get dressed." Harry helps you slip over your t-shirt, not bothering with a bra around the house, and pair of panties and shorts.

Right before you make your way to your daughters room, Harry whispers, "Guess m'gonna have to hold your mouth shut next time."

You turn around with a cheeky glare and retort, "Hey, it's not my fault you fucked me so well. Can barely walk and my clit is still throbbing uncomfortably."

Hand in hand you enter Masie's bedroom and she's just where Harry had left her. When she sees you her bottom lip quivers and she begins to cry again, probably from relief her mummy was okay. No matter how good of a fuck you just had, your daughter's well being is your number one priority and it kills you that she was this worried about you. Thank god you have a rule in this house to always knock on your door so she didn't walk in on the act. That would have traumatized everyone.

"Hey, my darling, mummy's alright. See, I'm okay." you say in a comforting voice as you lean down to wrap her in a hug.

With her face buried in your neck, she asks, "You screamed happy screams?" You snatch you head around to give Harry who's standing in the doorway a death stare. How dare he, but also how else are you supposed to explain to a five year old that what she heard was moans from her parents being intimate. I mean it's totally normal and healthy for couples to have sex but she's way too young to know that right now.

"Yes Masie, mummy was screaming because she was really happy. You know your daddy makes mummy real happy sometimes. Just like when something is really funny and you laugh loudly, well that's kinda like what mummy done, okay."

She nods and questions, "Can I sleep with you tonight, please?" She doesn't really get to sleep in bed with you and Harry unless she's sick, but on special occasions you'll let her, or any of your kids for that matter.

Hugging her to you tightly and lifting her off the bed, you answer, "Yeah, I guess for tonight it won't hurt. Harry, go um, fresh," you try and tell him without saying it out loud, pointing at Masie's covers, "change them." you mouth the last part. Realization comes across Harry's face and he gives you a thumbs up before scurrying off to change your bed sheets.

Though you did lay a towel down during the sex, just something about your daughter sleeping in the same sheets and duvet you fucked on feels wrong. To give him a minute to change the bedding on your bed, you carry Masie into the hall bathroom and help her use the toilet before she sleeps again. Of course she's potty trained but still needs help wiping sometimes.

Five minutes later you walk back into your bedroom to see Harry just now finishing changing the bedding. He turns around and speaks, "There's my girls. Come on, get under the covers and lets give each other cuddles." Your family is very physically affectionate people. You all love hugs and cuddling one another.

You set your daughter Masie in the center of the bed and both you and Harry slip in the duvet beside her. Once Harry turns the lamp off, you both sink down under the fresh covers more and slide over until she's right in between the two of you. You each lean down and place a kiss to her tiny cheeks before settling in the warmth of each other for sleep.

Right as you and Harry start to drift off from exhaustion, you hear a small, "Love you." coming from your daughters mouth. Harry and you both reply back with, "We love you, too." and then sleep finally takes over.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[baubarbz]

BABY MORGAN ! Derek Morgan x Fem! Reader

warnings : pregnancy , suggestions of depression , reader self isolates , kissing , let me know if i missed anything !

You and Derek had always dreamed of starting a family. From the moment you both decided to try for a baby, you were filled with hope and excitement. But as months turned into years, and every negative test seemed to crush your spirit a little more, the weight of disappointment began to take its toll.

It wasn’t just the frustration of seeing another blank test; it was the constant cycle of hope and heartbreak. Each time you tried to stay optimistic, telling yourself that next month would be different, but when it wasn’t, the pain cut a little deeper.

Derek had been your rock through it all. Every time you crumbled, he was there to pick up the pieces, reminding you of how much he loved you, how much you meant to him, no matter what. But even his reassurances couldn’t chase away the shadows that had started to cloud your mind.

You felt like a failure, and that thought began to seep into every part of your life. It was hard to focus at work, hard to laugh at Garcia’s jokes, hard to enjoy anything when all you could think about was how your body seemed to be betraying you.

Derek noticed, of course. He always noticed when something was wrong, especially with you. “Baby, we’re going to get through this,” he’d say, holding you close as you cried into his chest. But the more time passed, the more you started to believe that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

One day, after another unsuccessful month, you found yourself in bed long after Derek had left for work. You couldn’t muster the energy to get up, to face the world, or even to fake a smile for your colleagues. You called in sick, telling yourself you just needed a day to pull yourself together.

The day turned into two, and then three, until Derek sat on the edge of the bed one evening, concern etched into his features. “Y/N, I know this is hard, but you can’t shut yourself off like this,” he said gently, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “We need you. I need you.”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “I just don’t know how to keep going, Derek,” you whispered. “Every time I think I’m okay, it just… it hits me all over again.”

Derek leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “We’re in this together, no matter what. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to lean on me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to draw strength from his words. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant,” you said, voice cracking with emotion.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “You don’t have to apologize for how you’re feeling.”

He held you until you fell asleep, and when you woke up the next morning, you felt a little lighter, like maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

Weeks passed, and slowly, you began to feel more like yourself. You and Derek continued to support each other, trying to stay positive, but you both knew the toll it was taking.

Then one morning, something felt different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was a faint glimmer of hope that you hadn’t felt in a long time. You decided to take a test, just to be sure, though you braced yourself for another disappointment.

But when you looked down at the test, your breath caught in your throat. Two lines. Two faint, but undeniable lines.

You stared at the test, heart pounding in your chest, unable to believe it. “Derek!” you called out, your voice trembling.

He rushed into the bathroom, worry etched on his face until he saw what you were holding. His eyes widened, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other in shock.

“We’re… we’re pregnant,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.

Derek let out a choked laugh, pulling you into his arms. “We’re pregnant,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. He kissed you, deep and passionate, as if he could hardly believe this moment was real.

For the first time in months, the heavy weight that had been pressing down on your chest lifted, replaced by a joy so overwhelming it was almost dizzying. “We’re going to have a baby,” you whispered against his lips, tears of happiness streaming down your cheeks.

──────────────────────

After the initial shock wore off, the two of you began to brainstorm how to tell the team. It had been such a long journey, and they had been there for you every step of the way. You wanted to make the announcement special, something that would capture the joy you were feeling.

You and Derek finally came up with a plan. It was simple but perfect.

The next day at work, you both tried to act normal, though the excitement bubbling under the surface made it hard to focus. Derek could barely keep the grin off his face every time he looked at you, and you had to keep biting your lip to stop yourself from bursting out with the news.

At lunchtime, you gathered the team in the break room, pretending it was just for a casual meal together. Garcia was the first to notice something was up. “Okay, what’s going on? You two are way too giddy,” she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

You exchanged a glance with Derek, who nodded slightly. “We just wanted to share some news with you all,” you began, unable to keep the smile off your face.

“We’ve been going through a lot lately,” Derek added, his voice warm as he took your hand. “And you’ve all been so supportive. We couldn’t have gotten through it without you.”

“So, we wanted to share this with you,” you said, your heart racing as you reached into your bag and pulled out a small gift box. You handed it to Garcia, who looked at it curiously before opening it.

Inside was a tiny onesie with the words “BAU’s Newest Agent” printed on the front. Garcia’s eyes widened, and she let out a squeal of delight. “Oh my God, are you serious?!” she exclaimed, looking between you and Derek.

“We’re pregnant,” you confirmed, tears of happiness filling your eyes as the rest of the team erupted in cheers and congratulations.

JJ pulled you into a tight hug, her voice full of emotion as she said, “I’m so happy for you both.”

Rossi clapped Derek on the back, grinning from ear to ear. “Looks like the BAU family is growing,” he said with a chuckle.

Hotch gave you both a rare smile, his eyes soft with approval. “Congratulations, you two,” he said simply, but the sincerity in his voice spoke volumes.

Even Reid, who was often awkward in emotional situations, beamed at you both. “That’s amazing news,” he said, his voice earnest. “You’re going to be great parents.”

As the team celebrated, you and Derek shared a look that said everything you were feeling. The journey had been long and hard, but standing here now, surrounded by the people you cared about most, you knew that every moment of struggle had been worth it.

