#and Omega hangs with the others more equally

[ct-hardcase]

I have to say, the payoff for Echo and Wrecker being my favorite batchers has absolutely sucked so far

[fratttymatty]

Blaked

(All characters are 18+)

Evan Brooks had always been a quintessential college nerd. Tall, lanky, and bookish, he could usually be found with his nose buried in a comic book or his laptop, discussing the latest political developments or arguing about LGBTQ+ rights with his friends in the campus coffee shop. He was proudly gay, proudly liberal, and made no secret of his beliefs, often wearing rainbow pins and t-shirts with witty slogans about equality and social justice. His unruly, curly brown hair and round glasses were as much a part of his identity as his progressive values.

He was no stranger to ridicule from the more traditionally minded students on campus, particularly the jocks. But Evan didn’t care. He had his circle of friends, his own nerdy niche, and an ever-growing list of political science lectures he was excited to attend. Life wasn’t perfect, but it was his.

That all changed one fateful night in late spring, when Evan made the unfortunate decision to join a party hosted by one of the most infamous fraternities on campus: Omega Sigma Alpha.

The frat brothers were the quintessential jocks—blond, muscular, straight, and with a penchant for mocking anything that didn’t fit their idea of “normal.” They were, as Evan liked to think of them, the very embodiment of the type of people he didn’t get along with. So, when Evan was invited to the party, his first instinct was to decline. But after some peer pressure from one of his friends, who assured him it was "just for fun" and that he wouldn't have to interact with the jocks too much, Evan reluctantly agreed.

The moment Evan stepped into the house, he felt a strange energy. The music was loud, the air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and sweat, and the entire room seemed to pulse with an almost aggressive energy. He tried to stick to the edges of the room, chatting with his friend about politics and avoiding eye contact with the muscled guys who were throwing footballs around and challenging each other to drink shots faster than the other.

But it didn’t take long before he caught the attention of the fraternity's president, Jake, a tall, handsome blonde with a cocky grin. Jake was a textbook alpha—popular, confident, and straight as an arrow. He spotted Evan standing alone by the punch bowl, eyes narrowed in a mix of curiosity and disdain.

"Hey, nerd," Jake called, his voice mocking but playful. "You lost, or just looking for a safe space to hang out?"

Evan stiffened. "I'm fine, thanks," he replied coolly, trying to turn away.

But Jake wasn’t finished. With a confident swagger, he made his way over and clapped a hand on Evan’s shoulder, almost knocking him off balance. "You know, we could use a guy like you," Jake said, nodding to his frat brothers who were huddled nearby, grinning at Evan with barely concealed amusement. "Maybe if you’re willing to take the right steps, we can teach you how to actually fit in around here."

Evan’s heart pounded. He didn’t know what to make of the offer. He’d heard the whispers about the “jock transformation,” a rumor that had been circulating for a while but seemed too ridiculous to believe. No one ever took it seriously. It was said that a group of the frat’s most powerful members had developed some sort of mystical or scientific way of transforming people—changing them into ideal versions of themselves that fit their world. It was all nonsense, of course. Magic wasn’t real, right?

Jake leaned in closer, his grin widening as he spoke in a lower voice. "We can help you change, Evan. You could be one of us. You could be… like me."

The air around them grew colder, the room suddenly feeling very distant. The music seemed to fade as Jake’s words echoed in Evan’s mind. A sharp sensation shot through him—something hot and heavy, like he was being pulled in every direction at once. He tried to step back, but his body didn’t obey him. The room spun, and he suddenly felt incredibly dizzy.

Before he knew what was happening, his clothes began to tighten around him, shifting and morphing to better fit his changing form. His body felt as if it were being compressed and re-shaped—his limbs shorter, his chest broader, his waist slimmer. His once gangly form thickened with muscle, his posture straightened, and his once nerdy demeanor was replaced by an unshakable sense of confidence.

His curly brown hair straightened, growing longer and turning a rich, slightly sun-kissed blonde. His face reshaped—his jawline more chiseled, his features sharper and more rugged. His glasses vanished, replaced by a sharper, more intense gaze that reflected the physical transformation that was happening to his body. He could feel it all happening—his body, his very identity, changing at the molecular level.

Jake’s voice cut through the fog in Evan’s mind. "There you go, buddy," he said with a grin. "You look perfect now. Welcome to the new you."

Evan—or rather, the new person he was becoming—looked down at his hands, now large and calloused. His fingers flexed involuntarily, testing the strength he hadn’t had before. His breath caught as he saw his reflection in a nearby mirror.

The guy staring back at him wasn’t Evan anymore. He was a new person entirely—a tall, muscular guy with dirty blonde hair that was slightly curly at the ends, strong features, and a confident, almost arrogant expression. He was wearing a form-fitting t-shirt that stretched across his chest and jeans that hugged his legs, perfectly fitting the look of a college jock. The shift was total, all-encompassing, and irreversible.

For a brief moment, a flicker of confusion passed through Evan’s—or rather, his new self’s—mind. But it was fleeting. His mind quickly adjusted. The panic, the loss, the identity crisis—none of it seemed to matter anymore. This was who he was now. And he liked it.

"Nice," Jake said, slapping him on the back. "You look like a real man now."

Evan smiled—no, he smiled. It felt natural. "Yeah, I guess I do," he said, his voice deep and steady. It felt good to speak with authority. To feel... in control.

The transformation was complete. Evan Brooks was gone. In his place stood Blake Walker—a straight, athletic, cocky guy who loved playing sports, who reveled in his newfound masculinity, and who couldn’t care less about the political causes that had once consumed his life. It wasn’t that he hated them, he just… didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except the gym, his frat, and the weekend parties where he could show off his new look.

As he turned to join the group of jocks, he felt a thrill surge through him—a rush of excitement and belonging. It was easy to fall into the rhythm of this new life. The frat brothers cheered as he walked over to join them, already welcoming him into their fold.

Blake Walker didn’t think about who he used to be anymore. He didn’t care that the change was irreversible. He was happy now—at least, that’s what he told himself. And for the first time in his life, he truly believed it.

Blake Walker had fully embraced his new identity—muscular, confident, cocky—and with that, his political and personal beliefs had shifted drastically. In the span of a few short days, the liberal, progressive Evan Brooks he had once been seemed like a distant memory, a faded echo of someone else's life. He had no use for the old ideals of social justice, activism, or questioning societal norms. The world was simple now: men were strong, women were women, and life was about winning, not about understanding.

It was a Wednesday morning, a few days after the transformation, and Blake was sitting in the campus quad with a couple of his frat brothers. They were lounging on the grass, tossing a football back and forth, and discussing what to do with their upcoming weekend. The conversation quickly veered toward politics, as it often did after a few beers.

Blake wasn’t exactly sure why, but the more he listened, the more he found himself irritated by the mention of any "liberal" policies. One of the guys, Brett, was talking about how his sister was protesting for women’s rights, and the mention of "equal pay" set off a spark in Blake’s mind.

"Equal pay? You mean that whole 'pay gap' thing?" Blake scoffed, a smirk tugging at his lips. He shifted his weight, throwing the football up into the air with a quick flick of his wrist. "That's such a joke. Women have the same opportunities, and they don’t need to keep whining about it. If they worked harder, they’d get paid the same. It’s not about being a woman, it’s about performing."

The words slipped from his mouth with ease, and Blake didn’t even hesitate. His voice was full of conviction, the kind of boldness he’d seen in the more traditional, alpha guys who had molded him into who he was now. The frat brothers around him nodded in approval, some chuckling. "Exactly, dude," said Marcus. "I can’t stand the whole victim mentality. Like, the world doesn’t owe anyone anything. You have to earn it."

Blake grinned and slapped his hands together, feeling a rush of adrenaline as if he’d just made an important point. "Exactly! These people need to toughen up. The world’s not gonna hand them anything. They should be out there working, making their own way, not complaining about what they don’t have."

His words were met with approving nods. But deep down, a part of Blake felt a strange satisfaction in the way the conversation had shifted. The more he spoke, the more comfortable he became in his new skin. It was clear now—he wasn’t just another college student fumbling through his beliefs. He was a man—a man who understood the way the world worked, and he wasn’t going to apologize for it.

The conversation soon turned to the upcoming election. The group’s mood grew more animated as Brett began talking about a local politician who was pushing for "progressive" policies that Blake knew he couldn’t stand.

"You know, this guy keeps pushing for free healthcare and all this socialist crap," Brett said, his voice growing louder as he leaned in, clearly fired up. "It's like they want to turn the country into one big handout."

Blake’s blood boiled at the very mention of socialism. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. "Yeah, it’s unbelievable. People don’t seem to get that nothing in life is free. Someone’s gotta pay for it, and it’s always gonna be the hardworking people who get screwed over. You work hard, you get rewarded. You sit on your ass and wait for a handout, you're just part of the problem."

The words felt almost natural to Blake now. It was like he was channelling the very essence of the conservative mindset, and it felt good. The anger, the frustration at what he saw as a broken system—he had been living in that system, but now he understood. There was no place for weakness in the world he wanted. Only strength. Only the ability to succeed on your own terms.

The group around him nodded eagerly. Greg, another frat brother, grinned widely. "Hell yeah, man. You’re right. It’s the hardworking men who keep this country running. These liberals? They just want to hand everything to people who don’t deserve it."

Blake’s smile widened, a deep, satisfied chuckle bubbling up from his chest. "Exactly," he said again, his tone dripping with certainty. "It’s time we took the country back from these idiots. It’s time for real men to step up and start calling the shots."

It wasn’t just politics now. It was everything. Blake could feel the weight of his new beliefs settling into every corner of his life. Even the way he looked at people had changed. The nerds, the activists, the people who still talked about “equality” and “inclusivity”—he couldn’t fathom why he had ever cared about them. In his world, there was no place for weakness, no place for division. There was only strength, unity under a banner of tradition.

His classmates who had once talked about LGBTQ+ rights, feminism, environmental justice—they seemed so... irrelevant to him now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared about those issues. He didn’t want to. Why would he? He was a man now. A strong man. And that meant taking charge, not discussing issues that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. The things that mattered were simple: success, strength, and the preservation of the things that had always made America great.

Later that afternoon, as Blake and his frat brothers prepared to head to the gym, he couldn’t help but feel a rush of superiority over the other students on campus. He looked around at the other groups of people—the arts majors, the environmental activists, the overly polite, overly sensitive students—and couldn’t suppress the sneer that twisted his lips.

"Man, they’re just so soft," he muttered under his breath. "They wouldn’t last a day in the real world."

One of his frat brothers, Jake, grinned. "Yeah, dude. They wouldn’t even know what hit them."

Blake let out a low laugh. "Exactly. If they knew what it took to be a man—if they knew what real strength looked like—maybe they’d understand."

As he turned and walked toward the gym with his brothers, his dirty blonde hair catching the sunlight, Blake realized just how much he had changed. The old Evan would have never spoken like this, never thought this way. But Blake Walker? He was part of something bigger now—part of a brotherhood, a worldview, a system that prized strength above all else. And he knew that he would never go back.

His days of progressive politics and social justice were behind him, along with the nerdy, gay college student he had once been. The new Blake Walker was confident, straight, and unapologetically conservative. He had found his place in the world, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he truly belonged.

And that was all that mattered.

Blake Walker was becoming unrecognizable. Not just in the way he looked—though his new broad, muscular physique, complete with messy, slightly curly dirty blonde hair, was a far cry from the skinny, nerdy Evan Brooks he once was—but also in the way he thought. The change had been fast, but it had settled deep, like an invasive seed that had taken root in his mind. Blake felt comfortable now, in a way he hadn’t felt before.

He was a jock, an alpha. And to be an alpha, you had to project dominance. You had to push boundaries, show people you were the top dog.

It was Friday night, and Blake and his frat brothers were winding down from a grueling week of tests and workouts. They’d thrown a party at the house—loud music, red Solo cups stacked in corners, and girls swarming around the jocks in an attempt to be noticed. The air was thick with the smell of beer and testosterone. Blake leaned against the kitchen counter, one hand on his beer, the other hanging loosely at his side as he surveyed the room.

The conversation, like most of the night, revolved around two things: who was hooking up with who, and who was the "weakest" link on the football team.

Greg, a tall, lean guy with sharp features, was ranting about some kid in the engineering department who had the nerve to “act like he was better than everyone else.” Blake could already tell where the conversation was going.

"Dude, I swear, I was walking by the student union today and I see this nerd sitting there—one of those guys who's always talking about 'gender fluidity' and all that liberal crap." Greg laughed, shaking his head. "Like, what the hell is that even? You’re either a guy or a girl, dude. Stop trying to make yourself special."

Blake took a long sip of his beer, his lips curling into a half-smirk. He didn’t need to think about it—he knew exactly how to respond.

"I know, right?" Blake said, his voice dripping with that new, self-assured confidence. "It’s like they want attention or something. Just pick a side, dude. You can’t change your whole identity every week."

