#i think kate just needs to be able to go feral | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oxxmikaxxo · 3 months ago

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It's that kind of chapter where you need like an hour to just sit and think about life, because dear god.

The omega has every right to hate them. To hate John. I don't know how they're going to fix this. Gods, I hope they will, because I don't know if I'm strong enough to see them all break apart 🫡

Thank god we have Dr Keller, because I don't know what we would do without her. She really is the best. I feel so bad for her too, because seeing our omega like that must be so hard.

Simon's pov was so hard to read. We all know just how much he's going to hate himself for what he had to do and even if our omega will find it in herself to forgive him, I'm not sure he'll be able to forgive himself.

Damn you John 😭😭😭 I know you didn't mean bad, but goddamn it! Good thing that Kate gave him a reality check. Though seeing him so broken hurt more than I expected it to. But I'm glad he's ready to fight for them.

Johnny and Kyle. Can we take these two for ice cream? It's such a good mix, the fact that Johnny is angry, because yes he had to witness their omega in her feral state, of course he's angry. And then there's Kyle, who's still trying to keep things civil??? Honestly, I feel like Kyle needs to be worshipped by the boys when everything will get better, because he is doing gods work right now and deserves the world for it.

Rory, you beautiful person, thank you so much for giving us another amazing chapter 🧡🧡🧡

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 35: Threads

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

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 11,740 words

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

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

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Screaming.

Someone is screaming.

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

It’s ringing in your own head.

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

This isn’t a safe space anymore.

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

Your throat burns, raw and painful with every breath.

It’s you.

You’re screaming.

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

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

Simon.

“Simon!”

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

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

She’s going to hurt someone else too.

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

There won’t be any coming back from that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has to save you.

He can’t let all of this go to waste.

They’ll never recover if they lose you now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heart attack, stroke, organ failure.

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

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

Pain.

You’re in pain.

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

There’s no escaping it.

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

Nowhere is safe anymore.

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

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

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

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

You’re crying.

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

Your mind.

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

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

You know it. It’s familiar.

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

Wake up.

Wake up!

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

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

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

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

“Oi! None of that.”

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

“Open your eyes again for me, love.”

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

Darkness makes you vulnerable.

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

No.

No more darkness.

You want the light.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was purposeful.

You did it to save yourself.

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

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

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

Leather. Eucalyptus. Warmth. Alpha.

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

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

It might be.

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

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

She’s not wrong.

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

You hate it.

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

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

You'll always be a second thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re alone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You should be happy.

You should be ecstatic.

You should be relieved.

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

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

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

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

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

They betrayed you in the end.

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

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

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

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

You have nothing more to say to him.

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

What happened this time?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has half a mind to let him go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still sore?”

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

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

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

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

Some people do use it to numb the pain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wouldn’t let him leave.

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

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

Base.

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

The job always comes first.

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

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

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

Now you wish they would.

“Has she said anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s not even capable of doing that anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sacrifice was you.

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

The sacrifice was you.

And he played right into their hands.

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

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

How long have you been silently screaming?

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

That’s what he’s supposed to do.

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

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

Something has pulled you from the sweet arms of sleep.

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

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

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

“Hi, darlin’.”

No. No, no, no, no.

“Miss me? It’s been a long time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not again. Please, not again.

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

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

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

Where is your pack?

“Easy, easy. You’re alright.”

You know that voice.

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

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

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

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

“You’re okay. Breathe for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where is your pack?

Phil was never here. It was just a nightmare.

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

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

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

Healing.

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

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

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

Why would they want a broken, angry omega?

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

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

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

How easily everything crumbled.

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

Do you want to put it back together again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Comfort.

Then you came along.

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

And he threw it all away.

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

The bond.

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

It’s all his fault.

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

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

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

Now you’re not even smoldering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hates himself for it.

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

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

He hasn’t gone to see you at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Find their missing captain. Find their missing alpha.

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

John.

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

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

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

Not a medical emergency, then.

He sought out some liquid comfort instead.

The thought makes Kyle’s chest twinge still.

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

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

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

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

John would be pissed when he woke up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a good option.” Johnny shrugs.

“It’s our only option.” Simon says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You have to come first.

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

The alpha comes first.

No, the omega comes first.

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

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writingmysanity · 2 years ago

Text

Lullaby

Prompt: Lullaby

Pairing: Viktor x reader (Domestic!Viktor- does this have its own tag yet?? it should, its hot.)

Word count: 616

A/N: I am sorry that i have been so inconsistent on posting. I am trying '^^ mental stuff. Am getting better. i think. this is helping. If you have sent in a request, I am working on it. This is for my domestication of a feral scientist bit. it brings me much serotonin.