The future was bright, and as you rested your hand on your belly, you felt a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time. This was the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with love, hope, and the family you had always dreamed of. And you knew, with Derek by your side, you could face whatever came next.

[court-jobi]

When Asking Feels Right

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/art))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (fem!reader is an active pro-hero)

Words: 3.6K

Rating: T+

Warnings: canon-typical injuries, love confessions, mentions of intimacy, talk of marriage, BIG FEELINGS, light injury aftercare, language, because Katsuki Bakugou knows no other way

Summary:

You know Izuku loves you, and proudly tells anyone within earshot just how much he adores his darling pro-hero. But it's not until a close call that 'Kacchan' convinces you just how much the nerd means it. Making you pull yourself together for the sake of his best friend solidifies the fact that you are the love of Izuku Midoriya's life, and he's damn well sure gonna keep you alive to do something with that information. Bakugou might be barking at you gruff as always as he's trying to keep you conscious, but when he says it like he means it, you pay attention.

A/N: Ok yall's love for Let's Heal Each Other has really surprised me, thank you so much! Here's more of our favorite boy, feat Bakugou in full guard dog mode

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“OI, WATCH YOUR TEN!”

Forced to the ground hard, you’re dazed– but not totally crushed. 

There’s a host of noise around you that grates on your senses: groans of steel supports, concrete and drywall crumbling in batches around you; it's now just a slow burn of collapsing chaos. But considering this portion of the building just fell apart not three feet from where you were once standing, you consider this a blessing. You’d deal with a sore hip than be dead. 

One thing you didn’t know was who did the saving of your ass, until you try to turn around and another support starts falling off in chunks–

“STAY DOWN, ALREADY–” a firm, hot hand cushions the back of your head from smacking the ground needlessly, but he’s not exactly gentle about it.

Dynamight?.. Bakugou– or ‘Kacchan’ as you hear him called at home– he’s– the one pulling a full body shield on you?

You cough from the debris and your ‘guardian angel’ makes sure to not press down on your back too much so you don’t feel smothered. With a gruff hand, he bats the air around your faces to will the dust away so you both can catch a breath. He hacks right along with you, he’s still human after all– but at least he does so from over your shoulder, a courtesy.

Soon enough, the shifting of earth and rock and damage settles, and Bakugou detaches himself from the kneel over you and lifts you up from under your arms to get you to a sitting position at the only remaining wall he deemed supportive enough.

You are equal parts amazed and confused watching the agency hothead acting like the most dashing hero you’ve ever seen, and you're lowkey shook that this attention is being put on you  when he presses you back and crouches back to your level with a guarded eye. 

"You ok?"

"Nngyeah?"

"You hurtin’?"

"Ouch. Nah, just my head a little-- OOF–”

Bakugou’s looking you over with a hard hand on your jaw, peeling aside your hair not too gracefully with tough, padded gloves, fussing over you with a concerned scowl.

 “-BAKugOU!"

The pieces click together a moment too late: you'd blurted at him right as you realize why he’s looking at you like this, so intently– you're bleeding from the head.

"A fucking head wound isn't a LITTLE PROBLEM, DUMBASS- /Oi, I need a med evac at the old Sorgan hospital! Look for the smoke on the southside, that’s where we fuckin’ are–/ FUCK, he's gonna KILL ME for this!!"

You bawk at the way he looks– nervous.

Your teammate's concerned as most coworkers at your agency would be, but for the chilliest of your pals, he’s looking uncharacteristically wild about it… like he seems inclined to punch you for it if you were only in better shape. Instead, Bakugou just picks you up and sets you on some slanted rubble to get you sitting higher. While your head bobs at a lag, you watch as he’s rummaging in his waistline's pockets for that dry cloth he's supposed to keep better accessible for first aid.

"YOU DAMN IDIOT,” Bakugou gripes not too angrily, “You’re NO BETTER than he is, jumpin’ into shit--HOLD THIS–"

You're starting to worry why he's so mad. It’s not like your quirk can directly correlate to the building falling via explosives; that’s his department. You followed your path to an opening of the building altogether as directed. In the mess of it all, you had to get creative with your exit strategy which did put you at a disadvantage, but it all had worked out even after facing off with the last batch of villains before the entire wing came tumbling down.

You honestly thought he was just being heroic and appreciated him literally keeping you from being crushed- only now as you want to thank him, you're sure it would fall on deaf ears. He must be angry that you were there in the first place for him to have to tend to now.

 "I-- that could have been really bad, I guess-"

"You 'GUESS'?" Bakugou's tone demands that you look him in the eye while he talks to you, right as he's staring you down incredulously, "Yeah, I saved your damn ass from getting CRUSHED, - and it's on MY HEAD if something happens to you while you're on my watch!!"

You feel sarcastic, "Well, thanks a lot, m’sorry for the inconvenience. Wassn’t my fault for the building though…”

He swishes a bit of remaining water on the cloth and jerks your head to the other way, ensuring the other scratches aren’t actively sporting fresh blood. “Tch, well running towards the sound was a pretty DUMBASS move!! Don’t know where you got that from!!”

“I can’think a few heroes who migh’...”

“Yeah, DEAD heroes!!”

Sheesh, nothing will please him when he gets like this. You tried for a last stretch of sympathy behind a pounding headache, “Well, m’sure Deku will appreciate you keepin’ me alive, so m’tryna say thanks."

"Yeah he damn well better, if he doesn’t wreck m- HEH??! SIT. THE HELL. DOWN!!"

At your try to stand up and join him in getting out of the alcove, you squatted back,

"What?!"

Bakugou pushes up his facemask more like a headband so you have no choice but to see him clearly. He smooshes your face in his palms- risky, given he's fully sweaty and the smell would be enough to turn you away-- but the way his hands are shaking forces you to stay still and pay attention.

"YOU are the love of his life, dumbass,” Bakugou threatens seriously. “You're the sparkle in his eye and you are damn good for him, so I'm sure as hell gonna make sure nothing happens to you if I can help it-- and you runnin' around with a concussion ain't making my job easier. So SIT. down."

You don’t blink or breathe.

"-I’m sat."

He fixes you a challenging look, then lets go of you to get a better view of the street to check on the ambulance.

He's protective. Because he's loyal to Izuku, he's loyal to you.

But you’re still stunned on what he said- like it was God’s honest truth and an immovable fact.

Pressing down on the tight space at the base of your sternum, you feel for something past your suit’s seam. "Did he say that?"

"Say what?" Bakugou shouts back tirelessly from the hole he’d opened for ventilation; you imagine he may not be hearing so well after this fight. Despite how cheesy it sounds coming out of you, you clarify with a hand to the gauze up against your head,

"-me being that? For him?"

Bakugou scoffs with a smirk, "Only reminds me every damn day I see him."

You can see it, after all. It happens with enough frequency that you know the two talk even before starting patrol with you. The routine of Midoriya meeting up with Bakugou like how you imagine they did in their school days: your adoring boyfriend sharing news of his curriculum workload in earnest, and retorting to his best friend’s loudmouth brand of bragging about his villain count for the week, followed by turning the tables back to Izuku and asking for the nerd’s professional opinion about his performance- and what he thinks he should be strengthening. 

It makes perfect sense that you should come up in conversations, but to know now that Izuku speaks of you in this way? Past the usual lovey-dovey pleasantries Bakugou usually gags at? It should have made you happy, but given the pulse in your throat and the general ache radiating from your -everywhere-, you sniffle– Your concern weighs you to your seat now that you probably have Izuku worried sick. If he’s glued to the news for televised coverage on missions that he knows you’re working on, he would have seen this whole ordeal in real time. 

And in the entire time you’ve dated Izuku, the whole relationship where you’ve stayed in sync with each other despite working in entirely different fields (namely you remaining in the clearly more dangerous one), Izuku never once discouraged you. 

-Never asked you to scale back or retire for the sake of his fears over you. 

-Never asked you to do anything other than ‘be as safe as you can, and do your best to come back to me’. 

He believes you were a hero- just as you believed he was, too. But God, if it didn’t kill you inside to think of breaking his heart over and over as he sat on his break room couch watching close calls. 