He threw back his head, laughing with his brothers as they all chimed in with their own jokes about the so-called "gender confusion" they saw in their classes. Blake’s tone was dismissive and casual. He didn’t even feel the need to elaborate. The fact that this kid was trying to “be different” was enough to trigger his distaste.

"I bet he’s just another attention-seeker," Brett added, with a grin. "I mean, dude’s probably just mad no one’s looking at him unless he says some dumb shit like that. Like, just be a normal guy. No one cares about your weird identity crisis."

Blake nodded approvingly, feeling a rush of satisfaction. He didn’t get it—he didn’t care to get it. Who had time for all that? In his world, being a guy was simple. You played sports, you lifted weights, you dated women, and you didn’t apologize for being a man.

"Exactly, man," Blake said, tossing his empty beer bottle into the recycling bin with a clink. "I don't know why people make things so complicated. If you’re a dude, then act like it. Don’t go around talking about all this 'fluid' crap and expect me to give a damn."

The frat boys around him cheered in agreement, their voices loud and drunk with entitlement. The women in the corner seemed to laugh along too, though Blake could tell they were mostly laughing because they had to. It was what the cool guys did, and if they didn’t want to be “excluded” from the circle, they had to pretend to be on the same wavelength.

Blake glanced at one of the girls nearby, a sophomore who had been flirting with him for the past hour. She caught his eye and smiled, a little too brightly. He offered a quick, cocky grin before taking another sip of beer.

"Man, I swear," Greg continued, "people like that are just looking for an excuse to cry about everything. They wanna be all ‘sensitive,’ but life’s not like that. You want respect? Earn it. You don’t get to cry about your ‘identity’ and expect the world to change for you."

Blake couldn’t help but agree. His mind had changed so drastically from the Evan he used to be. The Evan who was afraid of offending anyone, who stood up for people’s rights no matter how difficult the argument. That guy was gone, replaced by Blake, a guy who didn’t just accept things the way they were, but demanded them to stay the way he liked.

"Exactly," Blake said again, this time with a bit more edge. He wasn’t even sure what had happened to him. The old Evan might have felt guilty, might have been conflicted over what he was hearing, but Blake? Blake felt nothing but clarity. "These people think they deserve special treatment just because they’re different. Like, no one owes you shit for being ‘unique.’"

The guys laughed again, but now it was a little more sinister. They were pushing boundaries, making the atmosphere more charged than it should’ve been. Someone mentioned a rumor about a student from another fraternity who had come out as bisexual, and that seemed to set Blake off.

"Ugh, I heard about that dude," Marcus chimed in. "Some guy in the next frat came out as bi, and now he’s all about being ‘proud.’ It’s like, bro, just shut up. Who cares? I’m not gonna sit here and listen to some dude talk about his ‘struggles’ with his sexuality."

Blake’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he stared at Marcus for a moment. He couldn’t help it; he was getting agitated. "Exactly, man. Just keep it to yourself. Nobody needs to know about your ‘struggles’ or whatever. It's not like being gay or bi is some big revelation." He felt a sense of superiority creeping in. "Just stop trying to force it on everyone. The world doesn’t revolve around your sex life."

There was an uncomfortable silence as the conversation shifted, but the damage had been done. The guys had made their stance clear—they didn’t have time for “weak” people, and they certainly didn’t have time for anyone who didn’t fit into their idea of what was normal. Blake wasn’t even sure why it bothered him so much that people were “out there” being different—he just knew that it didn’t sit right with him anymore.

He glanced over at the girl still lingering by the corner. She was staring at him, her smile a little less enthusiastic than before. Blake felt a flicker of unease—an old Evan-like twinge of guilt—but it passed quickly, like a fleeting thought.

"Yeah," Blake said again, feeling like he had the last word on the subject, as if it settled everything. "Just be a man or don’t bother. The world doesn’t need more confusion."

The frat brothers all agreed, and Blake let out a breath. For the first time, he felt like he could finally relax. He had his brothers, his strength, his new identity—and that was all he needed.

The rest of the night passed with more jokes, more trash talk, and a general atmosphere of “being a man” that felt intoxicating. Blake didn’t think about it much. He didn’t need to. He was on top of the world now, and anything that threatened that world—anything that threatened his new identity—just didn’t belong.

And Blake was more than happy to let them know that.

Blake Walker had fully embraced his new life. The frat, the muscles, the confidence—he was a man now, and everything felt easy. But with that confidence came something even more exciting to him: Stacy.

Stacy wasn’t just any girl. She was the quintessential “valley girl”—the kind of blonde, perky, ditzy sorority girl that every guy in the frat would have killed to date. But Blake? He wasn’t like the other guys. He deserved Stacy. She was exactly what he needed to match his new identity.

It was Friday afternoon, and Blake was lounging on the frat house’s back patio, having just finished another grueling workout at the gym. He was wearing a tight, white tank top that showed off his impressive biceps, his signature messy dirty blonde curls falling over his forehead in just the right way. As he cracked open a bottle of water, his phone buzzed with a text from Stacy. He grinned to himself as he read it:

"Hey babe, totes wanna meet at Starbucks for a little pick-me-up before our dinner tonight! 💅💖"

Blake rolled his eyes, but in the way that made him smile. He’d been seeing Stacy for a few weeks now, and while she was everything he shouldn’t want—a little airhead who lived for shopping, Instagram, and the latest gossip about "who’s dating who"—there was something about her that he loved.

"Sounds good, babe. I'll pick you up in 20."

He shot off a quick reply before tossing his phone down on the table, feeling the usual rush of excitement that came with hanging out with Stacy. She wasn’t just pretty—she was fun. And for Blake, that was all that mattered now. They were a perfect match: his strength and confidence, her bubbly, ditzy energy.

When Blake pulled up to the Starbucks parking lot, he spotted Stacy immediately. She was standing outside, balancing on high heels, looking like she had just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Her platinum blonde hair was perfectly curled, and her pink crop top clung to her body, showing off her toned stomach. She waved excitedly when she saw him, a wide grin on her face.

"Babe, like, oh my god!" Stacy squealed, rushing up to him. "I totes missed you! I was, like, just texting my girls about that new hot guy in the bio class. Like, he is SO cute, you have NO idea."

Blake chuckled, reaching out to pull her into a hug, his muscles flexing as he enveloped her tiny frame. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her words, but it didn’t bother him. Not anymore. Stacy was just... Stacy.

"I bet he's not as hot as me," Blake teased, a cocky grin spreading across his face.

"Like, NO way!" Stacy giggled, pressing her lips to his cheek before pulling back to look him up and down, clearly admiring the view. "You are, like, totally the hottest guy I know. You’re, like, so perfect, it’s unreal."

Blake smirked, loving the compliment. He felt invincible, like he was untouchable.

"I know," he said, his tone oozing confidence. "I work hard for it, babe."

They walked inside Starbucks together, Stacy chattering non-stop about everything she had done that week, her voice high-pitched and almost like a sing-song. Blake didn’t really listen to the details—he never did—but it didn’t matter. Stacy wasn’t saying anything of importance, just the usual girly stuff, and for Blake, that was exactly how he liked it.

"So, like, I heard that Brad from Kappa Chi totally hooked up with Jenny from Accounting last night?" Stacy went on, her eyes wide with excitement as she leaned in. "And like, she was wearing this totally amazing dress, but I, like, can't even imagine how they, like, did it in the back of a cab. That's SO ghetto, right?"

Blake smirked and leaned against the counter, pretending to listen. He was starting to feel like a real man now—someone who had it all. A hot girl, a killer body, and a world that was bending to his will. It was a far cry from the shy, nerdy Evan who used to spend hours arguing with people about the importance of social justice and LGBTQ+ rights.

"I dunno, babe," Blake shrugged, his voice low and deep. "I don’t really care about that kind of stuff. I got everything I need right here." He gestured to himself and then to her, giving her a wink.

Stacy laughed, throwing her head back. "Like, OMG, you’re such a bad boy," she said, practically swooning. "I totes love it when you, like, act all confident."

Blake’s chest swelled with pride. This was the life. No more thinking about the struggles of the world or trying to please everyone. Stacy didn’t care about his past. She didn’t care about the "old Evan." She liked Blake, the confident, strong jock who didn’t have time for politics, social causes, or even, it seemed, deep conversation. Stacy wanted someone who made her feel good—and that was exactly what Blake was giving her.

"Yeah, babe," Blake said, his voice dropping into that deeper, more commanding tone he’d learned to use. "You like that, huh?"

Stacy giggled, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "Totes! You’re, like, the perfect boyfriend. I’m, like, so lucky to have you. You're, like, sooo much hotter than all those other guys at the gym. They don’t even have, like, a clue."

Blake’s lips curled into a smug smile. "I know, babe," he said again, taking the coffee she’d ordered and handing it to her. "But it’s not just the looks. It’s about who you are. And I’m one of a kind."

Stacy laughed, nodding enthusiastically. "Like, I KNOW, right?! You’re, like, totally the best."

As they left Starbucks, walking hand-in-hand toward his car, Blake couldn’t help but feel a rush of pride. He didn’t just have the looks, the body, or the confidence—he had Stacy, the perfect "girlfriend" for his new life. She was everything that fit into his new worldview: pretty, ditzy, and obsessed with appearances. And Blake was okay with that. He didn’t need anything else.

They got in the car, and Blake started the engine, glancing over at Stacy, who was already texting someone on her phone, probably telling her friends how amazing her boyfriend was.

As he drove through the campus, past the other students, Blake couldn’t help but feel like the world was at his feet. His life had become simple, uncomplicated, and perfect in its own, jock-ified way. There was no more questioning his identity. There was no more confusion about who he was. He was Blake Walker—the strong, straight, conservative man who had everything he wanted, including the perfect girlfriend.

And nothing was ever going to stand in his way.

[hxyleswritesthings]

Alpha!Katsuki and Omega!OC

They're the couple that you look at and you just KNOW they're having freaky good sex 😇

Minors DNI

Katsuki’s omega who growls in his face at a party after he asks her to get off his lap so he could stand. She's full on straddling him now, knees pressed to each side of his thick thighs as she bares her fangs at her alpha.

“Hah?” He cocks his head as he meets her eyes, “I'll be right back, you territorial woman.”

Katsuki grins when she growls again at him, her demeanor tugging on his alpha to the forefront of his mind. “That's cute, little Omega, but don't forget who you belong to.” He lets out a growl of his own, the guttural sound making the other alphas in the room tense. Deku, the head alpha of their pack, finds himself sitting up in an effort to keep a close eye on the interaction, knowing nothing was wrong but his more primal side itching to be on watch.

Now most Omegas would cower at his tone, but not her. His stubborn girl was used to his attitude, and knew how to give it right back. Katsuki believed his omega was nothing short of his equal, but the two of them loved a power play. He sometimes feigned annoyance at her antics, but they both knew that he loved how strong and outspoken she was. He loved his Omega's attitude, and he especially loved that she chose to allow him to put her back in place. Because that's what it always was, a choice. A personal game between the two of them. His girl quickly learned that goading his alpha out was the quickest way to get exactly what she wanted in the moment.

“You're full of disrespect today, Omega.” Katsuki tuts, completely aware of the shift in the room as he noticed her scent turn sweeter, the arousal evident in her body language as she shifts so that she's resting right where she wants him.

“And what about it, alpha?” She's murmuring in a challenge, cocking her head as they stare each other down.

Katsuki sucks in a breath as he feels his cock stir right where she's sitting. He grips her waist in his large hands, sitting up to meet her halfway so that their lips rely brush as he speaks.

“Run.”

It comes out as a whisper, the tension in the air snapping almost instantaneously as his omega jumps up. She's unable to help the goofy grin on her face, navigating her way through their pack that had been hanging out in the living room. Katsuki’s hot on her heels, shoving todoroki out of his way before he's chasing her up the stairs.

“That make anyone else flustered?” Denki pipes up at the same time Kirishima speaks, “Yeah, they're definitely gonna be up there for a while.”

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Hey, Frost! Congratulations on reaching 200 followers!!

This is Carol (@clonethirstingisreal), just asking on anon rather than my main account.

For my request, I was wondering about a fic focusing on Hunter & Omega with a father & daughter vibe (or just siblings is fine too.) I really don't have anything specific in mind. It could be after everyone (including Tech) is living safe on Pabu. Maybe Hunter comforting Omega about something...or vice versa. I don't know...sorry! If you need more to go on, let me know. I'm blanking...

Thanks!

New Night Routines [Hunter and Omega Family Fic]

Warnings and Information: Officially settling into island life after everything they’ve been through since the emergence of the Empire will take time, Hunter knows that. Patience is paramount in times like these, and the people of Pabu’s limitless generosity and neighborly nature make light work of helping all six members of Clone Force 99 lay down roots. Now, the biggest battle for him, his brothers, and Omega is getting a good night’s sleep.  TBB AU where everyone gets to live happily ever after. Reference and allusion to canon-typical injury and violence. Mainly fluff and feel-good family moments. Minimal Star Wars and real-world swearing. Limited Mando’a. Fictional sea creatures. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. 