Humming to yourself, you fight to keep your eyes open, arms still automatically bouncing Aryn gently. Not even her shrill cries seem to be enough to keep you up much longer. Normally, Viktor would have long ago taken over, but Heigmerdinger claimed an emergency. He has been gone since the early hours of the morning.

Sighing, you glance out of the high windows, the only light shining through them is the yellowish radiance of the street lamps just outside.

“Come on, sweet girl,” you whisper, voice thick with sleep, head lulling down to stare at her as you bounce her, her cries softening. “I know you need sleep- mama, too.” you must have been more tired than you realized because you didn't hear the sound of the door opening and closing, nor the tell tell sound of Viktor’s cane. In fact, you didn't notice him at all until his arm slid around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. Yelping softly, your head whips to look at him, clutching Aryn to your chest, heaving a deep sigh.

“Oh, Viktor,” you hum, offering him the best smile you can manage. The bags under his eyes nearly match your own. He smiles softly back, pressing his lips to your cheek. “Welcome home.”

“Hand her over, Dove,” he hums, moving to shift in front of you, opening his arms to the bundle wrapped to your chest. You frown, shaking your head.

“You must be exhausted,” you grouch, body already reaching to set her in his arms. He chuckles, pressing his lips to your forehead, cradling Aryn to him with one arm, the other holding you there for a moment, allowing him to breathe you in with a deep sigh.

“You more than myself, Dove. Please, you need rest. Go lie down,” he mumbles into your hair, rubbing his thumb behind your ear. “You deserve it.” sighing, you look down at her, her fussing lessening now that she is in his arms.

“Daddy’s girl,” you gripe playfully, grinning when his shoulders start to shake in laughter, knocking into your own.

“I will be with you as soon as she is asleep,” he promises, lips brushing just above your eye. Nuzzling into your temple, he lets go of you in favor of taking hold of his cane once more. “I crave nothing more than sleep, as well.” sighing, you nod, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before heading towards the bedroom. Before you're even able to flop onto its surface, you hear the soft groveling sound of your parents’ record player clicking in the background before a familiar tune starts. Smiling to yourself, you cuddle under the blankets, dozing off listening to Viktor sing to Aryn gently, her cries dying down quickly.

You wake a few hours later to the soft patter of rain, and the gentle cooing of Aryn in the next room. Blinking the sleep from your eyes, you push yourself up, looking to your side. Viktor didn't make it to the bed. Sighing softly, you shake your head with a smile as you stand to make your way to the living room. Once there, you have to stifle your laughter, seeing Aryn swaddled and placed gently in the portable bassinet Viktor and Jayce had designed for her, eyes open wide, chattering away to her father who is lying half on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes, mouth ajar, a soft snore acting as ambient noise for the now bustling baby girl who has locked eyes with you.

Allowing yourself a soft laugh, you sneak over to her, tugging her to you.

“Shh, let’s let papa rest, little one. He needs it.”

____

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#poor sweet viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor x reader #viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #viktor league of legends #viktor the machine herald #viktor x you #the machine herald x you #the machine herald #the machine herald x reader #domestication of a feral scientist #domestic!viktor #papa!vik #papa!viktor

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newtonsheffield · 2 years ago

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Are you doing spicy Sunday this week??

Been wondering what farmer Anthony is like when he and Kate decide to have a baby? Or when she’s actually pregnant?

Hmmmm... this one is probably going to give away a little plot but here we go. Anthony trying very hard to keep his breeding kink in check for his lady wife who thinks he could stand to be a little less in check.

Anthony couldn't fucking stand it.

He was sat outside the post office, watching his wife carefully, something boiling away in his blood as he watched her head tilt back, laughing at whatever Davey Atwood had just said. Her eyes were shining in the midday sun, a stray curl tickling the back of her neck where it had escaped its restraint, probably from the way he'd seen her, slipping into her dress just before they left (the house mercifully quiet with the children dispatched to Daphne's to help with the new baby). He hadn't been able to help himself when he'd seen her, the swell of her stomach visible, growing round with his child, so beautiful his chest had felt tight as he'd walked her backwards, falling it his knees in front of her, pulling off her undergarments with a sharp

I told you not to fucking wear these, Kate.

He could still taste her on his tongue even now, still feel the scratches her fingernails had left on his scalp, still hear the groan that had fallen from her lips after she'd fallen apart for him and he'd forced her to taste herself on his tongue.

"Please Anthony."

He'd nearly given in. Nearly let himself slip between her legs and lose himself in her, desperate to claim her as his again but he'd held back, clenching his jaw.

"No, sweetheart, you'll have to be good when we're in town."

And now he was burning.