You know had he been here on duty instead of Dynamight, your sweet Deku would have been the one here trying to lift you up and perhaps put your worries at ease getting the chance to help you and see you through to safety. But Katsuki Bakugou is hardly that touchy-feely, so having to come up with a pep talk to yourself is hard.

"Oi-"

You toughen up to look back at him, but get a softer response than before.

"You're gonna be ok. I got your back, didn't I?"

You nod.

"I will, y'know. Have your back. Just don't make it difficult."

You nod again, about to cry.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, shaking it off and catching sight of the blue and red lights before he fully hears them. "You, with the waterworks too? Match made in heaven, I swear to GOD."

That night, you are hardly in any shape to drive yourself home and a bit too unsteady to even wrangle with public transit, so naturally you ask Izuku to come get you. With a faithful grin, he looks incredibly happy to see you in the agency lobby- if distracted momentarily by your expertly wrapped head and script bag in hand.

When you meet downstairs, you reign in your immediate reaction to seeing him like you normally would. It's busy tonight- teeming with interns, a changing out of a few vending machines, and a friendly spat between two other sidekicks is happening not far from the evelator you just stepped from. 

The building’s deceptively cheery security officer sees you coming, and shares to your boyfriend that he is going to put on a podcast, taking a moment to fiddle with putting his earbuds in and ‘conveniently’ switch over to his shades against the setting sun, which allowed you the sneaky propriety to fully hug Izuku, as quick and tight as you could before getting in the car. 

Talk in the car consisted of the usual after missions, which felt familiar and good. Obviously your darling didn’t hide his concern, but between your assurances were legitimate questions about how the villains were apprehended, what he’d watched, and the interest he gave in what the news didn’t cover- like asking more about your civilian recovery efforts and compliments about how many were saved today. This kind of cool down genuinely helped you leave work at work, and you appreciated that so much. It was a short drive, which you spent mostly holding Izuku’s hand in both of yours and receiving little kisses on that hand at stoplights. 

You walked arm in arm with him up to the second landing of your apartment, with him finally running through the more caring questions of ‘does it hurt to climb?’ ‘Throbbing or dull pain?’ ‘Are you hungry, or are the meds making you feel sick?’ 

You knew he’d be clingy and honestly needed that constancy after such an explosive afternoon. He was insistent on taking off your coat and getting your laces off with minimal effort from you, which you adored on any old regular day– but the waterworks came flooding back so hard while watching Izuku on his heels taking care of you that you stopped him altogether.

"-I remember the concussions Denki would have after going too hard with his quirk, too- ‘Chargebolt’, I think you’ve met. ‘Course, I think it affected his nervous system more than anything else-- w' h-honey? Are you crying?"

"Please just get up here~"

You hugged him tight the second he rose to full height,

"Oh sweetheart," Izuku petted your hair as you muted your cries, "Sweetheart it's ok, you're ok."

"I love y’so much..." you eeked out from a tight throat.

The eyes unseen over your shoulder stung at your words, but squeezed in just as tight there in the foyer.

"I love you too, honey. So, so much." Izuku kept you close and just rocked you in place to ground you, "Were you scared today?"

You nodded.

"I'm sure it was scary. Would have scared me too, being caught in the middle of all that," Izuku cooed over your shoulder. "Y'know it's okay to let it rattle you sometimes. That's why we're all here to support you. Help you bounce back."

//I have your back// Bakugou’s words hit you again in a wave. 

"It.. would have landed on me. I was right in the impact zone, when the southwest end came down," you sunk into Izuku’s neck at the memory, "...Bakugou got to me first. I wouldn'tve gotten out without him."

Izuku breathed out, touched beyond measure. “...he did?...”

"H'yelled at me for being stupid," you chuckled mirthlessly, "but he said some things. Really big things. And I'm just so sorry it happened at all! I don't wanna worry you when I’m out there!"

As you rushed through the emotions; not just of this fight, but filled to the brim and spilling over with other close calls like it. Izuku had a hard time understanding what was said that upset you, and just held you through it.

"C’mon, let's sit you down," Izuku picked you up like the koala you were and took you over to your couch, sitting with you perched in his arms. 

No longer surprised at the incredible strength he still carried -being able to pick you up like your dead weight was nothing- you sunk into his safety, solace found in his pressed shirt collar.

Your apologies turned into cries within a few minutes of settling in. 

The poor man's heart broke all over again, holding you tightly through your sobs, and hushing you through them. The crying was only going to make your headache worse. He knows this from experience, unfortunately… so even though he usually encouraged you to ‘feel your feelings to the fullest’, he did make an attempt to still you this time. Izuku pressed kisses to your warm forehead.

"Honey, easy, honey... what big things did Kacchan say?" 

//you're his spark//

//you're just like the damn nerd//

//match made in heaven//

//you're damn good for him//

"Tha-That I was... the love of- your life?"

Unseen, Izuku's sights widened. But had you been watching him and not hiding in his complete, cozying embrace, you would have seen the proudest look of love lifting those cheeks of his. How he smiled despite the concern he held for you in this moment, and took a grand look around the room - at the life you were tending to and nurturing together with fondness.

"You are the love of my life," Izuku assured you gently with the sweet coupling of your name, "Have I never told you that?"

Shown, certainly, but never told so beautifully. And to have come from Bakugou’s harsh lips of all people, the revelation was jarring in more ways than one.

You whispered 'no', but didn't let go for the life of you. Wouldn't ever let go of this darling man if he’d allow you to stay.

"-M'ere, look at me. Just for a minute, look here~"

You pressed back from his hold with unwilling muscles, only to be cradled in his hands. Green eyes full of tears looked back at you but with a full, strong smile forcing bravery forward.

"You -my sweetest girl- are the love of my life. I love who you are now, and who you're going to be forty, fifty, sixty years from now,” he pet your hair back and away with a little shaky nod, “and yeah- I might lose my lunch every now and then watching you out there…”

You sniffled again, baffled at how telling you all this could possibly be making him chuckle through his words–

“--but I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve watched the same tv screen and been so insanely proud of you! To watch you go out there and win, and shine, and– I can stomach all that fear. I can do that. Because I know you and I believe in you! And I am so thankful that I happen to know the heroes you do this hard work with can help take care of you and have your back. That’s what it’s all about- doing it together.”

You hang on Izuku’s every word of affirmation. It’s the language he’s best in, no matter the subject. Thankfully, right now, he's set on putting you back on solid heartground- assuring you of everything you doubt about yourself. Your power, your inspiration, all of it.

“You’re saving people- helping those who can't do it themselves, and you do it so well, love. These scary things happen… but honestly? It only makes me love you more for facing it like you do. And getting up the next day, and watching you come at it again.”

You keen under his full attention. The praise and love he’s washing you with is so earnest and filled with pride, it kills you to ever have obligations elsewhere in the world outside of his company.

Surely you can just stay supple in his arms for eternity and no one would miss you. 

“So you don’t need to be out there worried about what I’m thinking of you,” Izuku worked on wiping your blurry tears, “because I’m going to double down on replacing those worries in your head. I’m going to remind you every day of it. You’re never going to not have me in your corner, because you are the love of my life.”

Soothed and emotional in an entirely different vein, you nod you head back with a firm, brave smile of you own, before gingerly pulling him close for a little forehead touch, a well-earned kiss, and another hug latched around his shoulders. 

Izuku tended to you after your hero work in a number of ways, depending on what you've weathered that day: from taking off your shoes, cooking you a meal, holding you soft and sweet against his body on the sofa like this, or even helping you burn off any excess steam on the particular amorous nights where you just feel too alive to not show him exactly what your primary reason for fighting is. 

To protect him. To protect everyone you love and care for. Making your family proud both here and heavenward, and proving to yourself that you can do the hard things. Having a partner to support you in this work is an invaluable bolster in your life, and you feel it in every swipe of his hands up and down your back in this exact moment. 

His touch assures you just as much as it comforts him. Tells you how much you're appreciated and welcomed when you reach the end of the day like it soothes him to have you safely off the streets. You also know that any tear-filled nights on his end come from a place of complete affection and commitment and you don't really care how much Bakugou or any of your other workmates might tease you for being soft right along with ‘the damn nerd’. 