Word count: 4,020

When the decision had been made to carve out a comfortable life for themselves at long last, Shep Hazard was all too happy to provide the Batch with a proper Pabuan house. He’d been insisting upon it for some time now, but the offer had always been turned down, saying the same thing each occasion.

“There’s still a lot to sort out. We need more time to come to a proper decision.”

They had the Empire to contend with. Brothers to help. Sowing the seeds of a growing rebellion.

So when the time finally came, Hunter was thrilled to take Shep up on the next offer. No more living on the run. No more sleeping and living out of the attack shuttle. They would have a safe roof to sleep under, and a steady supply of surf and sun to fill their days. The island community came together when news broke that they were here to stay, rolling up their sleeves to repay a multitude of favors from repairing Lower Pabu following the last sea surge. 

Without the whip-smart fishermen, rewiring the house would have taken Tech many long weeks of steady work in order to bring everything up to his standards on his own. 

Wrecker had the help of the community’s woodworkers in replacing anything suffering from wood rot and constructing newer, sturdier furniture. 

Artists pooled themselves together and slung paint in every room of the house under Crosshair’s watchful eye; by lunch every room had been given a base coat, and by dinner, detail-work began once it was agreed who slept where, giving those spaces tailored touches. 

Echo, though he would often be away assisting Captain Rex and the Clone rebellion, found ways to contribute to construction, incorporating hidden compartments and caches in their eventual living space for safekeeping their old armor and weaponry. 

Omega had grand plans to decorate not just the room she had all to herself, but the whole of the house all on her own if Hunter didn’t insist upon helping between his own odd jobs. The prospect of having more than just the barest of bare essentials, but now the ‘basics’ was entirely thrilling to Omega, and perhaps more than a little overwhelming at times for Hunter. 

There’s just so much… stuff.

Blankets and pillows had been small familiarities with the GAR, but patterned bedding and special linens? Decorative pillows? Was that all really necessary?

Maybe not to him, but making sure Omega felt like an equal contributor to putting together their home meant entertaining her enthusiasm in other ways when there were no tasks suitable for her to assist with. If there were heavy shelves to hang, Hunter helped her find the best baskets offered by the island’s artisans to use for storage. When the sturdier bed frames were carefully squeezed into the house, he went with Omega on a walk to collect the blankets that had been set aside for them by the many fibercraft artists. 

And every evening after dinner, Hunter promised to do whatever she wanted for an hour to reward her for being so patient throughout all of this. Occasionally, one hour often bled into two, sometimes three before both would be thoroughly worn out and ready to turn in for the night. 

Sometimes she wanted to sit under the weeping maya tree, gazing at the star-crusted indigo skies together. Other nights, Omega wanted to roam the Archium and proudly show off all she had learned from Phee, or Layana, or Tech about each of the valuable items stored here. They’ve crawled through several of the island’s coves in the growing twilight, collecting enough sea glass that Phee offered to find a jeweler who could turn the frosted fragments into beautiful sun-catchers for them. 

Enjoying this nightly routine with her, Hunter considered making this a weekly thing once the house had been finished, which wouldn’t be much longer now. While he and his vode were accustomed to sleeping in the Havoc Marauder during the Clone Wars, he was growing tired of it long term. 

Maker, he couldn’t wait to get into that house. 

As hard as it could be to accept, her brothers knew Omega wouldn’t stay little forever. She was a growing girl who needed more room to grow, to decide what kind of life to make for herself, to simply live. And a gunner’s mount was no place for any of that. 

Laying down roots on Pabu would be good for her. 

For all of them. 

After two weeks of continuous construction and regular after-dark adventures, the morning finally came that the Batch’s new house would be complete by lunch time. Perhaps even before, depending on how many members of this selfless community came together to help the vode furnish each room. 

Omega woke shortly before dawn, too excited to sleep, or think about trying. 

Hunter found himself roused from a comfortable slumber by a bright-eyed pre-teen, her pale, curly hair an adorably bedraggled mess as she gingerly shook his arm. 

“Hunter. Hunter!”

Crosshair, ever the light sleeper, began to stir in the bunk across from Hunter’s just as the other began to sit up and work feeling into his limbs. They had all promised her long ago that if she ever needed anything, and they meant anything, from one of them for any reason, she never had a reason to hesitate waking her brothers.

“What’s wrong?” 

Hunter tugged the blanket over the sniper’s head, chuckling warmly. “Go back to sleep, Cross. I’ve got it handled.” He didn’t even know what it was, but it didn’t matter. By nature of his engineering and training, Hunter had a life’s worth of experience in waking up suddenly and quickly. Alert in just a short time, he came up with something to do to let the others get as much sleep as they could while tugging on his boots. 

“Think we can find something new in our favorite tide pools that Tech hasn’t seen before?”

It should be enough to keep them occupied for an hour or two before joining the others in putting the finishing touches on the house. 

Omega nodded, enthusiastic and eager. 

“Atta girl.” 

Hunter ruffled her hair before sending her up to the cockpit to collect the beach bag Lyana had gifted her. This would give him more than enough time to shimmy out of the shirt he slept in and into something different. Once dressed, he rounded up a few more things around the Marauder he thought they might want - a drybag for when Omega inevitably wanted to splash her feet in the water, the datapad she used for her studies, and laid a change of clothing out for each of them at the foot of his bunk. Just in case. 

They met at the gangplank, Hunter keying in the appropriate sequence to lower the ramp. 

“All set, Havoc Five?”

Omega grinned, giddy and full of energy. “Ready, Havoc One!”

“Good,” Hunter returned the smile with one of his own. “Race you down to the water, then?” 

Scuttling down the ramp together, Omega tore off in a burst of gleeful giggles, Hunter close behind. 

Having been on the run for so long, living hand-to-mouth and facing peril after peril with the bravest of faces, Omega had begun laughing less and less. As their arrangement with Cid crawled to a boiling point, tempers flaring in the backroom of the Parlor, Bolo and Ketch found less and less success in making the adolescent laugh. After their treacherous ordeal on Ipsidon was met with complete apathy, it wasn’t much longer that the Batch parted ways with the Trandoshan without so much as a word. 

Phee selflessly sharing her safe haven had given Omega back her laugh. 

Pabu and the generosity of her people were giving Omega a chance at a normal life, with normal experiences. Making friends her own age exposed her to many new things. When Lyana and other girls their age invited her to her first sleepover, Tech helped her prepare for it the day before with research and reassurance. 

“If, in the event you miss us, just remember that you have Lula. She’s been with the team for a long time. She’ll help you be brave, Omega.” 

It wouldn’t be beloved tooka dolls alone that brought Omega her new-found bravery here in Pabu’s safe harbor. It would be her brothers, too. 

Patiently learning to act less like a team, and more like a family, they were navigating this new life together. Hunter would certainly never take this for granted after everything the Batch had been through to get to this point. 

Just as Omega claimed she was going to reach the beach first, Hunter would catch up in a burst of speed and swoop his sister into his arms. Both of them would reach the beach at the same time this way. The laughter shared between them felt good. Freeing. Racing down to the water without a care in the galaxy, still new and novel to each of them, would become a memory more valuable than any vault of credits he could ever imagine. 

He had wanted that kind of life, once. As a cadet, likely younger than Omega had been when they first met, the prospect of living lavishly with his rowdy band of brothers after the war had been among the grandest dreams. A distraction, really, from the growing pains that plagued him and the endless hours of rigorous training, testing and tweaking of his enhancements. 

Now, settling into an easy life from the Imperial forces that poisoned a predator with fear and slowly turned him into prey was his dream. A dream free of being faced with situations so dire and desperate he would be forced to gnaw off a part of himself to escape, or keep Omega safe. 

Safe to create new routines of poking about the deeper tide pools for shells and strange, quad-eyed crustaceans with her brothers, her family. 

“Look at this one!” 

Omega carefully plucks a large crab out of the saltwater pool, keeping her hands behind its largest claw. She holds it out to Hunter, showing it off like a trophy with the proudest of smiles that she could catch one. They were often lightning-fast, scuttling down to the surf in a flash. Crosshair had figured out how to catch them to make it less challenging for Tech to study them, but not without several pinched fingers, first. 

Once he’d mastered the technique, Cross taught it to Omega and encouraged her to show Hunter the next time he and Omega went down to the cove for their after-dark adventures. (Probably in hopes of scaring the hell out of Hunter, the little shit.) Crosshair had always been talented at finding ways to catch things that didn’t like being caught. It had been a useful pastime during the war. 

“Looks very nice.” Hunter said, verbally applauding her accomplishment. “Can you tell what it is, Megs?”

“This is a false flotsam crab!” she declared, indicating the lack of splinter-like spikes lining the smallest claw. 

Hunter had to stifle a chuckle over how much she sounded and acted like their bespectacled brother. After the sea surge, they had seen a lot of flotsam crabs and the pretenders in the wreckage of Lower Pabu. Upon identifying them, Tech declared both species were perfectly edible - though they would want more of the flotsam crabs than the false ones - and basketfuls of these crabs were collected. People may have lost their homes, but there would be enough food to prevent anyone from going hungry. 

It was like the sea’s way of apologizing. 

It was also the first time the Batch had seen the scale of Pabu’s generosity, and resilience. No wonder they had fled the Empire and come to Pabu; these were good people. Good people who were helping him give his sister a good life. 

Omega brought the false flotsam closer to her brother, holding it out to him.

“Do you want to hold it?” 

Hunter shook his head, smiling. “That’s okay. Maybe another time, Omega.” There would be plenty of chances to catch crabs in the future. Endless opportunities to splash in the cool coastal waters, and bask in the salt-laden breeze and island sun. 

Placing the cranky creature back in the water, Omega returns to the task of finding something new to show Tech before they return to the others, where together, they’ll make their house a proper home. 

When the sun has risen high enough, Omega leads the way to their new house, a large shell clutched tightly in her hands. Wearing her pack, Hunter follows behind, listening to her excited babbling of all the things she thinks her prize find could be. 

Found further down the beach by his sister, it had recently washed ashore, glimmering in the young sunlight of dawn the way Hunter had heard rumors of the appearance of kyber. Opalescent, clearer than ice. Some surfaces were smooth to the touch. Others, jagged and unpleasant. It was unlike anything the siblings had seen before. 

Omega called out their return the closer they were to the house. 

“Tech! Look what we found!” 

Hunter thought ‘we’ was being generous, but he did nothing to correct her. Tech, putting away his tools, takes the shell and examines it for all of ten seconds before announcing what they found. “Another glacial turban. That’s a rather remarkable specimen, Omega.” Omega pouts in disappointment to hear that they did not find something new, but it is soon forgotten as Tech spurs her youthful curiosity with a simple question. 

“Would you like to know what makes it so remarkable?”

“Yes!”

He asks her to wait there while he ducks inside a moment, collecting his datapad, most likely. When Tech returns, he has a second shell in hand rather than his trusty technology. “This is also a glacial turban.” he explains, kneeling beside her. Comparing the two together, he shows her how the first shell has far more opalescence and clarity than the other, and the color is stronger. 

Textbook perfect, he calls it. 

The others have crowded around to see, only opting to hold it once Omega says it’s okay. “S’beautiful, kid,” Wrecker says, carefully turning the turban over in his hands, “A real keeper!” Once he’s had a good look, the turban is passed to Echo, and the ARC trooper says the shell’s a real stunner. Crosshair says nothing, but the way he smiles as he studies the way the light warps and shifts on the surface explains more than enough. 

A teasing smile works its way free when Omega takes the shell back from him. 

“So? Do you like it?”

“Can’t get any better than textbook perfect, I suppose.” he replies, smiling wryly around a toothpick. 

Hunter lays a hand on one of Omega’s shoulders, looking down at her with a soft smile. “Sounds like we should find a special spot for you to show it off, then, Megs.” Now, looking up at his brothers, Hunter says the three words they had become very familiar with before all hell broke loose, once upon a time.

“You boys ready?”

Many hands make light work. Taking it room by room, they lay down rugs, make the beds and fluff up the pillows, and wrestle furniture into place. It would go a lot quicker if there was less fooling around, but making these new memories on what will soon be their first official day in a new house trumps efficiency. 

Phee drops in around mid-morning to check on their progress, finding the six of them piled on the floor, taking a short break in Tech and Wrecker’s room. “Getting tired? Neighbors have said you guys sound like you’ve been having a great time for several hours now.” Arms folded loosely against her chest, their friend is all smiles as Phee gives her report.

Tech adjusts his goggles before he replies. “Decorating a domicile has been more fun than I anticipated.”

Omega’s room is left for last out of the bedrooms, and every item within is a testament of love the people in her life had for her.

They started with the gifts from Phee and Lyana first. The sea glass sun-catcher was hung in a corner of the window, and a soft moon-yo toy was added beside Lula and her trooper doll on the bed. Next, each brother helped Omega fit his contribution to the room in only the most perfect places. 