Davey Atwood, the stupid little prick who couldn't even tell barley from wheat, for his part was leaning against the door grinning at Anthony's wife as though he was the bloody cock of the north. Staring at her, right there in the village with the swell of her stomach evident against her dress. The fucking bollocks on this man.

Ever since she'd told him they were expecting a child, ever since he;d seen the swell of her stomach with her departure from Kent still so fresh in his bones it was like something inside him had snapped.

Whenever he saw her, whenever he lay pressed against her, their child between them, kicking gently under the palm of his hand he couldn't help it. Something primal and feral rose in his chest, a need to have her, to leave her gasping against him, clinging to him, his wife. His and no one else's. Something smug that purred in his chest whenever one of the matrons said-

"My My, look at you. Baby on the way, Mrs Bridgerton."

His jaw tight as his chest puffed. "Yes, we're very excited."

He watched now, his blood boiling in his chest as Kate bid Atwood farewell, making her way down the steps the sunshine catching in her hair, bouncing off her cheekbones, so beautiful. His. Completely.

"Are you ready for home, darling?" Kate said lightly, her hand squeezing his bicep gently.

Anthony felt himself twitch, his jaw clenching as he nodded, "Yes. Let's go home."

Heat prickled down his spine as his hands tightened on the reins the horse plodding along in front of the cart. He could feel Kate pressed against him, her arm along the length of his, her leg pressed unnecessarily against him her breath puffing against his neck as she spoke, about what Anthony had no idea. He couldn't stop thinking about her. About how she'd feel against him. How she'd feel slipping against him, how it would feel to bury himself inside her as he found his peak, filling her.

Anthony pulled the horse to an abrupt stop off the side of the road, the sun beating down on his neck already.

"Anthony?"

Kate was staring back at him, her eyes wide with confusion as he sighed irritatedly.

"Get down."

"What?"

"Kate down from the cart, I can't fucking stand it."

Her eyes darkened immediately, a convulsive swallow bobbing in her throat as she stepped down making her way back from the edge of the road, into the small copse of trees, a sly, slow little smile tossed over her shoulder at him.

Anthony's heart was already pounding in his chest as he jumped down, ignoring the irritated huff from the horse, sprinting after his wife, catching her just as she disappeared from sight of the road.

he reached out, his arms closing around her waist, pulling her back against his chest, pressing his nose against her neck, breathing her scent in deeply as he walked her forward, his hand bracing them against the tree.

"I've wanted you all afternoon, sweetheart."

Kate let out a shuddering breath as he caught hold of the hem of her dress, skating his fingers over her thighs, nudging them apart with his knee.

"Have me then."

A groan escaped both of them as his fingers slipped between her legs, the wet heat of her drawing him in, his eyes fluttering closed against her cheek.

"God, Kate, were you like this the whole time we were in town?"

Kate nodded desperately, her hips starting to roll against his fingers as they slipped over her, pressing back against his own hips "All I think about is you since the baby. I just want more."

a groan fell from his lips as Kate's breath caught in her throat, his fingers sinking deeper and deeper his mouth dry as heat pooled in his stomach, his breeches tightening as he started to grind against her. Her movements were becoming more erratic, one hand covering his on the tree trunk, the other cupping his neck holding him close as her lips slanted over his desperately, falling apart around him.

The second Kate slumped forward against the tree trunk whatever had been left of his self control snapped. Kate's hands were trying to fumble at the fastening of his breeches a whine rising in her throat

Please Anthony. Please please please

Anthony stilled her hands, placing them back on the tree, his hands on her hips, tilting them back against his, shoving roughly at her skirts, bunching them up around her hips.

From the very first snap of his hips Anthony was lost to it. It was as though his vision was tinted red, something in his chest forcing him to thrive forward, his blood boiling, jaw tightening as he ground desperately against his wife. There was nothing like this, nothing in the world like the slide of their skin together, the feeling of her tight around him as he thrived forward marking her as his.

He couldn't breathe for it. For the way that she moved against him, her gasps and moans echoing in the woods, the mother of his child, desperate for him. Desperate for the entire world to know what she'd let him do. That she welcomed him at night, letting him slide between her legs and fuck against her until he came undone. That she wanted it desperately. Welcomed any tiny depraved little thing. Let him fuck her in the fields while the wind whipped around them.

Anthony!

His name gasped from her lips forced a growl from his chest and he couldn't take it anymore as she writhed against him, so close to falling apart again.

That's it sweetheart, scream. Fuck, I love seeing you like this, desperate for me. Fucking full of me already and you still want more. Take it, Kate, go on. You're such a good girl, Kate. Fuck!

Kate shuddered against him, his name screamed through the tiny clearing and his self control, coiled tight at the base of his spine snapped as his vision blurred, the entire world tilting on its axis for a moment, and everything went still.