He's your damn nerd. The one you come home to and plan to spend the rest of the evening tending to your headache and scratchy throat and whatever other hurts have trickled out from your tough shell. 

From about your fifth date on, you'd felt in your gut that ‘Midoriya’ was likely going to be the name you'd be filling out as your emergency contact for life, so you started doing so on your contract renewals. That probably proved he was the love of your life, too, even if you didn't say so outright. 

Content to hold you forever, Izuku still asked of you gently, 

“Poor thing, you gotta be exhausted. I know you showered, but would you like a bath to let the steam help?” He kissed your nearby shoulder within reach, “It'll help the drainage go away.”

That sounded amazing and all but guaranteed he'd like to stay as close to you as possible. You hummed in the affirmative, close to bursting. 

“Good. We’ll get that started, whenever you're ready. Anything my brave girl wants.”

There's truly only one thought on your mind- the insistent proof of it lies hidden beneath your sweater neckline, slid onto a long silver necklace. A ring sized for Izuku is something you've worn every patrol for a couple months now, and is practically burning as you adjust your seat on his lap to find his face. 

You're fishing past your collar uncomfortably, looking for the damn thing tangled with your agency lanyard, but dead set that you can't go on without him wearing it.

“Hm? I'm here, hon’, what do you need?-- what's-… Baby. Oh baby, what's that...?”

You hold the ring still looped on the chain, lifted for him to see between fingers that don't shake anymore. Firm and steady. Because he's loved you so well and so thoroughly tonight and every night, it's the easiest thing to ask the stunned, gorgeous man beneath you,

“Marry me.”

[bitchinbarzal]

What you left behind | A Fantilli

based on this ask

-

You’d heard them talking about you at the Hobey award ceremony.

“I feel bad acting like everything’s ok! Y/N has no idea”

“Adam should’ve told her before she flew all the way out here”

“I can’t believe he’s breaking up with her”

Your heart dropped and you walked away before you heard anymore. You sat throughout the whole ceremony with a wary smile.

By the end of it you had excused yourself on account of not feeling well. You were so ill and knew fine well why but now this was making you feel worse.

When Adam did return to your hotel room that night, bustling around while you faced the wall in the darkness you were deciding if you wanted to address the situation or not.

It wasn’t until he got into bed that you spoke

“I know you want to break up with me”

Adam sighed and turned on the bedside light “Babe it’s not you-“

“Do not say it’s not you, it’s me! God, Adam I thought we were better than this!”

“I don’t want to hold you down while I’m away!”

You were now stood up from the bed “You want to go to Columbus! It’s like four hours from Ann Arbor!”

He groans “I could end up literally anywhere and I don’t, I don’t want to drag this relationship with me while I’m starting off in the NHL!”

You gasp lowly “You think this relationship is a drag? Adam there’s something-“

You were crying now, getting yourself upset thinking about how your entire world was crumbling around you.

“Listen let’s just call it ok? You’re clearly getting upset and-“

You laugh ironically “I am getting upset because my boyfriend is breaking up with me and I’m trying to tell him I’m p-“

“I get it, you’re pissed but I think this is for the best I’m going to stay in Luca’s room for the night” Adam finishes, almost infuriating you as he picks up his hoodie and phone before kissing your forehead and leaving the room.

When the door clicked shut you sat down on the bed and let out a shaky breath and placed your hand over your belly “It’s just me and you kid, eh?”

You were packed up and gone before Adam got back to the room the next morning, leaving him feeling somewhat disappointed.

He had tried to call but you’d blocked his number. Eventually he gave in and stop trying to contact you to apologize for how it all went down.

You on the other hand were too busy in the summer break preparing for the baby’s arrival in november.

It felt weird being home all summer. Typically you’d be spending your time split between vacations, lake houses and this year was supposed to be spent by Adam’s side as he was drafted.

Now you were knee deep in baby sleep suits, stuffed animals and diapers all needing to be organized into boxes.

The summer was hard, you’d been contemplating not going back to college now you would ultimately be single parenting and how difficult that was going to be.

It had taken a lot of thinking but you knew you couldn’t give up on school, not now you were all your daughter had.

The new school year looked a lot different. You’d moved out of dorms with your best friend and into your own apartment, you’d dropped out of your position as social admin of the hockey and lacrosse teams and even changed some of your classes to better align with better paid positions post graduate.

It only took the boys a day to notice your absence from the team.

“Where’s y/n? There’s no way she left us because Adam broke up with her!” Dylan whined as the team got changed after their first practice.

Luca just shrugged “I haven’t seen her, I don’t even know if she’s back this year”

“She wasn’t in our sports management class this morning” Mark adds “And her best friend has a new roommate”

Luca then became a little concerned. He’d gone from seeing you all day, everyday to not even knowing where you were.

That was until that evening at Tony’s, the pizza place you, Adam and Luca would go every Tuesday. It seemed as though you guys were keeping to the tradition as you both stood in line to order your pizza.

“Y/N?” You froze hearing his voice, slowly turning around with a coy smile

“Hey Luca” You reply sweetly, not missing how his eyes were now glued on your now seven month pregnant belly.

“Hey so-“

“You’re pregnant?”

You tut “Yeah it looks like it” you joke “so don’t judge when I tank a whole pizza alone I’m technically eating for two”

He softly laughs before he asks “Is it Adam’s?”

You can’t hide it and you know it so you nod “Yeah, it is”

You expect Luca to yell at you but he doesn’t. Instead he grumbles “and you didn’t tell him?!”

His anger takes you back a little and you sigh sadly “I tried Luca”

“Not very hard!”

The tears started the gather in your eyes as you thought back to that night you and Adam broke up and you tried to tell him about your little baby girl.

“Luca You don’t know anything ok? I tried to tell him but he was too busy breaking up with me! You know what Lu, pretend this interaction never happened!” You scoffed, taking off out of the restaurant.

Only five minutes after you got in your apartment the doorbell rang and you waddled to the front door, very unamused and hungry.

On the other side of the door stood Luca holding your order from Tony’s.

“I’ve got pizza?” He smiled and you gestured him in.

The two of you ate the pizza and garlic knots in silence until Luca asked

“Is It a boy or girl?”

You wiped your hands with a napkin before you said “A little girl”

He smiles “and you’re due?”

“November, middle of November”

He nods before he reaches across the table to squeeze your hand “I’m really sorry you’ve done this alone, but I’m sure Adam would want to know he has a daughter”

You retracted your hand from his and scoffed “He didn’t want to be ‘held down’ Luca! His words! So no, I’m not telling him because when I tried, he shut me down so this is his loss!”

Luca wanted to fight you, to stick up for his little brother but he knew better so he gave in. He knew which battle he wanted to pick

“Can I… can I be in her life? She is my niece after all I want to be in her life”

You softened “Of course you can Luca, you can be as involved with her as you want as long as you don’t tell your brother”

Luca reluctantly agrees and so he begins a part in this secret.

Over the following weeks he spent nights over at your house, helped you set up the nursery and was helping you study in your new classes.

He’d slowly stopped speaking to Adam as the secret was getting harder to keep and Adam had noticed.

When Luca didn’t go to Columbus with the rest of his family for Adam’s birthday, Adam knew something was wrong.

So when I’m November the blue jackets played Detroit, Adam, Nick and Kent took the trip to Ann Arbor to watch their old team play.

You wouldn’t have gone to the game that night had you known he would be there but it was too late. You saw him in the crowd. You’d been sitting in a seat, wearing Luca’s jersey so nobody else on the team could see your bump when you spotted Kent closely followed by Adam.

After that you made a mad dash out of Yost, but not before Adam saw you.

He watched you leave, watched you walk out and never said a thing. He had conflicted feelings about seeing you again. He knew it was a possibility but he didn’t know for sure not after his friends told him you’d basically distanced yourself so far from the team, what caught his eye though was his brothers name and number on the back of your jersey.

After the game Adam found his brother outside the locker room

Luca looked surprised to see him, looking around cautiously for someone else by the looks of it “Adam, what’re you doing here?”