The traditional telescope Crosshair had found and restored was tucked by the window, alongside other tools for stargazing. The bed frame that Wrecker had worked on longest of all was well worth the splinters when Omega lovingly awed over each embellishment that had been added by hand. The beaded curtains hung around her bed had been fashioned by Echo, worked on each night after she had gone to sleep. Tech gifted her a small set of shelves to display the special specimens she had collected in their travels. And adorning the bed laid the quilt Hunter had commissioned from one of Pabu’s reclusive-yet-crafty artisans, combining the common gray and red tones of Clone Force 99’s armor with the brighter hues found in Omega’s favorite colors. 

In spite of her excitement over her first proper bed since Kamino, Omega avoided climbing on it for fear of getting sand in the freshly-laundered sheets. Besides, they still had parts of the house to finish, chiefly the kitchen and living area, and Omega didn’t want them to lose the current momentum. If they wanted to have things finished by lunch, then they had less than an hour to do it. 

She would have the chance to find out just how comfortable the sleeping arrangements would prove at bedtime. 

Since the two of them had gone down to the beach before dawn, Hunter and Omega opted not to do a part of their nightly routine in favor of making their first night in a proper house an early one. Instead, they stayed with the rest of the Batch, playing a few short rounds of Sabbac or doing other things while waiting on their turn to shower. 

Wrecker would kindly offer to help Omega finish getting ready for bed while Hunter had his turn, but she declined. Her answer was less surprising than she might have expected; Hunter was already halfway to the refresher to get the water going before she had the chance to finish.

“I wanted to ask Tech to help me organize my specimens while waiting for Hunter…”

In good humor, Wrecker chuckles warmly before offering his sister’s hair a careful ruffle. 

“Alrigh’, ad’ika.” 

Ordinarily, Hunter never took long to wash up, but tonight he dawdled a bit more than usual to give Omega and Tech the opportunity to make decent progress. By the time he had dried, dressed, and detangled most of his hair from itself, he found the two of them sitting in the middle of Omega’s room. 

She had changed into a fresh pair of brushed-cotton sleepwear at some point, and was now allowing Tech to finish her haircare for the night. Joining this rather sweet scene, Hunter waits by Omega’s bed, quietly listening as they talk over her collection. Tech, kneeling behind her, is mostly focused on the instructions he is reading over her shoulder on how to start taking better care of the hair-type they have inherited from Jango Fett, the Clone template. 

“This appears to be mostly in chronological order, now. But a few items appear to be… missing.”

“I think some of them are still in your footlockers.” Omega replies, patiently enduring an unpleasant tug from the brush as Tech finds a rather stubborn knot. 

Promising to help her take care of getting the missing items in the morning, Tech asks Hunter to carefully set everything aside on the desk for the time being while he finishes up. He obliges his brother’s request, working quickly as both of them can see how drowsy she’s becoming. Being up before dawn will do that. Once he’s finished, Hunter lifts Omega from the floor, carrying her to bed.  

“C’mere, Megs. Bedtime.” 

He tucks her in, pulling the quilt up to her shoulder after making sure Lula is secure in Omega’s arms. It shouldn’t be long before she’s asleep, so Hunter and Tech don’t linger longer than it takes to say goodnight and shut off the light. 

“Jate ca, Omega.”

There’s little more than a sleepy hum in response. She is well and truly tuckered out. 

Omega sleeps soundly for about an hour before being stirred awake by something outside her window. It’s nothing more than playful moon-yo chatter outside, thankfully. Once they scamper off, she settles back down, but something feels… off. Not necessarily the room itself, but how quiet it is. After living on the run for so long, little more than a curtain between her and her brothers, the utter silence of the room is uncomfortable. Unsure what else to do about failing to fall asleep, Omega climbs carefully out of bed, and slips down to her brothers’ room. 

Hunter stirs before she’s gotten farther than the foot of his bed, waking easily with his keen sense of hearing. “What’s the matter, Megs?” His voice, low and sleepy, is partially muffled by his pillow before sitting up to address the situation. 

“It’s… it’s too quiet to fall back asleep. It’s making me feel uneasy.” she admits in a whisper, squeezing one of Lula’s paws to try to soothe herself. 

“... too quiet?” 

Hunter furrows his brow, wondering why a room being too quiet would make it hard to sleep when you’re sharing a room with someone. Then he remembers that she’s not sharing a room with anyone. She’s been given her own room, and she’s likely not used to being by herself anymore. Of course. All of them, for one reason or another, had forgotten to consider what might happen when she would be sleeping on her own for these new night routines… 

That was their fault, his fault, more than her’s. 

“C’mere, ad’ika. I have an idea.” 

Pillow under one arm and Omega in the other, he carries her back to her bedroom, giving her a choice. “Until we can find a sound machine to help you sleep, I’ll stay with you to help you get used to your room. Now, where do you want me to sleep?” Unsurprisingly, Omega quickly makes space so he can share both her bed and new quilt.

As she pulled it over them, she noticed the backing wasn’t just any old material. Her brothers had taken portions of their old bodysuits, carefully washing the material before donating these pieces to the blanket. Designs dear to them had been stitched in contrasting thread so she would know who particular patches came from. 

In the dark, fingers traced out the words “We’ll always have your back” at the very top of the blanket. The artisan’s neat work made her brothers’ collective loyalty and a promise all the more tangible.

As Hunter lay next to her, it wasn’t long before she was able to settle down again. Holding her close, he listened as her breathing evened out, eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Omega would be asleep before long, but not before she had one last thing to say. 

“Thank you, Hunter…”

“You’re welcome, Omega. Sweet dreams.”

Once she had drifted off, tucking her head under her brother’s chin, Hunter would carefully lay a kiss in the crown of her hair, bidding her to sleep well for the rest of the night. He listened to her for a while longer, quietly grateful that this instance of being unable to sleep was so easy to remedy. Grateful too, in a sense, that that was now among their biggest battles. 

Until their roots were firmer, settling down on Pabu would have a few growing pains. Adapting to change could be hard. Adjusting to new routines could be hard, too. 

But they didn’t have to be, so long as the Batch had each other’s backs.

Thank you for making such a sweet request for this little event Carol. I tried to include most of your ideas without rambling too too much, haha. I hope you enjoyed it! 🩷 (And apologies if the pacing feels a bit "off" in places as things were cut for brevity!)

Fic taglist: @anxiouspineapple99 @dukeoftheblackstar @dystopicjumpsuit @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636

[Masterlist] [TBB Masterlist] [Taglist] [Requests: OPEN]

[yuwuta]

Is megs an alpha or omgea to you? Son of toji and gojo would equal in an alpha kid but gojo also fits the omega vibe soo well. I also like the idea of megs having a nest and bringing you to it. Not letting you go <3 covering you in his scent, doesn't stop even after you're all doppy and completely out of it <33

Any hc on what this nest would look like?

Honestly, I can see him as either alpha, beta, or omega, he’s just a little bratty and reluctant to admit he likes attention no matter what lolll. As an alpha, he doesn’t really care for the status that comes with it, he doesn’t intend to lead a pack, or be dominant in any sense of the word. He just happens to be an alpha, and sometimes it comes in handy; warding off touchy strangers, intimidating. But, he can admit that he does like when you cuddle up to him, when you seek him out for comfort, when you hang off of his arm and don’t let go.

Omega also suits him because, again, he doesn’t really… care LOL. He’s pretty though, so the attention he gets pisses him off sometimes, he hates that other alphas assume he wants or needs them, but his prickly attitude comes in handy. He tries to be conscious to not publicly fall into any of the omega stereotypes, but at the end of the day, it’s part of who he is, even if he doesn’t want to admit it; and sure, he’s not the kinda person to throw himself into the nearest person for the sake of comfort, but there are always little signs. Wears hoodies that are a little too big for him so he can sink into the comfort of the extra fabric, lays his head on your lap, drapes his body over yours more often just to feel you against him and rest his chin on your shoulder, sprays your perfume on his shirts… he can be sooooo cute, but if you mention that he’s doing any of this, he denies it and pouts a little, but goes right back to it anyway.

He’s very deliberate and sort of sneaky about building his nest. He’ll buy Yuuji that new sweater he saw in a store and tell him he should try it out, wear it for a few days to make sure it fits. When Nobara is nagging him about how to accessorize her outfits, he feigns disinterest, nonchalantly telling her she needs more bracelets, or maybe a necklace. He’ll wrap you up in blankets, and even if you tell him you’re not cold, he’ll insist you use it. Remind you to wear an apron when you’re cooking, even though you’re only making a simple pasta dish. Give you his jacket even though it’s not that cold outside.

And then, when the time is just right, he collects all of the items, and makes his nest and it’s almost perfect, all he needs now is to put you in it and have the sheets smell like you, and the room smell like you, and make you smell like him <3 it does make you very loopy, it’s overwhelming; Megumi has planted everything perfectly, has made sure he has the perfect ratio of scents to keep him calm, and comforted, and collected, but it’s too much for you, but that’s okay, that’s why he’s there <3 to keep you under him and covered in him and keep his nose in your neck and keep you and nice and warm in bed until he heeds to let you go 

[saxandviolins77]

About Bonecrusher—I feel that this is one of the more mysterious Constructicons since he doesn’t talk much. From looking back at the cartoon, I felt that the small bits of dialogue he had in “The Secret of Omega Supreme” and “The Autobot Run” suggest he is competent and smart, and like every Constructicon other than Long Haul, he DID act as mission leader at one point in the G1 comics (US #41) yet his Dreamwave bio suggests he’s not very intelligent. I think one approach might be to conclude that he is smart, but people assume he’s not due to stereotypes and the fact that he won’t verbally correct these misconceptions. More meathead Decepticons aren’t needed. That being said, recently I’ve considered the idea that maybe Bonecrusher could be dissatisfied with how Scrapper is the only Constructicon Hook secretly admires according to bios? Hook has yelled at everybody though not BC to my knowledge, I don’t think he takes any issue with BC’s skill level, but I wonder if BC could be unhappy with just being viewed as a fun equal to hang out with and not someone to look up to. Although who knows, maybe BC just needs to show off more.

YES! That's how I see it and portray it!

He sits and observes instead of making a big deal about himself; that goes for everything. So what if people think he's not intelligent? He knows himself, and as long as they don't bother him, he'll stay in his own lane. (Maaaaybe he gets a little bothered by ppl misreading him as a brainless brute, but feeling hurt is showing weakness, and he doesn't do that).

Honestly, I don't think Bonecrusher cares about what Hook thinks, bro. Like, as long as Hook acknowledges his skill and smarts, it's fine; he doesn't need his admiration.

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Crosshair and Omega's dynamic

Spoilers for episode 4

Out of all of Omega's relationships with the Batch, I have to say my favorite is the one with Crosshair (and it's not because I'm biased towards him). Even though they only had like two full episodes to work off each other, they do it so well. It's peak sibling relationship. But why I think it works so well is because of how they work off each other. In my eyes, Omega and Cross see each other as equals or at least on similar levels. This is evident with how they guide each other when fleeing from the Empire. There's no clear leader between them, the pair listen to each other depending on the situation.

Crosshair's skills are basically fighting and playing lookout. Both are very handy to have. Whenever a fight breaks out, Omega lets Crosshair take the lead and he works to protect her and himself. That's not to say Omega can't hold her own, but when the going gets tough, the tough get going (credit Lion King 2 for that cheesy line). Cross also takes a natural protective stance around her. While she does the technical stuff, he keeps watch. He might say it isn't part of his skill set, but believe me, it is.

Then, we have Omega. She's much better at hustling and seeking alternative ways to get things done. It's true that blaster fire will draw more attention to one's self. Thus, Crosshair lets her guide him in situations where they need to be more low-profile. Omega is also better with social situations imo. She's a smart kid who learned a lot from her other brothers and Cid. I love that the show gives both characters to exercise their unique skill set while not undermining the other.

The other reason why I love their relationship so much is because of how it's changed Crosshair. In the months that he and Omega have been imprisoned, he's truly grown to care for and respect her. First off, he uses her name. The only other people he does that with is Hunter and Wrecker. Secondly, he follows her lead with almost no question. He does complain and make comments. BUT, he still follows her. Crosshair in season 1 mocked Hunter for listening to Omega. Little did he know that he would follow her over 6 months later (yes, I did the math).

And then there's the emotional piece of it. Crosshair is so open with Omega in his body language, facial expressions, and words. She brings out the best side of him and I am here for it. Compare that to when we first meet him in Clone Wars. He's quiet, hangs back, and usually wears a stern look on his face. Now look at him with Omega. He's much more talkative. His face emits so much emotion from being fed up to genuine concern. There is no doubt in my mind that he loves Omega. He encourages her and openly voices his concerns. I myself struggle with opening up to others about certain except for a few people. Seeing Crosshair opening to someone who he feels comfortable with is truly beautiful and heartwarming. Between Mayday and Omega, you can see just how much Crosshair has changed.

Finally, the imperial officer casually calling Crosshair Omega's dad and her not saying anything proves that Crossdad is real. It's so on the nose, but it's so obvious that Crosshair cares for her and is good at keeping her safe.