Kate was still shuddering as she straightened, turning to face him finally, her back against the tree as her lips found his gently, her fingers pushing his hair back from his damp forehead.

"Lovely"

Anthony let out a breathless chuckle. groaning a little, "Any chance you could stop looking like this? It's rather distracting my love."

Kate sighed, kissing the end of his nose lightly. "I don't think so. Poor Anthony." She straightened, patting her hair back into place a little. "I have an awful feeling I'm going to be pregnant rather a lot."

"You absolutely fucking are. Better get used to it now."

#you might have some bruises #spicy sunday🌶#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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forest-of-cheem · 2 years ago

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my initial reaction to the power of the doctor was… well. bloody loving every single minute of it.

now that i’ve had some time to think it all over…

(under the cut because spoilers!!)

thirteen

this really did feel like such an excellent send-off for her.

she might well have made my favourite regeneration scene of new!who. the way she was so desperate for more time… but in the end, went into the sunrise with peace and happiness, and no regrets except wanting to know what comes next… and the visuals, on the clifftop with light shooting off in all directions…

the AI hologram!! i love that it was responsive rather than just reeling off the standard “if you’re seeing this, then i’m dead” message.

i love how expressive whittaker is. just. her face is doing so much, all the time, and it’s brilliant.

yaz

she’s come so far…

watching her pilot the tardis with her notes!! and even being able to catch ace as she was plummeting from the top of a building!!

i love her literally shoving the master to the ground and taking the tardis with her.

not to mention the way she fooled his ass, and forced him out of the doctor.

she carried the doctor!! yaz really stepped up and said i will be the goddamn hero today!!

i get the sadness over no thasmin kiss, but i guess. to me it makes sense, in a way. it’d be more painful for them to have some intimacy now when 13 is right on the brink of regenerating. and i’m a sucker for a tragic romance.

especially when new!who has only really seen two doctor/companion couples get romantic kisses in its entire run - 11/river, and 10/astrid. (yes, rose kisses tentoo, but he’s part donna, so i would argue it doesn’t entirely count.)

idk. what i’m trying to say is: romantic associations with the doctor rarely end well, for multiple reasons. that we got explicit confirmation of 13 and yaz’s mutual feelings at all is enough for me.

the master

dhawan is the best new!who incarnation of the master and i will die on that hill

inserting himself into all of those paintings was so uncalled for and so unnecessary, and i loved it

ra ra rasputin… artistic poetry. a masterpiece of the screen.

the master wearing 13’s outfit?? i am half-feral. i need more of it.

not trying to be rude, but i genuinely don’t get the people complaining that his plan/motives were too confusing/unclear. like… it was pretty clear to me…

“don’t make me go back to being me” i WILL cry.

playing the recorder when yaz abandons him…

and the way he squealed when the elevator doors closed on the way down to the bunker?? this episode really said here’s all the things you never knew you wanted sacha dhawan to do.

he was delightfully unhinged throughout this entire episode. if rtd doesn’t bring him back, it’ll be a damn crime.

fourteen

look, i love 10. he’s my favourite doctor. but i am… conflicted about his return.

for one thing, i simply refuse to refer to him as 14 when that’s supposed to be ncuti gatwa!!

also, 13 leaves full of optimism and excitement, and then the first trailer for next year sounds all gloomy and severe?? i’m not feeling it.

also, i already feel like those specials simply will not compare to POTD. this was THE anniversary special for me, and it wasn’t even really intended as such. this ep had old doctors and companions alike, and so far the 60th is three episodes of… 10 and donna. and that’s it.

some of my bitterness here may well be the fact that i’m already sick and tired of seeing people all ~hooray the boring mediocre woman is gone it’s time for my favourite MAN doctor, yay, doctor who is saved!!~ like. shut the fuck up already.

everything else

no surprise that dan left, but tbh i feel like that could have been reworked into him leaving at the end of the preceding ep. it feels weird having him only at the very beginning and then near the end.

gonna be honest, before this ep i thought kate stewart was a perfectly decent character, but simply didn’t care much about her. but she was excellent in this episode, and now i definitely want to see more of her!!

the group for past companions is such a fantastic idea and i’m amazed it’s not been done before. everything about that bit was perfect. and it was so cool seeing classic companions! even if i didn’t have any real idea who they were!

this episode is gonna be what makes me watch classic who. i tried several years ago but… i got bored halfway through the second episode. keep meaning to go back, but i never have. now i definitely intend to.

on that note, i thought this was a great introduction to ace and tegan. their bits with the AI hologram were very sweet and have left me really wanting to see their classic stories.

i really thought vinder was gonna be the timeless child daddy, and instead. he was just there. he helped yaz, fair enough, but what was he even there for in the first place?? are he, bel and karvanista investigating alien shenanigans too now??

me, pretending to be shocked when graham arrives, despite having known for months about that set photo circulating of him and dan together…

all in all, this was a top-notch episode for me. my only quibbles are with dan’s early exit, and vinder’s presence feeling a bit random… and tennant’s return that may or may not go down well next year. idk. i have faith in rtd to deliver a fantastic era, but i have my doubts as to whether this is the way to kickstart it.

all else aside, jodie whittaker and mandip gill have made one of my favourite tardis teams, and sacha dhawan has cemented his place as my favourite master. and despite most of my actual predictions for this ep being wrong, i was right about this: it was chaotic, it was heartbreaking, and it was wonderful.