“Dropping by to see the team, what’s wrong? You seem on edge? Looking for someone?” Adam wasn’t sly with his questions.

“No I just-“

“Not my ex girlfriend? Not Y/N? Who left by the way”

Luca looked panicked “you saw her?!”

“Yeah i saw her leaving, wearing your jersey! Dude are you fucking y/n? How could-“

Luca scoffs “I’m not fucking her!”

“Well what’s going on? You haven’t come to visit, we hardly talk, she’s walking around here in your jersey and you seem really agitated about her right now so cmon dude spill it! I’d rather you just told me straight but I’m gonna be mad you know I’m still in love with her!!”

Before Luca can even defend himself and you, his phone starts ringing. It’s you.

As soon as he picks up the phone he can hear you crying “what’s going on? Talk me y/n”

That peaks Adam’s interest.

“I fell Luca! I fell and I need to go to the hospital I’m bleeding-“

“I’m coming, I’m coming just hang in there you guys are gonna be ok is the ambulance there? Ok just go and I’ll meet you at the hospital”

Adam is traipsing behind him still demanding answers when Luca shouts “Just get in the car Adam! I don’t have time to deal with you right now”

Adam can feel Luca’s stress and it’s confusing him, a lot.

When they arrive at the hospital he finally asks “Why are we here? What is going on? Who’s hurt?”

Luca sighs, pinching his nose and just praying you’ll understand why he did it

“Y/N is pregnant” he states as if it was the simplest thing while Adam’s entire world just exploded.

He was still in love with you and you were having a baby.

“Is It yours?” Adam asked “Because if it is I’m gonna let you call mom before I fucking kill-“

Luca holds his hand up to his little brother “The baby is yours”

Adam is going through every emotion possible at the moment, stuttering out “Why didn’t you tell me? She didn’t-“

“She tried Adam, the day you broke up with her”

He feels horrible, he feels heartbroken.

“And Why are we at the hospital? Do we need to go in? Is she ok?”

“She said there’s been bleeding, that she fell after the game. That could be bad Adam so just don’t go in there guns blazing when she could have lost her baby”

Adam’s heart breaks even further for his baby; who’s existence he’s only known of for a minute who might now be dead.

The brothers make their way up to the ward and ask for you to which the nurse smiles sympathetically “It’s family only, sorry boys”

Luca hurries “He’s the babies dad, she’s pregnant-“

“Actually, miss y/l/n had a turn in the ambulance after she was picked up by paramedics and she is no longer pregnant” Adam and Luca both gasped lowly, heartbroken when the nurse continued “She delivered her babygirl in the ambulance on route here. Congratulations dad, head on down its room 103”

The two shared glances before Luca patted his little brother on the back “You’re a dad, man!”

“I’m a dad…” he repeats, almost in disbelief.

When Adam got to your room and walked in you were laying in the hospital bed holding your little girl in your arms mumbling something to her. When you looked up and saw Adam the smile on your face dropped

“What’re you-“

“Is she ok? Are you ok?” He interrupted, walking over to you both.

You looked surprised “Luca told you?”

He nods “the cliff notes, we were in a rush”

You nodded understandingly “She’s perfect, all eight pounds of perfection”

You watch Adam step closer and closer to you both when you say “Adam, do you want to hold her?”

He nods, sitting down in the chair next to your bed and taking her into his arms. You watch them as Adam whispers sweet words to her.

“Hi babygirl, I’m your daddy”

When he finally puts her in her bassinet, Adam turns to you “I’m so sorry you went through this all alone, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you that night and I’m sorry I just abandoned us… I regret it everyday”

You smile softly “Do you miss me?” It was a lighthearted jab but Adam grabs your hands, seriously and says “So much, everyday I’ve thought about what an idiot I was to let you go. The love of my life”

“Adam you really broke my heart, I’m not sure how I would’ve survived if it wasn’t for her” you say gesturing to the baby asleep next to you.

He squeezes your hands “I know and I can only apologise and beg you to understand I acted on stupid judgement. We could always make long distance work and you have never held me down ever, you make me a better person y/n, I guess now you both do”

Eventually around eleven your nurse manages to sneak Luca into your room. He fully expected you two at each others throats when he entered but instead he found you both sitting on your bed holding your daughter in your hands just adoring her.

“Hey guys, she’s beautiful y/n congratulations”

You smile “thanks uncle Lu”

“So what’s princess called?”

Adam looks at you to tell him and you take pleasure when you say “This is Lucia, her name is inspired by our role model. Both of us”

Luca crouches down by Lucia’s sleeping body and brushes his thumb over her cheek “Hi Lu, I’m your uncle Luca. I love You so much already and I don’t even know you yet”

Your head absentmindedly rested on Adams’s shoulder and he kissed the crown of your head and mumbled “My girls, my whole world”

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 11: Pet Play

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5711

Warnings: Afab!reader, coercion, abuse of power, exploitative dynamic, pet play/puppy play, vaginal fingering, humiliation/degradation, dubcon, use of ‘good girl’ and other gendered language

A/N: Sorry this one is late, I physically could not keep my eyes open to do the editing 😭

⭐

“This is an abuse of power, I hope you know that.” 

Looking up at the low hiss, Al-Haitham casually moves his book aside to peer down at where you’re knelt on the floor. You can feel his eyes burning into you but refuse to actually bring your head up and look at him, far too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Just glimpsing the shift in your peripheral is almost enough to crumble your resolve and send you running from the room but you had an objective here. A goal you refused to back down from no matter to what frustrating lengths he went just to stonewall you so you fiercely maintain your position, even when your arms shudder and threaten to give out. 

You couldn’t believe him. The nerve he had, putting you into this kind of situation! Not only was it a major abuse of power but also a punishable offense in the Akademiya’s code of conduct that would have escalated into quite a buzzing scandal were it not for the fact you had no one to turn to about it. Even if you did try to file a complaint it would just end up on his desk by the next morning and you would be worse off than you’d started. 

You’d always thought the Grand Sage held far too much sway and authority over the Akademiya’s internal affairs with nothing to keep them in check, and Al-Haitham was just further solidifying that belief. 

A long moment of terse silence settles over the still office, and you really don’t expect him to even dignify that assertion with a response when the only reason he was entertaining this in the first place was to prove a point. But then, to your dull surprise, he eventually draws an apathetic breath. 

“No one is forcing you to do this, least of all myself. You’re welcome to gather up your belongings and leave at any time. It’s not like I’m holding you hostage or anything.” 

You bark out a humorless laugh, bitter and strained. That was certainly easy for him to say when he was the one with all the control here. If the roles had been reversed, you were sure he would have been squirming too. 

Well … maybe not. This was Al-Haitham you were talking about but that was hardly the point! 

“I’m not leaving,” You grit, trying very hard to keep the tremor out of your voice. “Not until you sign that paper!” 

Shrugging as if he really could care less, Al-Haitham returns to his book without a second thought to the matter. You curse him under your breath, rather creatively too, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear it. Completely unperturbed and eternally at ease, he just sits there in his high backed chair with one ankle crossed over the opposite leg while he reads — you steal a quick, harried glance at the title on the cover. The Compendious Book on Calculation by Completion and Balancing? Was that seriously what his mind was focused on right now? 

Stamping down the urge to seethe through your teeth, you stiffly readjust the placement of your hands on the floor and try to distribute your weight more evenly. You probably shouldn’t have been surprised to end up in this situation after bursting into his office against your better judgment and prostrating yourself at his feet, begging for his signature and promising to do anything he asked in return. You’d expected, perhaps, monetary favors, personal debt, indentured servitude or maybe even transactional sex but this went far beyond what you could have ever anticipated. 

He’d simply told you to stay like that. Nothing else and no further instructions. At first you’d thought this was just a bizarre precursor to an inappropriate sexual liaison with the Acting Grand Sage, that he was just far more perverted than you’d initially thought and he got off on having women kneel at his feet like some kind of brute. So you’d stayed like that, on hand and bended knee, but it was fast approaching an hour now and still he’d barely even looked at you, never mind made any kind of advance. 