[hamcatspamacc]

Not putting this on main but have some Dndads S1 actor au ideas/headcannons in these trying times! They all just headcannons so I would love to hear other interpretations or ideas that you might have!

Might draw some of these later if i feel like it

lark and sparrow irl are the same menaces as they are like they constantly confuse the cast by swappin places and pulling pranks

Willy is actually a super nice guy out of acting, and has to constntly check on cast members if theyre feeling alrght. Keeps buying food and feeding the cast memebers and the stagehands. Very good at acting scary that sometimes they cant tell if its real or not.

Daryl is not beating the bisexual allegations after the oakson kiss scene or the glenn daryl car argument. I need to animate that so badly actually.

Cern cgi shenanigans

They keep running out of fake blood

Ron is as equally weird as he is both irl and in acting. Just a weird little guy. Love him. He's literally just ron reincarnated holy shit. Like he keeps saying stuff that people think is supposed to be in relatance to the script but its actually just him being him.

Glenn has a huge fanclub and he can actually play the guitar. He puts on impromptu shows for fans during meet and greets. Bud loves the attention. Attention wjore

The kidadas are all good friends. They have lots of sleepovers and play games and stuff. Grant is actually really good at gaming in real life as well, which added to his resume. Goth terry. Goth terry. Socially awkward kid but talented actor. Nick can skateboard because I say so and teaches the others some cool tricks, which lark and sparrow instantly take to it.

"Yeah, you should just die or something."

"Sniffle (goes compeltely off script i dont remember what was supposed to be said)"

"Cut- Wait ron i didnt actually mean that-"

Some cool ass fight scenes like the barry oak confrontation behind the scenes with the props and rpatical effects. The twins have a field day with the blood effects.

The omega daddies are actually good friends outside of acting and they are gossipy old men. Cunty ahh. They like to hang out at cafes and gossip about people. They have quite the fashion sense lmao.

The tower of terry scene actually went through in one take, surprisingly. Ron kept going off script on accident and total awkwardness but it actually made the whole scene more complete.

Red carpet moment with the dads in cool looking suits and ron looking like well, ron. Im sorry ron is my favourite dad.

Henry is actually a vegan in real life, barry oak is not. Man just chomps on chicken wings in front of henry for fun. I hc that barry oak looks like belos toh dont at me.

The deez nuts joke went over so well that everyone constantly tries to deez nuts willy afterwards and he gets insanely paranoid about responding to people. When Willy hit Glenn back with the dragon deez nuts across the floor joke no one was as impressed like "its not the same"

Jodie and glenn arent siblings irl but they get on so well like one even out of acting due to their vastly different methodologies. Lots of fun sibling banter. I hc that jodie just looks like jimmy irl but more cop and buff looking.

The deck of many things episode with the reaper was probably really fun to film with all the effects and stuff.

The FREAKING PYRAMID. Of course they had to film that within the studio but they built a couple of steps for them to stand on. They actually got a water jet of apple juice in the studio. 2/4 of the dads got sick after filming that day.

Scam likely irl is a funny cool uncle archetype. His other roles involve wizardry and funkiness so this one was right up his alley.

I want a couple of shots of just the cast members breaking out in laughter after a particularly insane set of lines. they take SO many shots just to finish filming that scene. Bloopers my beloved you will always be famous.

Paeden bennets and Walter aren't acually related in real life but i hc that the kid playing Paeden is also an orphan and Walter irl adopts him in after filming and developing a bond with each other. Paeden being a giant zombie was probably fun to film like he would make jokes about how small everyone is even though its just cgi and dude is still tiny af irl.

I would like to think that the game at balls deep stadium was filmed at an actual nearby stadium that they rented out and they got to play an actual game of football after all of the shenanigans of filming.

Yeet bigly is actually disabled in real life, both of his lower legs are prostethics and made the attachment to skateboard pretty cool even though it took many, many tried and attempts to not fall flat on his face with some lessons from Nick on how to skateboard.

Glenn's trial arc of course took place in a real courthouse and they made a lot of ace attorney memes and bloopers but also ouch emotional damage. When Glenn read the script about the meth bay prison arc he was woah kinky

Erin o niel is a pretty cool and chill lady who does in fact love nature and would take walks to feel her role out. I hc that she was supposed to die at first during that library fight but she was so popular they overturned the script and look how that worked out for the better.

[the-genius-az]

Just saw your Omega Azula post and that spurned up some ideas/promps. I hope you find the ideas interesting!

In a Yue lives, Tyzula/Yutara A/B/O Au.

Ty Lee and Yue are hanging out with Suki on ember island during their vacation. The three were talking about the recent happenings at Ty Lee’s circus when the sounds of shouting and fighting interrupted their conversation.

Rushing out, they found Azula and Katara in the middle of a brawl. Fighting first to fist, and with their powerful but equal bending attacking the other Omega erratically. The two master benders were both heavily brusised and had to held baxk by their alphas from trying to attack each tooth again. Azula and Katara were the bonded Omega’s of Ty Lee and Yue respectively.

Ty Lee and Yue try to get to the bottom of just why their omega’s started fighting. Maybe it was simple dislike spurned into fighting, maybe it was pregnancy haromones for both Azula and Katara. Maybe it was just one teasing the other till they snapped.

After that they (Ty Lee and Yue) try to force their Omega’s to “get along” with one another. They are the two most powerful Alpha/Omega couples after all…

How do you think that goes…? And what exactly would Ty Lee and Yue do, to get Azula and Katara (their Omegas) to make nice.

&&&&&

Another A/B/O idea is an Azutara one. Where both Azula and Katara are Alpha’s and defying nature or logic they are a bonded pair.

During the chase, the two get up close and personal to fight and accidentally mark each other has mates.

What do you think happens from there?

Thanks for the ideas/proposals, Amor!

I LOVE IT WHEN YOU SEND ME IDEAS, KEEP IT UP.

Obviously Ty Lee and Yue "threaten" them to no longer give them pampering and affection so that they get along, both Omegas did not worry about it until their Alphas declared that they were no longer going to fuck for a long time until both Omegas get along , that immediately caused Azula and Katara to get along in "wonder".

And I bet Suki was laughing her ass off at the whole situation.

(By the way, maybe they both will finally get along when some guys threaten their Alphas and they both team up to burn/drown the world for their beloved Alphas)

[...]

When both Alphas mark each other, they are surprised to do so, they never knew Alphas could mark each other.

Maybe after that Azula completely avoids Katara completely, always running away and running away from her Alpha, until they both meet and fight again until they realize that their routine begins, and they both fall into temptation and do it, and I don't know, maybe over time Azula accepts her Alpha and Katara accepts that her destined one is Azula.

(I especially liked this idea, I would like to talk about it a little more. Personally, I have always liked Alpha/Alpha and Omega/Omega couples more than Alpha/Omega).

[warblingandwriting]

I can't listen to these star trek podcasts anymore, these people whose ostensible job is media analysis apparently have absolutely no reading comprehension.

I was listening to this one podcast-made by people who are actually employed by a magazine/podcast network and not just some friends hanging out (in which case I'd be more lenient) and they just seemed to not understand certain episodes at all?

The two in particular were The Omega Glory and Let That be Your Last Battlefield, neither of which are particularly good, to be fair. BUT! A part of the reason they aren't great is because their messaging is so on the nose! Like It should be impossible to miss the messages these episodes are sending but somehow these folks do, in what I feel like is a truly idiotic way.

This podcast, in discussing these episodes, was assuming that the humans on the enterprise are the representation of contemporaneous (ie-60s) society, while the aliens are supposed to represent... other cultures I guess? Like on of them literally said that the point of Let That be Your Last Battlefield was that humans had reached equality (in the 60s, to be clear) and were now teaching aliens the same thing. Like what???

In that episode the Cheron are very obviously supposed to represent present day humanity and the inequalities and hatreds that tear us apart, and the fate of their planet is what, star trek says, will happen to use if we can't get over our prejudices to reach the idealistic future TOS provides. It's not saying we're already there! It's saying we have to work to get rid of the same prejudices the Charon have to reach that.

Now it doesn't do this very well I'll admit, it's too heavy handed, and the reactions to the Charon are far too 'both sides'-y for my liking, but to claim the episode is trying to say that humanity has already achieved balance indicates a lack of ability to analyze that is is frankly baffling to me.

And the same with the Omega Glory! Yes, Kirk reading out the constitution at the end is stupid, but again this Podcaster seemed to think he was saying that the United States as it was in the 60s was perfect when that is so clearly not the case! The episode is saying that, once again, we, as in present day humans, are not living by the values we set out for ourselves, and we'd do well to remember things like freedom for all.

Again, the episode is far too heavy handed, and weirdly America centric, but to claim its intention is to show off how good present day America is compared to a theoretical alien species is just ridiculous to me. THE ALIENS ARENT REAL they are us, the federation is what we could be if we choose to let go of prejudices and war, and the aliens in these episodes are what we become if we don't, other episodes of course handle this a lot better, but these two are still saying the thing.

They are demanding change, not claiming the status quo is right. And I don't know how anyone with a lick of actual analytical skill could see it otherwise.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Alright so a lot of people wanted to see more ‘hey Imma be an equal opportunity asshole’ from me. So here: Kirishima Eijiro.

Now, I half discussed this with @anastasian-dreamer because I have a half fic idea. But anyways:

Kirishima being the kind of Quirkist who is shocked but so happy when people he judges as having worthless, weak or whatever Quirks win things. They're not as good as people like Bakugou or Todoroki oh no but hey they tried their best. (His confusion when Hagakure beats him, his bafflement when Bakugou is put on the ground by Kouda. Oh well, Bakuhou had to be going easy. He says that and the class kind of frowns at him. He doesn't notice.)

Kirishima with a slight hint of toxic masculinity you Dont notice until you talk to him. In the idea I had its A/B/I and he's an alpha who makes comments about crazy Omegas because wow they take things so seriously and are like so sensitive, should Midoriya be a hero like that? (Izuku glaring and making sure to beat him harder. Classmates drawing away. He doesn't see, he's just worried for their Omega classmate right?)

Then there's the willing blindness to Bakugou. Because Kirishima can't be wrong right? He has to be right cause he would never be friends with a bully. So everyone has gotta be like taking things to seriously with Bakugou. He's just joking around, just playing. Kirishima isn't in the wrong for being the guy’s friend. (Kaminari stops hanging around first because he's tired of being the stupid one, the person always getting insulted. He’s just done with it all. The others follow.)

Basically: I want to take Kirishima and emphasis parts of him I noticed. Him calling his own Quirk weak and not flashy- minor Quirkism. The manly talk? Hints of toxicity. Refusing to see how Bakugou is a bully? Willingly blind because he can't be wrong.

The story would have all of these things building up until Kirishima is alone in the class. He's confused and asks, only to get these facts presented to him. Maybe he shapes up and realizes what he did. Maybe he doesn't. All I know is it would be interesting to explore Kirishima as someone like this. He's the dumb Himbo we love. But exploring him as being someone who is like this is fun to.

[enchantedlandcoffee]

Happy 28th everyone!! Here's my list of fics that I've enjoyed over the past month!

in this world, it's just us by larryftnoctrl / @the-larry-way

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Teen and Up Audiences | 2.8k | Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Harry returns home from the Brits with his 4 awards happy and very drunk. Louis is super proud and extremely in love with his boy and more than happy to show it in any way he can.

Just a little taste by lunarheslwt / @lunarheslwt

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | General Audiences | 3.6k | Human/Vampire Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

"Little dove," Louis crooned, making Harry shiver a little, affected, "you're shaking. Do you want to bite?" Harry stilled. He knew what Louis was asking. He knew Louis probably could sense how in dire need of comfort he was. He knew Louis was offering. And yet- "No," he whispered, even as he felt the strong urge to let his lips trace the well-known path to the spot he usually bit into, "I could hurt you." "Harry, my darling, you haven't hurt me once in the numerous times you've needed to bite. Today will be no different. You know it'll do you good." Harry sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, torn. In the end, it was an offer he was too weak to resist. "So...do you want to? Little taste?" "Yeah," Harry rasped out, "please." Or, Harry is a vampire that comes home one night, grappling with the darkness that comes with being one. Louis offers him unwavering love, acceptance and the one thing he needs but is reluctant to ask for; permission to bite for the sake of comfort and safety seeking.

Can't keep my hands to myself by DaddyAlphaLouisBabyOmegaHarry @bottomhaztoplou

Explicit | 2.5k | Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry and Louis try something new in bed

ti dedico le autostrade che portano al mare (i dedicate to you the highways that bring you to the sea) by me_her_themoon / @greeneyesfriedrice

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Explicit | 87k+ | Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers, OT5 Friendship (One Direction)

"Simon, please. I need a break." Louis speaks softly into the phone. "I've been working constantly for the past 4 years," His voice strains. "I suppose you've earned it." Simon reluctantly sighs. (Louis goes on hiatus for six months to a small coastal town in Italy where he doesn't expect to fall in love with the charming baker.