#doctor who #dw spoilers #the power of the doctor #this... turned into a very long post...#but i have so much praise to give!!#definitely among my favourite chibnall era episodes and even more definitely among my top new!who episodes overall #the only real problem is that now i want more of 13 hanging out with old companions and chatting with old doctors!#rtd give us the spin-off of 13 becoming one of the other vestiges of consciousness and spending her days with the other doctors #i don't even care what they do just make it happen

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triviareads · 3 years ago

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The show got a 2 season order to start and I honestly think the casting director didn’t consider beyond Anthony.

Eight seasons remains unlikely but wouldn’t you at least cast very strong actors through like the eldest five? I think Claudia and Luke T could reasonably carry their own season, but were they the absolute best they could get? Like how do go from Regé to Luke Thompson as a leading man? And I really like him as Benedict and find him to be a huge improvement from the book version. But he doesn’t look like he could be on a step-back cover and the show is selling a fantasy. I don’t think JB has that look either but he’s still handsome and even more, is the best actor in the show and pretty perfectly cast as Anthony. In his case it evens out.

Luke N’s casting I shouldn’t dignify with a response 😭 Colin is canonically the hottest brother IIRC? I just don’t understand. There are absolutely hot 20 something British actors out there. Bridgerton doesn’t require thespians, just super attractive and charming. So why him?

I agree. This is meant to be based on a romance novel series so you need people who are either classically good looking, or have a helluva lot of charisma and chemistry with their love interest (or both). Rege was very good looking and smoldered well with the material he was given, JB, even if you don't think he's good looking, was hella feral when it came to Kate lol (the way that man's entire body would like, hone in on Kate was great), and as for Luke T, I'd like to think he can translate his skills into having good chemistry bc I did feel something in the looks between Benedict and Henry Granville so if the right love interest is cast then he might be able to pull it off, I think. As for Luke N... that was a miscast, I think.

#bridgerton #ask

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twdeadfanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Feral Pt.7

Daryl Dixon x OC

Summary: Daryl is on a run with Rick when, in a warehouse, they find a woman who attacks them, and who reminds Daryl to a lioness…or a feral cat, and who doesn’t seem to trust anyone, including them, but Daryl finds himself going back to the warehouse, trying to get that feral to go with him to the prison, and to earn her trust.

Chapter 7/10

You can find my other fics in my masterlist.

Weeks kept coming and going, and Dana seemed more and more integrated, even if she was still quiet and not a people’s person, but she was one of them now…she still stayed at Daryl’s side, though, and he couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy it, because he did, even if those unwelcome twirls kept partying in his belly sometimes or his heart beat a bit a too fast now and then when they were together.

Daryl liked to go out to the woods with her, patrolling and tracking, hunting for their people, he liked to see her getting better at it each day, he liked their quiet conversations and he liked even more when it seemed like they were able to communicate without words. He liked it when he was working on any vehicle and she was sat down near, a silent presence, either reading or watching him working. He liked the way she smiled to him and the affectionate touches she sometimes gave him, even if it made his heart and belly do weird things.

They were in a run now, it’d been a big one and everything seemed to have gone well, Maggie and Glenn were happy with it, they had found stuff and they hadn’t suffered any accident. Daryl was loading stuff into the bags attached to the bike when he felt something nudging his arm and he smiled, looking to the side to find Dana there.

“Hey, cat, you ready?”

She nodded, getting some more stuff into the bags, and then they got onto the bike. Dana wrapped her arms around him, at first she always held to the chassis of the bike , but for a while now, she’d been holding to him, and Daryl liked it more than he’d want to admit. They had been riding for a while, at the lead of the cars, when suddenly Dana tugged at his shirt.

“Stop.”

Daryl did so, frowning, looking at her over his shoulder as she looked around. “What?” She didn’t need to answer, though, he heard it then, growls of walkers not too far and what sounded like people fighting them. He jumped off the bike, waving at the cars. “Someone’s in trouble!” He shouted at them before he ran towards the noise, already taking his knife, Dana behind him, getting into the woods.