You were furious with him as much as yourself. But pride could be a funny thing and you were a bit too stubborn to give up now when you’d already stooped this low. Even if he stayed here all night reading his stupid book in perpetual silence you weren’t leaving until you got him to sign off on that damned budget request! 

Unfortunately you were quickly losing strength in your arms and you gingerly rock back to settle more squarely on your knees, attempting to lessen some of the pressure. You grimace at the deep ache that throbs through your limbs as you try to discreetly roll some of the tension out with slow rotations of your wrists but it does little in the way of good, and you give a small hiss.  

“You’re getting tired.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you nearly jolt right up off the floor in your surprise. 

“I’m not!” Stubbornly, you return to your original position even when it makes the screaming tendons in your limbs cry out in protest. You couldn’t let him win. If you gave up now he’d just send you packing and that paper would never get signed. “Your book must be pretty dull if you’re still focused on me though. Maybe you should stop playing this silly game already and just give me what I came here for.” 

Al-Haitham lowers his book to look at you again. “I’m playing a silly game?” Quietly scoffing, he lowers his arm altogether to let it rest across his bent knee with the book dangling towards the floor now. “Look, I don’t say this to discourage you but I’m really not sure what you think this is going to accomplish. I didn’t agree to anything nor did I make a bargain with you. You’re the one who decided to camp out here under the assumption that your obstinance would net you the result you wanted. Honestly I’m a bit surprised at how stubborn you’re being about this.” 

“I need that budget sign off!” 

“You might need it but that doesn’t mean you’re going to get it.” 

You can’t quite stop yourself from snapping your attention up to gape at him. He couldn’t be serious! “How dare you talk to me like a child …” 

With a slow, deliberate blink of his eyes, Al-Haitham tips his head to one side, looking for all the world like an observant predatory bird regarding its prey. “How else am I supposed to treat you when you’re acting like one?” 

An affronted burst of sound comes out of you, but when you draw a sharp breath to snap at him nothing comes out. You’re just left with your mouth hanging open like a fool, so you slowly close it again and try to rein in your temper. You couldn’t let him get under your skin like this. The sooner he turned your own emotions against you the sooner you’d be sent from his office empty handed. Maintaining a level head even in the face of his infuriating attitude was likely the only thing that would see you through this standoff and, steeling your resolve, you narrow your eyes up at him. 

“I’m not leaving until you give me your signature.” 

“Do you really think you can outlast me?” 

“If that’s what it takes, yes.” 

A quiet beat passes over the room while he seems to consider that in his mind. Not that his typically unreadable expression told you much of anything, but he hadn’t returned to his book yet and his viridescent eyes had taken on a distant quality that would seem to suggest deep thought. You aren’t sure what he’s going to come back at you with — grudging acquiescence, just to get you out of his office, or a call for the guards to come and take you away by force — but it’s certainly not for him to sedately uncross his legs and lean forward, elbows bracing on his knees. 

You go ramrod stiff, so shocked you can’t even find the wherewithal to properly react when he slouches down to look you square in the face and you abruptly realize just how close you really are. You’d never seen him from only a scant few inches away like this, the strong cut of his jaw and handsome brow catching you completely off guard. How had you never noticed how striking he was?

“Fine.” He intones, surprising you so much you have to do a double take.

“What?” 

“I said fine. Since you want to play this game so badly, I suppose I’d be willing to meet you somewhere in the middle. Unless, of course, your precious budget isn’t worth the gamble?” 

You realize what he’s doing immediately. It would have been a little hard not to when he was staring at you with those deeply impertinent eyes, just daring you to take the bait and see who came out on top. This wasn’t a compromise, it was a flat out challenge! He was so damn confident he could best you that the notion of having to actually sign off on your paper clearly wasn’t even a concern in his mind. You hated him for it, handsome or not, and you don’t try to hide it as you harden your expression. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, you bastard.” 

“Alright.” Straightening up, Al-Haitham snaps the book in his hand shut to finally give you his full attention. “Take off your clothes.” 

Your heart sputters and nearly extinguishes. “Excuse me?” 

He actually has the audacity to quirk a brow at you, like you were the one with the problem, and you run even hotter than before. The nerve of him! But if that was how he wanted to be then fine, you would simply meet him head on and see who could really outlast who. 

Teeth gnashing, you jerk your body upright and viciously tear at your robe to get it pulled up over your head before he can say anything else about it. You were so mad, so incredibly pissed at him that you nearly knock yourself off balance and tip over from how hard you yank your own clothes off. He wasn’t going to win, though. You would sooner jump into the endless ocean without a life preserver before ever admitting defeat to the likes of him! 

Irritably tossing everything aside, you gradually work your way down to the bottommost layer but you don’t stop long enough to let it give you pause. Your silk chemise comes off with a snarl and then you’re tugging soft bloomers down so you can inelegantly kick your way out of them as well. Finally, you find yourself kneeling in the Grand Sage’s office, completely naked and chest heaving uncontrollably as you glare daggers at him still sat comfortably in his seat. But he just impassively looks at you as if he wasn’t in any way moved, neither impressed by your nudity or all that interested by the looks of it. Just another factor to humiliate you with. 

“You forgot your shoes.” He says at last, and your blood pressure spikes so hard and so fast that you momentarily forget how to breathe. 

Twisting around, you rip off one of your slippers so you can cock it back with every intention of sending it flying right at his smug face. But you barely have enough time to get your arm up before he suddenly grabs you by the wrist, halting the motion before you can follow through. Choking on your anger as much as your surprise, you watch him slowly rise from his seat so he can lean over you and put his face close to yours again. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He tells you in such a bland, unconcerned tone that for a split second you’re not even sure if he’s actually being sincere or not. But then he expectantly holds up his unoccupied hand and you whither under that inscrutable gaze. “Give me the shoe.” 

You desperately try to keep hold of your fiery rage but it sputters out quickly enough under his cool, mild temperament and you suddenly feel a bit silly — it was hard not to when Al-Haitham looked at you like that — and you obediently hand it over to him when he lets up his hold on your wrist. Feeling appropriately cowed, you ease back to sit on your haunches while he straightens up to his full, towering height to speculatively regard your shoe for a moment. Listless, you reach back and shove the other one off your foot without a care to where it may fall. 

Finally, he looks at you again. “Back into position.”

A short beat of confusion marches through your mind before you realize what he wants, and your face quickly starts to heat up again. He was certainly pushing his luck today. And although you may not have had your anger to cling to anymore you still had your resolve, and it doesn’t abandon you even now. Grudgingly, you comply. 

Shifting forward to brace on your hands and knees again, you settle into place before him even when it only seems to highlight your stark nudity. Your breasts sway softly with the motion, nipples puckered tight in the decidedly cool office, but you try your best to ignore it. Instead, you bring your head up, ready to snap at him — but his hand coming to rest on top of your head abruptly stops you in your tracks. 

“Good girl.” 

Your stomach lurches. What the hell did he think he was doing? 

“Y - you — I don’t —“ You choke and stammer, unable to get so much as a single coherent sentence out, but he just … pets you. Idly rubs his (frustratingly) large hand over your head for a brief moment before pulling away without even a hint of shame to show for it. As if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing and not incredibly, deeply belittling. 

But if he recognizes the look of affronted disbelief on your face he certainly doesn’t show it and merely shifts back to settle his weight to one side. With your slipper still clutched in his fingers, you bitterly note. 

“Now that we’ve established you can follow directions, here's how this is going to work. I’ll give you an hour of my time since you wasted one of yours hoping I’d change my mind about the budget paper. I don’t usually negotiate or give in to demands like this, but if you can show me you have the resolve to back up your beliefs with meaningful action then I’ll give you my sign off. Your field holds a great deal of potential but that was no small sum you asked for. I want to know if you can actually back it up or not.” 

“And how am I supposed to do that?” You growl, feeling your temper start to spike again. 

Without missing a beat the hand at his side shifts, gesturing towards the spot next to him with a quick snap of his fingers. “Come here.” 