Quiet People Have The Loudest Minds by 2tiedships2 / @2tiedships2

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson | Mature | 38k | Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mute Louis, Alpha Harry, Omega Louis

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight. The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying. Or the one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

it's a long shot just to beat these odds by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

Zayn Malik/Liam Payne | Teen and Up Audiences | 14k | Famous Liam Payne, Non-Famous Zayn Malik, Awkward Dates, Strangers to Lovers

Zayn: how many years in prison would I get for murdering a popstar??? He scrapes the plates clean, resists the urge to kick the trash can, his breathing still feeling shallow and high in his chest. He wants a cigarette. And a cuddle from Louis. But a text is the most he can realistically ask for now, and luckily Louis doesn’t leave him hanging. Louis: ????? Okay, so it isn’t that helpful, but Zayn knows his anxiety well enough that just distracting his mind is usually enough to keep from having an actual attack. It doesn’t matter that the subject he’s discussing is the one thing his brain is actually panicking about, just trying to formulate words into a text is helping. Zayn: I served him raw chicken. RAW. And he was kind enough to want to try and eat it too. I could have killed him!!! That would’ve made headlines for sure. FORMER BOYBANDER GETS POISONED ON FIRST DATE, more on the ten p.m. news. Louis: well that’s one way of making sure he’s not going to go on any of the other dates. Bit drastic though mate.

Coffee, Kisses, and I Love You's by wemadethishome / @wemadethishome

Zayn Malik/Liam Payne | General Audiences | 429 | Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship

Liam's always loved the mornings. And they get even sweeter with Zayn by his side.

[trickstarbrave]

My mind is going give me a second

Omegaverse nerevoryn but Nerevar didn’t end up going to Kogoruhn as a child. Survivors from his village instead went south, where a ra’athim noble saw Nerevar and forced Nelvon (Nerevar’s uncle) to sell him into slavery.

Nerevar is from a young age forced to help work plantations and guard food supplies (chained to the inside of the warehouse). Until he presents as an omega, after which they try and auction him off. Omega slaves are actually pretty rare and fetch for a good price. The problem is he’s an aggressive omega and most bidders either think his scent isn’t very appealing or he’s too aggressive for their tastes.

Until house Dres decides it would be funny to ship him up north to Kogoruhn. Their heir is around the age he’ll start looking for a mate and concubines. Nerevar is seemingly a very attractive omega in the surface: handsome face, toned body, pretty features, but he’s got nord blood and a nasty temperament and swears and spits at all alphas. However if they just outright kill him or ship him back house dres can hang that over their heads as them “rejecting” such a kind gift they sent the heir of house dagoth

Nerevar is delivered in a cart after trying to escape multiple times. He’s heard of house dagoth: they’re cruel, insular, and hate outsiders. Strong Mephala worshippers, they’ll no doubt find a covert way to kill him after house dres gives up. That or they’ll use him as a slave in more horrific ways—or what if they sell him to the terrifying Dwemer they’re close to? Or worse: they intend to break him slowly and surely and just use him as a breeding slave. He doesn’t wanna fucking go. Along with him are other very obvious gifts: fine clothes and jewelry, bug musk, and some supplies.

By all means it looks like a peace offering, but house Dagoth isn’t buying it. By the time Nerevar makes it up there he’s almost due for his heat and he wants to get away but they keep him pretty tightly locked up. There is no disguise that falters and Nerevar has no hidden weapons but they’re cautious. But fine, just to follow procedure and to get the house dres members waiting there they take Nerevar’s shirt when he goes into heat to offer it to Voryn. Voryn takes it, inhaling the scent softly, equally disgusted at even humoring the idea of sleeping with a random slave he’d never met let alone one sent by house dres—

And then he goes almost ballistic, practically fighting his way to Nerevar’s room. He needs to mate with that omega, immediately. His reaction is extreme and they force Voryn back into his room saying they’ll bring the omega to him they just need to coax him out and get him ready. And it works for a bit but also they’re wondering what the fuck happened?? Just before this Voryn was disgusted and refusing to even try his scent and now he wants to mate so strongly he’s practically feral??? That didn’t seem to be house dres’ plan. They instead seemed to enjoy how uncomfortable house dagoth was at the prospect of being responsible for Nerevar now.

And then a healer realizes. Fuck. They might be fated mates. Only way to tell if this is a trick or not is to cast dispel on Nerevar and then offer him one of Voryn’s robes as he’s gone into a full rut very quickly.

Nerevar avoids doing so. He’s smelled alphas in rut before and the scents range from mildly off putting to revolting. He stays on the far end of the room, not even given enough pillows and blankets to nest properly, before the scent in the air is making his head fuzzy and he can’t help but crawl over to it and breathe it in deeply, burying his face in the fabric. It’s warm and spicy and slightly floral and perfect. Absolutely the most addictive thing Nerevar’s ever smelled and he starts whining and whimpering inside his room and then feeling even more freaked out because what the fuck was happening to him???

Hearing that he is having a reaction though they drag him out (robe in hand) to Voryn’s room after putting a seal to prevent pregnancy on him.

Nerevar is freaked out at first, alone with an alpha he doesn’t recognize, scared shitless, but Voryn coaxes him to the bed and starts making a nest for him and scenting him, brushing his hair and dressing Nerevar in his clothes. Nerevar wants to be paranoid and freaked out but it’s. So nice. It’s so nice and warm and he smells like Voryn and Voryn is rubbing his scalp and holding him so he feels safe. They don’t fuck right away bc Voryn makes sure Nerevar is nice and comfortable. This is his mate, he knows it, he can feel it, but he wants neht to be as comfortable as possible and to learn more about him.

The first two days they just talk. They eat and sleep and bathe together and talk. Nerevar quickly feels like he’s known Voryn his whole life. He shouldn’t, but he does, and he can’t bring himself to leave Voryn’s side or even seriously consider trying to escape.

And then after the first two days they start going at it like rabbits. The first time Voryn knots Nerevar he knows he never wants anyone but Nerevar. He whispers into Nerevar’s neck that he’ll be such a good alpha for him, he’ll take good care of Nerevar. Nerevar will get to do whatever he wishes so long as he stays as Voryn’s mate. He can fight, he can learn magic, he can lounge around Kogoruhn, whatever he wishes, Voryn will provide for him. And then he bites and claims Nerevar

House dres tries to exploit the situation saying they deserve compensation for bringing their heir his fated mate but house dagoth kicks them out saying Nerevar was, as they said countless times, a gift.

Nerevar still hates house dres once his heat is over and is very weary of everyone else in house Dagoth for a bit but Voryn is true to his word. He teaches Nerevar to read. Let’s Nerevar learn how to fight and train his body, and also takes good care of Nerevar while Nerevar low key plans his revenge

[mpreg-nouveau]

Turn of the century omegaverse thoughts

Cause I'm a huge fucking history nerd and I was thinking about, what would omegaverse look like at different points in history/how would it effect history, and given the motif of this blog I thought I'd share some from 1900s-1910s.

Note, this is not me romanticising these concepts, just thinking about potential plotlines or ideas that COULD result from omegaverse being part of this point in the human time line, both good, bad, and just weird:

–omega sufferage movement along side women's sufferage

–the overlap between women’s rights movement and the issues of A/B/O hierarchies creating a lot of fuss and questions during the time, especially with news print and communication getting more and more wide spread.

–ex, it being considered ok for an alpha female to dress in men's clothing and do work as the primary breadwinner when her husband or wife is an omega, but what happens when she is with an alpha male who is socially EXPECTED to be the primary bread winner at the time? Is the woman supposed to quit her job and become a house wife upon marriage? She certainly doesn't think so and neither does her husband.

–i feel like the American hierarchy at the time is alpha male>alpha female=beta male>beta female=omega male=omega female.

–omegas using labor unions to fight for equal treatment and pay in new industrial settings.

--factories are hesitant to hire them because fearing their workers will go on heat regularly and slow down production. People having to hide that they are omegas to get work as a result. This was the time period where you could get fired for a work place injury after all.

–people coming to the States for the first time with different cultural expectations for the a/b/o dynamics and getting some culture shock from American life, whether american standards are stricter, less strict, or entirely flipped from their home perspectives.

–along with with the Gibson girl there's also the Gibson boy representing the dainty stereotype of omegas. 

–the new middle class and upper middle class suddenly being targeted by mass production industrial giants advertising new, useless creature comforts to build extravagant and gorgeous nests and dens

–patent medicines that are utterly worthless but advertise to act as heat suppressants, rut control, and to make your scent more appealing to others

–in order to pander to ideals of modernization and “civility” american upper crusts comparing their a/b/o status to various dog breeds instead of wolves. There's essentially a horoscope of sorts they've come up with to align themselves with specific dog breeds and the stereotypes there off.

– ex: “my father was an alpha bulldog type, and my mother a beta beagle designation, and because I was born on the 3rd Sunday in August as an omega, I am a jack Russell terrier designation.

–people keep harassing Arthur Conan Doyle for Watson and Sherlock’s canonic designation. This is what causes the poor man to lose it and start believing in fairies. 

–omega heat cars on trains for single individuals to hang out in and avoid perverts. Its meant as a kind gesture but instead just ends up playing into puritan culture surrounding omega bodies. 

–as electricity is being installed in more and more homes there's an irrational worry that the electrical circuits in the walls will mess with the cycles of heat and rut among some. 

–its completely unfounded but causes people to resist the switch anyways

–meanwhile there IS evidence that gas based light fixtures DO have negative effects on the body but everyone grew up with them “and I turned out ok so it must be fine”

–advent of widespread vaccines and better standards of sanitation means that entire litters of pups are surviving childhood now

–families that worried to name pups after they were born, as back in their home land it was rare for more than one per litter to survive, suddenly are having miracle litters. Every single pup is ending up getting spoiled by these families who expected the worst.

–new ridiculous electric inventions come out catering to beautification and a/b/o fertility care. One is a body massage device that supposedly increases the chances of having a healthy and fruitful pregnancy….it's essentially a hand held belly rub machine. 

– most of the US was still rural and isolated from the cities at this time. Few had ventured 20 miles from their home town. Rural parents worrying about their omega children marrying people from the city…because of a genuine yet misguided fear of their kids getting so overwhelmed by all the new scents  in the city that they will immediately have a seizure and die. 

–during the turn of the century it was already fairly common for kids to wear gender neutral, play safe clothing like gowns all the way up to 8 years old, so gender neutral clothing being common until a kid presents for the first time.

–classes getting divided into alphas, omegas, and betas in some puritanical schools in order to “protect the children” as the new US mandatory  public school system is getting hammered out

–packs becoming a looser term for more wide social circles rather than relatives or clans due to migration of people both into the nation and throughout. 

–Ex: woman forming packs based on sharing supplies in a new city with each other, or packs surrounding shared interest in activities like sewing or books

–the Boston Red Sox declare themselves a pack one day.

–I feel like a lot of politicians pretend to be alphas for status

–teddy Roosevelt secretly being an omega but nobody realizes this cause he's constantly covered in wood ash and various funk from his game hunting and overtly manly activities. Everyone just assumes he's an alpha between that and his personality.

(Edit: clarification on the last one, this is a joke about how the guy had horrible asthma and other chronic health issues especially while young, which for most people at the time would mean a very short life span, but no one knew because the dude compensated with so much exercise and other extreme health stuff you could do at the time you could not tell. Dude even took a bullet to the chest midway through a speech and then finished said speech. Dude basically made himself a stereotype of an "alpha male")

[triskhellion]

15 Shades of Red

Rated: Explicit (3.5k | WIP 1/18)

Relationships: Derek/Stiles, Stiles & Isaac, Derek & Malia, Derek & Isaac, The Family, background Boyd/Erica, Lydia/Jackson/Danny, Heather/Kira

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Malia Tate, Talia Hale, Peter Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Kira Yukimura, Heather, Cora Hale, Laura Hale, Matt Daehler, Braeden, etc.

Tags: POV Stiles, POV Derek, Graphic Violence, Mob AU, Spark Stiles, Omega Derek, Mob Boss Stiles, Mob Boss/Pack Alpha Talia, Creeper Stiles, Power Imbalance, Sharing a Bed, Touch-Starved Derek, Getting Together, Angst & Fluff & Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Blood, Kidnapping, Torture, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Minor Character Deaths, Explicit Sexual Content, (Mostly) Bottom Derek/Top Stiles, Virgin Derek, Light BDSM, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Knotting, First Time Bottoming, Murder Husbands, Mpreg (in epilogue,) Happy Ending.

Summary: Derek is the 23 year old omega son of Alpha Boss Talia Hale, the only non-alpha born to the Hales in at least four generations. Restricted by his overprotective mother after a past kidnapping and misunderstood by the alphas and betas of the Pack, he longs for more than the boring life he's been consigned to and the suitors only interested in him for his name or body.