They didn’t have to go far to see a woman and a man fighting off walkers, but only the woman had a knife, putting down more walkers than probably she could alone, while the man seemed to try to desperately tug back a knife that by the look of it, had broken into a walker’s skull. Daryl was already sinking his knife into a walker’s head when he realized that there was another woman not far, on the ground, looking at everything with wide, scared eyes. Walkers were going to her but she wasn’t getting up, and Daryl realized that she must be hurt.

He looked back and saw Maggie, Glenn, and the others, and he looked at Dana. “Take care of these ones.” He waved at the walkers, he knew she could deal with them and she had the others to help now, and he rushed to put down the walkers going to the woman on the ground before they could get her. Once there didn’t seem to be any threat around, Daryl looked at the woman, who was looking at him from the ground with wide eyes. “You okay?”

She shook her head. “I fell and I can’t put weight on my ankle.”

“Alright, come on…” Daryl reached down for the woman, helping her to get up and she leaned onto him, groaning and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Daryl helped her to walk to the others, feeling awkward, but he wasn’t going to push her away, it looked like she had broken or strained her ankle.

There didn’t seem to be more walkers around, and so Glenn asked the usual questions to bring people into their place, and it was decided they’d be taken in. The woman was still clinging to him, and so Daryl helped her to walk to their vehicles, even he still felt awkward.

“Thank you,” the woman smiled at him. “For everything really.”

“Ain’t nothin’…” Daryl shrugged, looking down.

“It was, you helped us with those things, they were so many, and you certainly saved me!” The woman insisted, still holding to him, and Daryl just shrugged awkwardly again.

“Ain’t the only one.” Everyone had run to help. “And Dana’s the one who heard you all.” He nodded towards Dana, who was already sat down on the bike, looking at him.

“Is she your girlfriend?” The woman asked and for some reason, it made Daryl blush red, his heart and stomach doing that weird thing, and he could feel his face heating up, burning. He shook his hair, trying to hide his face, embarrassed. Why the hell did he had to get so flustered because of that woman asking if Dana was his girl and why it made him feel like that…no, he didn’t want to think on why.

“No, she’s…she’s Dana…she…” Daryl stammered. “She’s…uh…”

“Alright, guys, let’s get going,” Maggie said while Glenn helped the other people, who still seemed a bit in shock, into one of the cars, and so Daryl helped the woman into the car, careful so she wouldn’t hurt her ankle more.

“I’m Kate, by the way,” she said once she was seated next to his friends, smiling at him.

“Daryl.”

“Thanks again, Daryl.”

“Yeah, thanks!” The man next to her said. “To you all.”

“’was nothin’…” Daryl murmured awkwardly again.

He went towards his bike where Dana was waiting. “You did well,” he told her, reaching out to nudge her arm, though that woman, Kate’s words, came to his mind, and he found himself flustered at the gesture, even if he had gotten used to sharing those little affectionate touches with Dana, that made him feel warm in a weird way. “Those people are alive ‘cause of you.”

“Maybe.” Dana shrugged, and when Daryl got into the bike, instead of holding to him in the usual way she did, she wrapped her arms around him as if she were hugging him. It made him feel all sort of things in his belly, thoughts storming in his head, thoughts Daryl didn’t dwell on, and Kate’s words made it worse.

Daryl kicked the bike into gear and tried to focus just on the drive.

It was late when Daryl finally could go to his cell. They had to introduce the new people to Rick and the council, who had their own questions and explanations, then they had to be checked by Hershel, who confirmed that Kate had a sprained ankle, and somehow then Daryl had found himself helping her walk again, that time to the infirmary, since he’d been at the council even if he’d wanted to blur away.

Dana had been there too, even though she didn’t like to be around so many people, but they’d wanted to ask her opinion too, and everyone else’s who had helped in the rescue, and wanted to congratulate her for having heard the struggle. She just shrugged awkwardly and left to her cell as soon as she could, and Daryl wished he could do the same. He guessed someone else could help Kate to walk or find her some crutches or something, and so as soon as he could, he headed to his cell, though first he stopped at Dana’s.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked and Dana nodded from her bunk, but then patted the spot near her, and so Daryl walked in, sitting down next to her bashfully, feeling all weird again, and he hoped he wasn’t blushing like an idiot, like if they had never sat side to side before. “Somethin’ wrong?”

Dana shook her head. “I’m a cat?” She asked, and Daryl frowned at her, confused at the question.

“Uh…yeah?” Daryl didn’t know what else to say, and then Dana nodded and leaned towards him, as she began to rub her head against his shoulder, not nudging him like she sometimes did, but actually rubbing the side of her head against his arm. It made Daryl get flustered even if he didn’t flinch, and he felt those damned twirls in his stomach as his heart did something weird, but he also couldn’t stop his laugh at it. “The hell you doin’?”