Your body gives a subconscious, angry little jerk at the sound but you bite your tongue, knowing if you allowed yourself to speak now you’d just flush everything down the toilet. It’s exceptionally hard to do when you knew too well what he was actually asking you to do, but you try to remind yourself what was on the line. Why you were even doing this in the first place. Any humiliation suffered would be well worth it once you got your hands on that budget and you could always deal with him later, after the next Grand Sage had been officially chosen. 

Resigned, you silently rock forward and crawl the few paces across the floor, keeping your head down while making a valiant effort not to think about how ridiculous you must look in that moment. But he doesn’t react when you shuffle up to him, his expression as unreadable as ever when you chance a quick look. You almost ask what else he wants you to do and then a blood curdling thought occurs to you. He was rather blatantly treating you like a dog now, so did that mean he wanted you to come to heel? 

Your motions are stiff with annoyance as you carefully readjust your position and spin around until your upper body is perfectly lined up with his legs, your hand resting a scant few millimeters from his boot. To your simmering annoyance, he once again bends down to give your head a rather condescending, if not impartial, pat. 

“Good girl. Now sit.” 

You shoot him a quick, dangerous look but still ease back to sit on your calves. That doesn’t quite seem to be enough for him though and, jaw clenched tight, you slowly straighten out of your hunched position to sit up, blushing red hot when it effectively presents your tits to the room. 

Al-Haitham’s hand finds your head again and he murmurs another soft ‘good girl’ that makes you feel a million abstract emotions all at once. You can’t quite decide if you hate him it or not, and try to pull away with a half choked sound of annoyance. Luckily, (for you or him, you couldn't decide) he lets you twist from him without comment and you have to bite back the whimper that rises in your throat when he slowly straightens up to tower over you again. Alright, so this was perhaps even more deviant than making you kneel at his feet all day, and you feel the hot stab of embarrassment at that deep in your chest, but surely this was going a bit far, even for him? 

“You don’t have to keep doing that …” You grumble, pointedly looking anywhere else in the room. 

“Oh? And how else am I supposed to reinforce good behavior then?” 

Your cheeks grow even hotter. “I am not a dog, Acting Grand Sage. Nothing needs to be reinforced!” 

“I disagree. The way you burst in here was bad enough but then you took it upon yourself to try and force my hand when I wouldn’t give you what you wanted. That’s not how sensible adults behave. Clearly you lack training.” 

Is that what this was? Correctional action? It was so absurd you almost laugh. You might have been out of line in coming here to try and strongarm him, but then what did the current situation say about his behavior? He had you naked, following his commands like a pet, and he didn’t see anything wrong with that? You’d never before known someone more absurd or audacious.

“Even if that were true, do you really think it’s your place to do the training?” 

“For the next fifty-five minutes? Yes, it is.” Ignoring the incensed noise you make to that, Al-Haitham pivots his body to stand in front of you now, effectively swapping your starting positions. He’s so close you have to crane your neck back to look up at him but his expression remains as passive and disinterested as ever. “It’s a shame I didn’t have time to prepare anything for you beforehand.” He murmurs, more to himself than to you. “I think you’d look perfect wearing a nice collar and leash. Maybe something pink with a bow? I could probably even find a tail for you in a backroom of the bazaar somewhere.” 

His words have their intended effect of making you squirm in place, flushing hot with shame at the mental image he’s instilled in you. For someone who didn’t even look all that invested in the first place, he sure was letting his imagination run wild. “In your dreams, you creep.” 

He gives you another of those long, deliberately slow blinks. “Then let’s teach you a new trick. You’ll like that, I’m sure.” Lifting his hand just short of chest level, Al-Haitham gives his fingers another snap. “Beg, pretty girl.” 

So gradually it feels like your skin is crawling, every single hair on your body stands on end until you feel vaguely like a puffed up, incensed cat. Your mouth works but nothing comes out around the simmering rock now lodged in your throat. Of all the upsetting things he’s said and done to you, this was somehow the worst yet — and the addition of ‘pretty girl’ certainly wasn’t making it any better. 

“You - -!” 

“Ah, ah. Not like that. Dogs can’t ask for things or yell at their owners, can they? Do it without using your voice.”

Another snap of his fingers has you seeing red. You didn’t understand how you were supposed to do this in a way that would satisfy him … and more to be cute than anything else, you stiffly bring your hands up and curl them into loose fists. To your surprise he nods once but doesn’t lean down to pet you or call you a good girl so you take that to mean he wasn’t quite satisfied with it yet. You had no idea what else he expected of you though. Trying to sit up a little straighter, jutting your tits out in the process, likewise doesn’t earn you his acknowledgement though and you soon start to panic. If you weren’t able to meet his expectations — whatever they were — he was just going to send you away. You had to think of something, quick! 

“W - woof?” You try hopefully, genuine surprise washing over you when he allows himself the briefest smile. 

“You’re getting there, but not quite. You just need to fix your position.” 

Fix it? Fix it how! 

It takes a long moment for it to sink in, the full weight of what he’s asking you to do, and you outright grimace at the thought that finally comes to mind. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing but, seeing what little choice you actually had, you carefully get your legs under you and then push up to balance on your feet in a leapfrog position. Still, though, that’s not enough to please him, and you start to feel well and truly like you might cry out of frustration. This was impossible. Considering who you were dealing with you probably should have anticipated as much but …

Al-Haitham abruptly shifts forward then and it makes you give a subconscious little twitch. To your wary confusion, though, all he does is lower himself down to crouch in front of you on the balls of his feet. “Like this. You need to straighten your spine, and sit nice and tall for me. You want to get my attention don’t you?”

Your face feels like it’s going to catch fire at any given moment. He sounded far too reasonable for someone making you debase yourself like this but even for as obtuse and arrogant as he was, you still trusted his word. Geniuses were usually a bit eccentric in one way or another but Al-Haitham, at least, was a man who didn’t misspeak (whenever he bothered to speak at all) so if he said this would  get your paper signed you believed him. 

You have to pause to steady your nerves before you do it but, at length, you finally push up to center your balance on the balls of your feet as well and then straighten your back. For good measure, you lift your hands to your chest and curl them into loose fists again, pinning him with a flustered yet plaintive look even when every fiber of your being was screaming at you to cover yourself. You can feel the air in the room waft against your bare cunt, acutely aware of how this humiliating position spreads your pussy lips slightly and bares you to his steady gaze, but you try very hard not to think about that right now. 

“Good girl.” He finally relents, his usually bland tone softening almost imperceptibly, but it still stabs you in the gut as if he’d taken a knife to you. 

Wavering, you force your legs to steady under your weight when he reaches out, heart pounding a wild, erratic beat inside your chest as you track the motion of his hand. A soft whimper bubbles up in your throat at the casual way he slips those long fingers between your spread thighs and ever so softly brushes them over your cunt. The slight nudge against your clit forces you to draw a steadying breath, so hot and jittery with nerves you start to feel faint. Although you’d half expected him to ask for sexual favors when you first forced your way in here, this was not quite what you’d had in mind … 

It’s something far, far worse than what your imagination could have ever come up with, but you let him pet at you with unhurried strokes of his fingers, teasing over creases and folds as if to map out the feel of you through touch alone. His fingertips are blunt and surprisingly rough for a scribe, and it catches you off guard how your skin clings to him because of it. Your clit, especially, feels incredibly soft and pliant under his hand, and the periodic nudge against it makes your legs twitch with the urge to squeeze them shut. 

“See? I knew you could follow directions …” Trailing off, Al-Haitham studies your face for a long beat with that perpetually unreadable expression of his. Like he was deliberating over what to embarrass you with next. 

Shyly, you try to divert your gaze elsewhere so you won’t have to look directly at him but he’s knelt much too close. He takes up almost all of your field of vision no matter what you do, and your mouth drops open when he suddenly reaches further back to prod at your entrance. 

“Now speak.” 

Lightheaded and more than just a little dizzy now, you try to work out what he wants you to say — and then it hits you. Whining low in your throat, unable to hold it back, you shift to steady your faltering balance and subtly angle your cunt from him. “Wh - woof … woof, woof …” 

Unhesitatingly, his fingers follow you and press up, just dipping into your body. You go stock still and shudder so hard you almost tip over, struggling to make sense of what’s even happening anymore. But true to nature Al-Haitham has no time or patience to waste on explanations, and he breaches your cunt at a tortuously slow pace that leaves you gasping for breath. The stretch that comes with his two fingers brings tears to your eyes, threatening to spill over when he finds slick waiting for him inside. 