Stiles became the head of the Stilinski branch of the Gajoš Family at 19 after both of his parents were gunned down six years apart. With the help of a talented group of friends, the secret Spark with a newly powerful and disturbing Gift took down a slew of rivals to keep control of his territory in Beacon City. Now 21, the infamous Boss with a love for the color red is suddenly given an opportunity to bring the object of his affection, a completely oblivious Derek, into his Family as restitution for an unintended, but significant offense by the Hale Pack. He takes it.

Equiknots: Harvest & Hunter's Moon prompts: 18, Between, Corn Equal, Hunter, Knot, Sanguine, Spice, Super & Travel

Stiles

His cool, calm, and collected demeanor was at odds with the anxiety and anticipation roiling inside. Stiles learned years ago to school his facial expressions, to quiet the fingers that itched to drum on any surface, the feet to tap, or a leg to bounce. At least in public. There were the odd lapses, yes, but he couldn’t afford that today. He had to be the Boss, play the unbothered Blade of infamy. 

Of course, the facade alone wouldn’t be worth a damn while in the company of werewolves, but he had other tricks up his sleeve. Or more accurately, hanging from a simple black cord around his neck; the thin, metallic, rune-marked disc the size of an old silver dollar resting flush against his sternum and tucked beneath layers of clothing. A white sleeveless v-neck under a long-sleeved red dress shirt, the shade of which he often used to signal his mood or the tone of the day’s business. (But not always, it wouldn’t do to be completely predictable, not to mention that circumstances often turned on a dime.)

Today he wore a vibrant scarlet, including a matching tie, with his signature charcoal gray 3-piece suit. Bold and triumphant for this was a momentous occasion. Stiles doubted he could’ve engineered a better opportunity himself than the one poised to fall into his lap. Hopefully literally in the not-too-distant future if he played his cards right. 

And to think this had all been set into motion by sheer happenstance after more time than he cared to admit spent daydreaming trying to scheme up some kind of proper introduction over the past few years. But there was always some reason why it wasn’t a good time or likely to backfire if not cause a capital I Incident. There was also the part of him that would rather be able to keep his fantasy alive than risk the possibility of being shot down (and not only figuratively.)

But then eleven days ago his childhood best friend, Scott McCall, had been Bitten by Peter Hale. 

The werewolf had been out of his mind at the time, drugged by a pretty face working for a rogue Calavera with some specialized strain of wolfsbane and made to go temporarily feral. An excuse for Hunters to “justifiably” attack the powerful Pack no doubt. Without his human side in charge to temper his ambitions — he was strong enough to become a Pack Alpha himself if he’d wanted to — the Left Hand of the Hales went looking for someone to Bite. His first Beta.

For some baffling reason he’d ended up going for Scott when he came across the veterinary student, who was entirely unsuitable for “the life,” walking with a date in the park. The terrified 21 year old managed to call Stiles just before he was actually attacked and when he was found by Isaac in some bushes soon after, bloody but healing, the Boss and Enforcer both knew exactly what was happening. 

Isaac had been turned without consent himself several months before, but that Alpha had meant it as punishment for some slight, thinking either Stiles would turn on the new wolf or be killed by him. Instead he restrained Isaac with his power, threw him in a basement room, and slapped a silence rune on it. Then he made a concealment token to keep the change in status under wraps. They quietly figured it out with help from Alpha Satomi Ito, an old friend of Stiles’ mother, and once the blue-eyed wolf had learned enough control they took care of that asshole themselves.    

It didn’t escape his notice that despite all of Scott’s issues with him following in his parents footsteps that it had been Stiles that he had called when his life was on the line. So it goes. They’d started growing apart after his mother was killed and the rift between them widened as they continued going through very different experiences. No matter how many times he tried to explain the concept of a power vacuum — that even if he, or previously his father, had wanted to run away from it all that more people would actually be hurt if they did so — Scott just couldn’t understand. 

And so Stiles never even considered trying to bring him into to fold or tell him about Isaac being a wolf too. That he could find a pack here or that there were even ways to stick around without one. He called up Satomi and she had him on the way to some sleepy college town in Virginia within a handful of days. 

Honestly, the whole situation was for the best for both of them. Scott could go be uncomplicated and enjoy his new lack of asthma with a laid back pack on the other side of the country and Stiles wouldn’t have to worry about him not being part of the Family, but possibly being targeted as an associate. There’d be no more sending anyone to babysit him from afar as he ambled about sketchy parts of Beacon City blissfully unaware of not being mugged either. 

And so here he was. The Hales had contacted him apologetically once they realized what had happened and to whom and he’d let them stew for a few days before responding.

The barest smirk tugged at his lips as he observed the Alpha Heir, Laura Hale, attempt to discreetly scent his emotions, her nostrils flaring slightly as she feigned engrossment with the large painting taking up much of the wall behind his side of the table. The imagery of the Crooked Forest in Nowe Czarnowo on a misty morning was both deeply meaningful for him and an interesting conversation piece for the relatively few guests allowed within these walls. It would likely be quite some time before those gathered here returned again, if ever.

His amusement increased at the wrinkle deepening between her brows when she picked up nothing at all, huffing and turning to side-eye the short red-headed woman speaking with her younger sister, Cora, at the other end of the room. As far as those outside the Inner Circle of the Family knew (or Great Eight as Erica insisted,) Lydia Martin was the Stilinski emissary and responsible for any of their mage craft.

Dearest Lydia was indeed their emissary, his representative in matters both supernatural and mundane. She did also possess magic, though the exact nature of her abilities — that she was a banshee — was yet another closely guarded secret. But it was Stiles himself that created their magical implements, set their wards and, when need be, used his significant abilities to eliminate their threats.

The only people who’d witnessed him in action, enraged and eyes shining the rich burgundy of venous blood, were his most trusted Family and the soon to be dispatched recipients of said power. (The occasional innocent bystander didn’t count because their memories of the event would be wiped clean. He wasn’t entirely amonster.) 

Aware of how requesting attendance by the entire Hale family, lowercase f, would seem an insultingly blatant trap he had sent a blood-spelled letter witnessed and effected by a Notary Mage. He, Isaac, and Lydia — the Head, the Hand, and the Voice of the Stilinski Family — had pricked their thumbs with the small ceremonial dagger and bled beside their signatures on the thick parchment, swearing that there'd be no violence against the Hales by them or those in their service, or with their foreknowledge, on pain of death. 

For a span of 7 hours, equally before and after the meeting’s start time of noon, they could not strike. Unless the Hales attacked first, of course. They weren’t idiots.

Stiles still hadn’t been sure that they would come though, perhaps insisting on meeting in neutral territory instead. He would’ve agreed to that if he had to, but this made things so much simpler. More contained and less prone to erupt in violence or involve outside parties.

The Stilinskis and Hales weren’t formal allies, but they weren’t enemies either. Some minor altercations between underlings aside they had no quarrel with each other, even cooperating when their interests aligned from time to time or giving a heads up about some mutual rival. 

The officiated blood-spell must’ve been enough for the Hale’s own emissary, Druid Alan Deaton to proclaim them safe enough even within another organization’s stronghold. The placid Black man in a forest green suit was currently observing everything from the sidelines and also keeping tabs on Lydia in particular. If he only knew.

In addition, they were allowed to bring a dozen soldiers with then; three were currently posted inside the room, two outside the door, and the other seven were split between the front and back entrances and on standby with their vehicles. He also knew, courtesy of his tech wizard, Danny, and head of security, Boyd, that the Steiner twins (jokingly referred to as Arts & Entertainment) were waiting with a small arsenal just beyond the property line about half a mile away in case things went south. 

The heirloom oak and bronze grandfather clock chimed out the hour and the gathered werewolves turned to him expectingly, but he only looked toward the door and went back to reading the papers spread before him. With every minute after noon the tension grew and at 12:07pm Peter Hale finally broke the silence. 

“Apologies,” he said, tone making clear that he wasn’t the one who should offer them. “But if we could start…” 

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Everyone hasn’t arrived yet.” 

The four Hales looked at each other with surprise and discomfort. The druid’s gaze sharpened. 

“You mean Derek and Malia? But wh—“ Peter began.

“Was the invitation not clear?”

“Yes, but they’re not really involved in this level of business,” said Laura, looking towards her mother as the Hale Alpha merely stared at him in silence.

Oh, I’m aware he thought disapprovingly, eyes intentionally flickering to the not-yet-18 year old Cora.

“Nevertheless, this matter affects them as well,” Stiles said, wearing what he hoped was a small, pleasant smile. “So if you could have them come per our agreement—”

“We would greatly appreciate it,” added Lydia, trying to soften the sharpness of his tone and keep things from devolving already. 

The dark haired sisters shared an annoyed look as Peter sat tight-lipped in his seat. After several moments Talia broke eye contact and nodded to Laura. The Heir pulled out her phone and sent a few texts, snorting a minute later at the response. 

“They said they could get here in about 25 minutes, but only by coming straight from the gym.”

Isaac looked over to him and chuckled.

“We promise not to take offense,” Stiles said, quickly banishing the thought of a flexing, sweat drenched Derek before it could fully form. “Refreshments will be served shortly in the meantime.” 

He stood and nodded to Liam who’d been waiting near the entrance for any requests and the young soldier hurried to the kitchen. 

“Excuse me while I attend to a few things in my office. Feel free to explore the library in the drawing room,” he said, gesturing to go through the archway on the right side and across the hall.

He walked over to Isaac on his way out. “Come get me when they arrive.” 

Derek

He was at the power rack about to attempt a new single max low back squat when his and Malia’s phones chimed simultaneously. Always a good sign, Derek thought sarcastically as he let out a long sigh. What now?

His cousin, who had been racing on an elliptical nearby like an angry T1000 with John Connor in its sights, hopped off and grabbed her phone and water bottle as he continued to fume about the interruption, sure that his workout would be cut short.

Coming to the gym, like running beta shifted or blasting his music, was how he took the edge off the unmet needs and burned through the negative emotions that he lived with as a matter of course. The regular focus, control, and clearing of his mind also made it that much easier to mute the “outgoing” of his bonds and hide his interior world from the Pack’s scrutiny. Their well meaning, but frequently misapplied concern, especially his mother’s.  

“They need us at the Stilinski meeting as soon as possible,” she said after reading the message. 

Derek groaned and made a point of completing his lift, though his form was shaky in his annoyance. He’d heard of the letter “requesting” they all attend, but last night when he asked what time he should be ready to go he’d been assured that their presence wasn’t necessary. His presence, really. If she weren’t his usual bodyguard he bet they’d have taken Malia along. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to go, but he resented being summarily excluded. Again.

Growing up, Derek had never felt like a stereotypical alpha and being months past his 16th birthday he’d been worried about presenting as a beta, who tended to take longer to reveal their secondary sex than alphas did. Not because he thought there was anything was wrong with betas, but because he knew what it would mean in his family. He didn’t want to be different. Othered. 

Not once though did he imagine that he could be an omega. Between Hale genetics being what they were and the rarity of omegas in general (and male ones in particular) it was so beyond the realm of possibility that that particular fear hadn’t even crossed his mind. Then came that first humiliating heat. 

Derek had been playing video games in the den downstairs when it started, not recognizing the first symptoms. Feeling just a bit off he’d taken a nap on the couch only to wake up a few hours later confused and burning up. Simultaneously very uncomfortable and extremely horny, not to mention damp where he’d never been before. It was frightening. 

Ten year old Cora had wandered in to play with her action figures and been alarmed to see him sweaty and groaning and yelled that he looked really sick. Peter had been the first to investigate and after several moments of shock had started laughing and offered to find him a “knotty boy” in front of his now present and scandalized mother.

He’d ended up locked inside an interrogation room with an inflatable mattress and some sheets and a blanket. Laura ran out to hastily purchase some random toys for him and then put them inside with snacks and water, but no one came around to make sure he ate or drank for longer than was healthy. They hadn’t known better.  

Every wolf born in the past four generations of the main Hale family, all 30 of the 37 descendants of his great-grandfather Desmond Hale who had presented before him, had been alphas. (So had the three since.) The only non-alphas in their bloodline had been the mates of those born Hales, mostly betas and a handful of alpha-alpha pairs. There were just two omegas over that time frame: the wife of one of his second cousins and a deceased great uncle-in-law. 

His beta father, Aaron, had been “blamed” for the anomaly having had an omega grandfather as well as a baby brother and two female cousins in his family. He’d died from smoke inhalation saving a handful of strangers from a house fire several years before Derek presented and had been cut off from his family when he mated the infamous Talia Hale, so they’d had no close and trusted source of advice and firsthand information. Oh, they’d read articles and browsed web forums and asked Deaton (who was not at all well versed in the subject) about it, but his family simply hadn’t really known what to do with any omega, much less a male one. 

They’d muddled through, but not without plenty of scars to show for it, mostly on Derek’s end. All of the times when they treated him differently and shouldn’t have, especially after he was kidnapped at 17 by a gang led by a supernatural-hating fanatic.

His mother had been overprotective before then, but when they got him back — bruised and traumatized, but before the worst had happened — he could barely take a piss without someone hovering nearby. 