“Marking you,” Dana said, rubbing her cheek against the side of his head and it felt good enough that Daryl almost leaned into it before she pulled back.

“What you mean?”

“Mine.”

“What?” Daryl blinked at her, feeling his cheeks burning.

“Mine.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say, flustered, and Dana wasn’t saying anything else, just looking at him. “Let’s uh…let’s …” He stammered, flustered. “Let’s get some rest…let’s go out huntin’ tomorrow mornin’, yeah? So…yeah…rest…” Dana didn’t say anything, just nodded and lied down on the bed, looking at him. “Uh…goodnight.”

Daryl got up and left her cell, closing the door behind him as he knew she liked, and went to his, next to hers, dropping on the bed. He was a damn mess, he knew it, and he didn’t know what to do about it. If Kate’s words earlier asking if Dana was his girlfriend hadn’t messed him enough, Dana calling her hers had added more to it.

What did she mean? She meant hers as…as what? Yeah, he was her friend, her person to rely on, to support her, to care for her, yeah he was all that…was that what she meant? What was that about? Why now? Did she mean like…like hers in some other way…would that ever cross her mind…

Daryl hated how he was blushing all over again. He was trying to guess Dana’s intentions when he couldn’t even deal with his own emotions and feelings. When Kate asked if Dana was his girlfriend, how it made him feel…did he want Dana to be his girlfriend? Just the idea made him feel flustered and kind of like an idiot too.

He did like what he had with Dana. He liked to be with her, in the woods, or around the prison, working on his bike…he liked to talk to her, even if there weren’t that many words or big conversations, but she talked to him more than to anyone else, which made him feel all weird, and he liked their silences too, they could communicate like that. She made his heart do crazy things sometimes, and those damn twirls in his belly that he couldn’t stop, and he looked at her or thought on her and that damn stupid smile would tug at his lips no matter what.

What he really considering that maybe he had a stupid teenager crush in Dana? Wasn’t he too old for that shit? The idea made him feel like an idiot and made him blush even more furiously, his face felt like it was burning. Why did he have to think all that shit. Couldn’t he be content with what they had, he loved his relationship with Dana, his time with her made him feel…he didn’t know, but it was good, but was he really considering if maybe he’d want to have something like Maggie and Glenn had… He felt like such an idiot, he didn’t think he could get even more flustered. He was a damn mess. Why had he started with all this nonsense.

Besides, the fact that suddenly he’d become a mess when thinking about Dana and their relationship, didn’t mean that Dana would want anything like that. Why would she. Yeah, she spent time with him, cared for him, yeah, she was his friend, sure she liked him more than anyone else, and now she was saying that silly thing of him being hers…so…maybe…but nah, that didn’t mean she’d like to, what? Be his girlfriend or some of that shit? The thought sent those damned twirls to Daryl’s belly again and somehow he got even more flustered. Nah…all that didn’t mean that she’d like to kiss him or whatever…and by the way, did he want to kiss her?

Daryl turned on the bed to bury his blushed, burning face onto the pillow almost as if to suffocate himself, or at least his brain. He wanted it to shut up, to stop all this nonsense. It was getting him crazy. Couldn’t he just fall asleep and call it a day? It wasn’t like he wasn’t tired, it’d been a damn long day. Couldn’t just his heart, belly, and mind shut up and let him sleep for once.

Damn, he wished he could shut down his brain.

Early the next morning, after not much sleep since his brain, indeed, didn’t shut up, Daryl went to meet with Dana and go to the woods. He’d fallen asleep very late and he’d overslept, though it was still early enough, quite a few people were still sleeping, but later than their usual time to go to the woods.

“Lazy.”

Daryl heard Dana’s teasing voice as she approached him and he scoffed, nudging her shoulder with his, though he couldn’t help his blush. If Dana knew the thoughts that had kept him awake, he’d probably die out of embarrassment. Everything came back to him, couldn’t help it, and he cleared his throat, awkward, looking away from Dana. She tugged at his sleeve to make him look at her, though, and then she smiled, giving him a protein bar. Breakfast, Daryl guessed. Somehow it made him feel all weird all over again, those twirls in his belly, and that damn stupid smile tugging at his lips.

“Thanks…” He murmured, taking the bar and looking away bashfully as he removed the wrap and began munching on it. “Come on…”

They hadn’t gotten out of the prison when Daryl heard a voice calling for him and Dana, and he found Kate sat down on a chair near the window, a pair of old fashioned crutches like Hershel’s near her.

“Hey, you good?” Daryl greeted awkwardly while Dana nodded at the woman but remained silent.