“Good girl. You’re being so well behaved for me now. Much better than your earlier foolishness,” Pausing at the first joint, he takes a moment to simply feel around and wriggle his fingertips, encouraging your pussy to open up for him and relax around the intrusion. The motion draws a soft, wet click from your body, and you all but whither right there in front of him. “You can ask for things without being such a brat about it. Good behavior will net you far better results anyway, and it will keep you out of trouble too. The next time you think about strong arming someone into giving you what you want, I hope you remember this … and if you ever need a refresher I’d be happy to give it to you.” 

You don’t quite get the chance to fully process what he’s saying. His fingers angle further up, using the natural lubrication of your cunt to slide in a little deeper, and you throw your head back to seethe at the ceiling. He’s gentle about it but insistent and demanding at the same time, and your cunt slowly relents under the stilted pressure. The second joint stretches you open and then — he’s inside you, straight down to the knuckles. Swaying, your legs start to shake from maintaining this position when you wanted nothing more than to scuttle away from him as much as from the onslaught of sensation that comes with it. You felt faint. Delirious. 

How were you possibly supposed to rationalize that the Acting Grand Sage was buried deep inside your pussy and your squeezing guts were actively trying to milk him dry? 

“Beg, pretty girl. Let me hear you.” 

Struggling just to breathe, you awkwardly shift on your feet and readjust the demeaning position of your hands where they’d started to droop. “Nnghn … w - woof woof … woof wo — oof!” 

The startled sound punches out of you when Al-Haitham curls his fingers at such a hard, unrelenting angle it nearly pulls you off balance. Up towards your belly button, he briefly massages along the inner sleeve of your shuddering body until he finds the spongy nerve cluster he’s looking for. The pressure he exerts on it sends you to the very tips of your toes, a futile effort to escape the demanding attention, but he remains ever one track minded. Now that he's found it, he attacks the spot with merciless focus and the constant barrage makes your whole body twitch and tingle like you were a lit firecracker just waiting to explode. You hated it, the way he was turning your body against you like this, but there was no denying the innate reaction you were experiencing. 

Your pussy practically floods around his fingers and the sticky suction rapidly increases under his ministrations until the attention grabbing click coming from between your legs seems to dominate the room. It even threatens to drown out your gasping, heaving moans as you helplessly rock on your feet, doing everything in your power just to stay upright. It’s a true test of willpower when your muscles were so taxed and aching, and the rapidly swelling pressure in your cunt certainly wasn’t helping either. But still, your stubborn pride won’t let you give up and, still, you were determined to beat him at his own game. 

So you keep barking even when your breath is robbed from you, what was once hushed and begrudging noises meant only to signal your compliance quickly devolving into tiny little yips and pleasured groans. You couldn’t have stopped it even if you’d wanted to, and you no longer had the wherewithal to even keep up the pretense of not enjoying this on some level. It felt good, much to your horror and shame. You hated it as much as you hated him, but your baser instincts had effectively taken over and it sweeps you up in its current with a raging vengeance. 

“That’s it. Cum for me, good girl.” He says, evidently recognizing the stricken look on your face for what it is. You think — in a far off, distant kind of way — that he must be out of his mind. That he was sorely mistaken if he thought you were going to climax for him, just like that. 

But then he reaches up with his unoccupied hand and pinches one of your nipples, giving it a possessive little tweak, and you feel the tension in you become that much more unbearable. Reeling and gasping, you sensitively rock forward on your toes and try to angle your cunt away but it’s no use. He’s completely unrelenting, and your eyes start to roll back in your head as the tremors tear through you faster than you can even comprehend. 

“Oh - oooh!”

“Archons, you’re soaking my fingers. If I’d known all you needed was some discipline, I would have done this much sooner.” 

A little piece of your ego seems to chip away and dissolve when your quaking hips give a stiff jerk at that, and your pussy clamps down around him so fiercely it almost hurts. And just like that the pressure tips. You fall over the edge into an uncontrollable fit of spasms, your orgasm rocking you straight down to your core. But even in the throes of your wild release you’re still acutely — horrifically aware of the moment your cunt gives under the pressure and squirts slick all over his hand and wrist. 

Suddenly your pleasure is ripped from you, instantly replaced with a suffocating, reeling sense of shock and disbelief even as you helplessly judder through the remainder of your orgasm. Tipping your head down to take a numb look at the space between your legs, hardly even daring to believe it, you feel a chill rush over you at the wet stains you see on the lush carpet. There was no way … 

Gradually, Al-Haitham eases up on his fingers when you start to go still, just eyeing your face with that inscrutable look for a long, quiet moment that’s interspersed only by your labored breathing. He doesn’t say anything at all as he slowly withdraws them from your body, ignoring the way you grimace and seethe at the resulting sticky slurp, but he does manage to take you by surprise when he reaches up to help steady you by the shoulders. You reluctantly accept his help, a little too shell shocked to maintain your attitude when it seemed like all you could do just to keep yourself together. And to your great relief he carefully helps you sink down to sit on the floor, which you do with nothing short of immense, overwhelming relief. 

It felt like your legs would never work properly again after crouching like that for so long, and that was to say absolutely nothing of your pride. What was even left of it. 

“You did well.” He suddenly says, prompting you to bring your head up to look at him. 

Despite your reservations, you allow yourself a slow, hopeful smile. “Does this mean you’ll sign off on my request now?” You venture to ask in a thin, trembling voice. 

“No. Not yet. You’ve still got another thirty minutes, I’m afraid.” 

Groaning, you drop your head and try not to scream. How you hated this man!

⭐

Crossposted: here

[goodolddumbbanana]

My God, a good Creator... I think not only Sun and Moon, I would cry to sleep right now. They really have daddy issues, my god. And it really shows Sun and Moon's life would be so much better if Creator doesn't be a piece of shit.

I DK if this is another Lunar and Solar thing but with Earth and Good Creator, or Sun will be the one who gets close with this good father. (Plz plz plz, can the VA give Sun some adult figures that Sun can trust and open???? I love Earth but if this is another Solar thing (connect with anyone but Sun) I think I would cry.

This episode today is so funny, and really nostalgic when seeing Moon acting like Nexus...

But it makes me wonder, what if Moon is self conscious about himself and thinks of himself lower than Nexus?

I think he is jealous of Nexus.

Because Nexus has stayed with his family for like a year, and he did technically everything kinda better before he went insane. And he is closer with his family than Moon can ever be, especially with Sun, the one who never in one time since when he comes back, calls Moon his brother.

And the way Sun is so not impressed with Moon's joke, and almost compared it to Nexus makes me wonder if this can be some problems for the future.

Like... He could snap again because he doesn't like to be compared with Nexus, just like Nexus tries so hard to make himself dissociated from the title "Moon". Which Both are just fall because they are technically the same person with different growth up environments.

I just feel like the way Moon tries so hard to crumble himself again at work and makes a lot of silly jokes for Sun, it is not only because he wants to replace Nexus's position fast. Bribes them with home, techs, any to make them think he is a good brother, he is a changing man now. But also, I think he feels disconnected with people in his family.

He doesn't know Earth, Lunar has his own things and he actually doesn't know about Lunar much from the start, and Sun is still not at ease with him yet.

(He doesn't know how to deal with this new Sun, who doesn't like playing along with his jokes anymore, who becomes so much depressed and tired and numb, who doesn't obsess with cleaning and at the same time being so compliant, like Sun doesn't think he has any choice and just do as people told and just enjoy what people give.)

I don't think Sun doesn't think about letting Jack or Dazzle stay with him. Because he said it before that Jack always has a spot in his home. I think it is just because this is Moon's house, so Sun thinks he wouldn't like anyone to try to invade his home.

This and how Moon almost mistakes Sun for Dark Sun, makes me wonder if that can be some kind of foreshadow?