Derek was steered away from or outright denied any position that might put him “at special risk” as an omega, which was practicality everything of rank or actually interesting. He would not be trained to be Laura’s Second as was customary for the next born nor sent on missions or even errands. If he were more technologically inclined he could’ve worked his way up in Intelligence, but torrenting foreign tv shows and troubleshooting the wifi were about the extent of his abilities. Anything related to their less-than-legal operations were off-limits as well. Unsafe.

No, Derek’s contribution to the Pack was in “Procurement and Supply Management,” i.e. making sure that the Manor and their other private or commercial properties never ran out of pasta or printer ink or toilet paper and that the lights stayed on. He also sometimes floated around filling in for members in Document Control or Internal Mail or did grunt work for the accountants. Sterile and boring.    

Conversely, the one area where they should’ve taken his omega status into account they regularly failed to do so. Acted as if the same level of physical bonding and affection they normally engaged in would be enough for him. At least some of the pack had learned that omegas required more, knew that intellectually, but habits being as they were it generally hadn’t been the case in practice. 

After getting met with annoyed glances or told that someone would come by later and have them never show he simply stopped asking after a while. Cuddling with his sisters once or twice a week while watching movies or tv shows and the occasional touches from his mother had kept him going, but he’d been low to mid-level touch starved much of the time and occasionally worse.

Since presenting Derek always felt at least somewhat apart from the pack as whole. He’d been teased by Peter and the beta soldiers, Aidan and Ethan, who often accompanied him before Malia was of age. He’d overheard certain comments from several others and withdrew even further inside himself, becoming more and more skilled at locking himself away.

What was the point of letting on exactly how dissatisfied and disconnected he felt? Things wouldn’t actually change, there’d just be some grumbling and there-theres and attempts to fix him instead of the situation. 

Things had definitely improved when Malia arrived and had been amenable to random cuddling, but he still held himself back from doing it as often as he wanted to in fear of being a burden. 

No one had been more surprised that Peter had a child than the playboy wolf himself, an alpha coyote-wolf hybrid that had long since been abandoned by her mother. She’d been a hellion of a street kid, causing all sorts of mischief and lashing out while trying to survive, until one day she’d ended up hauled in before the crew leader in charge of protection. 

There was something about her, perhaps certain notes in her scent or something vaguely familiar in her appearance or manner, that gave Finstock pause before delivering the standard beating — non-life threatening or severely damaging — for a shifter her age. The wild-haired Bitten wolf was eccentric and prone to randomly bringing up his lost testicle, but had an uncanny sense about things and kept order in the streets, neither too soft nor overly cruel. Inquires were made, fingerprints and DNA ran, and surprise, congratulations, it was a bouncing baby snarling 16 year old Hale! 

It didn’t take long for her and the then 19 year old Derek to gravitate towards each other, coming from two very different upbringings, but both outsiders in their own way. Malia was trained up and when she turned 18 became his primary bodyguard and the rest was history. 

“C’mon, lets’s bounce,” she said, poking him in the shoulder. “ASAP means ASAP.”

“ASAP also means no shower or change of clothes,” Derek growled, lamenting that Hale Manor was in the opposite direction. He could’ve been there as presentable and on time as everyone else, but nooo. The most he could do was towel off some and slather on the deodorant he had in his bag.

“They’ll just have to deal,” she replied, shrugging. Her lack of concern for propriety was one of the many things he loved about her, but the rules were different for him. Oh well, the only wolves there would be family so perhaps he wouldn’t get that kind of shit for it. Hopefully the Stilinskis had been informed in advance and wouldn’t take their appearance as a slight.

“I guess so,” he muttered, wiping the barbell down quickly before tossing the towel in the used bin. They headed outside and he unlocked the black Camaro in the spot upfront reserved for him. Sliding behind the wheel, he strapped in and started it up as Malia pulled up the directions on her phone. Here we go.

[takaraphoenix]

❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ for Magnus and Jace? 👀

So this was supposed to be a smutty prompt but it accidentally turned into just pure possessive/protective Magnus with no smut? Ooops

--

A few weeks after he'd started hooking up with Magnus, Jace started to notice subtle changes.

Downworlders he encountered treated him with… recognition, at first. A certain degree of respect even. Not in a 'bowing down before him' sense, but rather… treat him as an equal than just as another Shadowhunter nuisance. He didn't notice at first, it took him a couple weeks.

He only noticed when it became more apparent. When Downworlders, particularly warlocks, started to… there was no other way to put it; to protect him. Like he was one of their own. They had his back, stepped in when someone else was out of line toward him. Which was just bizarre.

It wasn't hard to guess that this was related to Magnus, especially since warlocks seemed the only ones to actively step up for him and that this particularly happened in Pandemonium. He was getting VIP treatment at the club these days, got waved in ahead of the line, the bartender knew his favorites and always served him first. And whenever someone was even a hint of inappropriate with him, someone stepped in like he was a damsel in need of a knight protecting his virtue. It would severely piss him off if he didn't find it somewhat funny, quite frankly.

It was a couple months into it, and into whatever he had with Magnus, that it gave him pause. One particular incident that really struck Jace and left him reeling. He'd been hanging out at the bar, bantering with the bartender, Timothy Jeong, with whom he'd grown closer over the past months, when a warlock sat down, very close next to him, interrupting their conversation.

"Hello, gorgeous," the warlock smelt like alpha and sounded like sleazebag. "What's a pretty omega like you doing here all alone? I think you should go back to my hotel with me."

Jace was used to people hitting on him. Back in the day, he used to relish in that and take pretty much everyone home with him, living a life of hook-ups. Nowadays, he did consider himself taken, even though him and Magnus had never quite put a label on it. Yet what had started out as drunk, convenient hook-ups between roommates felt much different now, three months into it. So while Jace still liked the ego-boost of being hit on, he also didn't hook up with them anymore. He turned toward the man with a pleasant enough smile on his lips – knowing that some alphas could react very testy when an omega didn't immediately fawn over them and Jace would like to avoid causing a scene at Magnus' club. Before he could say anything did Hal Armstrong step up to them – head of security, the biggest, bulkiest alpha Jace had ever seen, tall and bald and with arms the size of Jace's head. If Jace had to guess, he'd say that Timothy must have called for security.

"Is that alpha bothering you, Omega Bane?"

And that was it. That was the moment Jace realized that whatever was going on was definitely more than just a bit suspicious behavior from some Downworlders around him. Omega Bane. It actually took Jace a while to register that Hal was talking to him, and then another couple moments to digest that and try to formulate a reply. Too long for Hal, it seemed, because the alpha was already standing right behind Jace, a looming presence, glaring down the stranger.

"Out of every omega at the club, you really picked the wrong one, pal," Timothy chuckled, casually leaning against the bar. "That's not just the club owner's omega. That's the High Warlock of Brooklyn's omega. If I were you, I would… scram, before Magnus Bane sees you."

Jace blinked repeatedly, looking between the guy who had hit on him, Hal and Timothy. What. The name Magnus Bane did the trick though, because the warlock's eyes widened in recognition and fear, before the man simply ran off. Jace tilted his head and crossed his arms.

"What was that," Jace asked, voice sharp.

"We want you to have a good time here and be undisturbed," Hal smiled at him.

The man looked scary at first glance but really was just a gigantic puppy. Jace heaved a sigh.

"I don't need you to intimidate people who hit on me, Hal. I'm quite capable of shaking unwanted attention myself, you know. This… was not necessary."

Hal faltered, looking like a kicked puppy, and Jace nearly felt bad. Only nearly though, because he really did not appreciate being patronized by alphas. He'd had to fight for everything, every ounce of respect from alphas in the field. To prove that he didn't need saving.

"Look," Jace sighed. "Thank you for wanting to help, I appreciate that, but how about, from now on, you help me when I signal that I need your help?"

"Oh. Okay. Yeah," Hal nodded quickly. "Sure, I'm sorry. I just, Alpha Bane said-"

"I do not need any alpha to speak for me," Jace's voice was final. "Not even Magnus, not even in his own club. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Omega Bane," Hal ducked his head like a naughty child.

And there it was again. Omega Bane. There was a weird sense of pleasure, pride and giddiness bubbling in Jace's chest that he tried to squish. Couldn't think about that right now. Maybe couldn't think about that at all. Because if he thought about that too hard, he might have to confront his feelings for Magnus. And that was something he'd effectively avoided thinking about these past months. Mostly, he admitted, because there was always something else going on – between Valentine's return, Jocelyn's death, the loss of the Mortal Cup, the reveal that he was Clary's brother, the reveal that he wasn't Clary's brother. When was he supposed to reflect on the nature of his feelings for the alpha warlock who had taken him in, became a drinking buddy and then became a convenient hook-up, repeatedly, until it started feeling like more than hook-ups.

/break\

That had been the first time Jace really noticed, but it wasn't what pushed him into talking to Magnus about it. Feelings. He didn't do those, much less talking about those. No, that only happened about a month later, when he'd been on a mission with Clary and Izzy and things had gone awry. Alec was missing. Jace and Alec were a duo, they were so in-sync, they worked as one. Now that Alec was head of the Institute though, he went on far less missions and Jace was still adjusting to that, while Clary was still adjusting to being a Shadowhunter, missing years of training.

They'd been overrun by demons, overwhelmed, got separated. Jace was bleeding profoundly from a slash on his side where one of the four demons he was battling on his own had hit him with its claws. He'd managed to kill two of them at this point, but he didn't know where Izzy and Clary were and he was starting to feel dizzy from the blood-loss. One of the two demons left roared at him and slashed at him again, but Jace wouldn't be Jace if he didn't battle to the very last second of his life. He cut off the beast's hand, causing it to roar in distress. However, it was also distracted, just enough for Jace to try and run. A coward's move, his father would say. A means of survival, his parabatai would say. He made it out of the sewers and toward an alley.

"Oh shit, oh crap you are bleeding, like, a lot," stranger, female voice, panicked. "Wait. You're the. The High Warlock's omega. Oh shit. Hold on."

Jace squinted, trying to make the blurry person in front of him out. The blood loss was getting to him. Someone – this person – grabbing his arm was the last thing he noticed before blacking out.

/break\

When Jace next came to it, it was in a comfortable and known environment. Magnus' bed in the loft. He recognized the soft sheets and the safe scent of his alpha all around him. A hand reached out, brushing his hair out of his face. Magnus' hand. He'd recognize those fingers anywhere. Humming softly, he leaned into the comforting, gentle touch.

"You awake, Trouble?" Magnus' voice was soft. "Do you need anything?"

"Wa… Water," Jace coughed, blinking his eyes open.

The next moment, Magnus held a water-bottle against Jace's lips, helping him drink. Jace's heart was skipping a beat at the gentle care. He was so used to powering through any injury mostly alone, the only one who'd get close enough to take care of him for any extend of time was his parabatai.

"Alexander left about an hour ago. I had a hard time prying him from your bedside," Magnus smiled bemused. "But he was in need of a shower, a warm meal and his own bed. Andrew helped me lure his boyfriend back to the Institute to take care of himself for a change. I'll text him."

"Thank you," Jace heaved a sigh as he tried to sit up, but a stinging pain brought him down.

"Sh," Magnus rested a gentle hand on his chest to ease him back down. "You were seriously injured, you need to lay down and rest more, Trouble."

Slowly, bit by bit, the events that had brought him into this bed came back to him. "Clary and Izzy."

"They're fine," Magnus assured him with the smallest smile. "Couple bruises, broken arm in Isabelle's case, but other than that, no serious injuries."

A deep, relieved sigh as Jace settled into the bed more comfortably. Magnus' bed. It had been two months at least since Jace last slept in 'his' bed – his bed at the loft. Far longer since he'd been back to the Institute. Even after Aldertree had been removed as head, Jace never returned. By then, him and Magnus had already started sleeping with each other and Jace was so comfortable here.

"How did I get here?" Jace asked slowly. "I remember the sewers, but…"

"Phoebe Nightingale, one of my warlocks, came across you in an alley and portaled you here," Magnus looked utterly pleased by that. "It was greatly appreciated."

The High Warlock's omega. Jace remembered hearing those words in the alley. It made him think of the other instances he'd been referred to as such by warlocks. Omega Bane. Jace had ignored it for weeks now. Maybe because he… liked the sound of it. Maybe because he'd gone through yet another identity crisis, gone from being a Wayland to being a Morgenstern to Luke and Clary trying to make him a Fray to… not being anyone, really, because he didn't know who his parents were, just that Valentine and Jocelyn weren't it. He currently had no real last name, not really.

"Why do your warlocks think that I am your omega?"

"Because you are, honey," Magnus raised one eyebrow, his fingers gently tracing Jace's face. "You're mine, and I take care of what belongs to me."

Jace flushed, his head racing at Magnus' words. He'd never dared to ask what they were, but it seemed that Magnus had a pretty clear idea of what they were. Reaching out, Jace took Magnus' wrist to pull him down onto the bed with him and, slow and with a wince, Jace rolled over to snuggle up to his alpha. Magnus hummed pleased, wrapping an arm around his waist.

~*~ The End ~*~