“Yeah, I’m fine, much better thanks to you. You all.” She grinned. “Hershel got me these crutches but I’m useless with them, I’m tripping all the time, I don’t think I can trust myself with stairs or anything like that.”

“You’ll get better.” Daryl guessed that was the good thing to say.

“Yeah…Hershel said my ankle should be better soon enough.”

“Good.” Daryl nodded awkwardly and turned to leave, but Kate spoke again.

“Hey, I was wondering…I bet you’re busy, but today looks like it’s going to be a wonderful day, and I don’t want to be stuck inside now that I can be outside but safe, inside your fences,” Kate said. “But I really don’t trust myself with the crutches, so I was wondering…if maybe you could help me walk outside? Like to the orchard or something?”

“Oh…” Daryl frowned, looking around to see if there were somebody else non-busy around, with no luck. Anyway, it’d take him less than five minutes to walk Kate to the orchard, he and Dana could go hunting after it, it wasn’t too late. “Okay.”

“Thanks, really.” Kate grinned at him, getting up from the chair, supporting an arm on the wall and then already reaching out to wrap her other arm around him, and Daryl tried not to flinch despite being unable not to feel awkward.

“Hunting?” Dana asked.

“Yeah, just…let’s get her to one of those picnic tables outside first,” Daryl said. “Can you get her crutches?” Dana shrugged but picked them up, and slowly, Daryl helped Kate to limp outside and towards the orchard, and then he helped her sit down on one of the picnic tables that faced the plants in which Rick was already working. If Kate needed to move, he could help her. “There you go.”

“Thanks again.” Kate smiled, letting go of him slowly as she settled on the seat, and Dana dropped the crutches next to her on the table.

“Was nothin’.” Daryl shrugged bashfully. “We’re gonna head out huntin’.”

“Thanks for that too, the food,” Kate said. “Be careful out there.”

“Yeah…” Daryl nodded awkwardly and then turned to follow Dana, who was already walking away.

They walked through the woods quietly, which wasn’t unusual, but still, Daryl thought it felt different…or maybe it was all that stupid shit in his head, all those thoughts about Dana that had kept him awake for most of the night. Maybe…maybe Dana had realized it, somehow? Nah, that was even more stupid, it was impossible. Daryl peeked at her…she seemed to be looking around and looking for tracks, as always, but Daryl couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Still, he tried to stop it and stop his silly, overthinking mind, and focus on patrolling and trying to find something to hunt and bring back to the prison.

“She wants you,” Dana said out of the blue after a while, and Daryl frowned, confused.

“What?”

“Kate.”

“What with her?”

Dana rolled her eyes. “She wants you!”

Daryl felt his cheeks heating up when he realized what Dana meant. “She doesn’t!”

“Pff…” Dana rolled her eyes again. “She does.”

“She doesn’t!” Daryl snapped again, embarrassed. “That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” Dana retorted, walking faster, leaving Daryl more than confused. Was she mad? What was that stupidity of Kate wanting him? Dana wasn’t making sense.

“Hey! The hell did I do to annoy you now?!” Daryl walked behind her but Dana didn’t stop, just scoffed as she kept walking fast.

It was crazy, maybe she thought that he wanted something with Kate? That if he did, it’d mean that he would push Dana away, stop spending time with her? Nothing and nobody in the world could make him do that…but maybe she got that crazy idea in her mind? He’d just tried to help Kate around when she had needed it, like he tried to do for all their people.

“Dana, hey, wait! Wait a second!” Daryl reached out to hold her arm and she flinched it away, but she turned to look at him, seeming upset. “Hey, cat, come on…” Daryl chewed on his lip, shy and unsure about what to say. “She doesn’t want me and anyway, I don’t want her.”

“No?” Dana frowned and Daryl couldn’t believe that she was asking.

“No…and I wouldn’t want to stop going out with you or…or nothing…” Daryl shrugged, shyly.

Dana nodded, seeming less upset, and then she turned to walk at a normal pace. “She does want you.”

“Yeah, sure.” Daryl scoffed, Dana was being ridiculous today. “Why would she.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

Dana scoffed too and turned to look at him. “Idiot.”

“Whatever,” Daryl murmured, and now he was the one who walked faster, he was starting to feel agitated about the whole thing.

Daryl felt Dana’s hand on his arm and he went to yank it but she didn’t let him, tugging at him, and Daryl turned to face her, about to snap at her to stop the nonsense and leave him alone, when suddenly Dana’s lips were on his. Daryl made a sound of surprise, couldn’t help it, almost move away in shock but at the same time, his body didn’t want to, and his eyes closed on his own accord while those familiar twirls seemed to erupt in his belly and his heart went crazy, even though he was too shocked to return the kiss.

Dana pulled back, looking at him, but she kept her hands on his shoulders, and Daryl’s skin seemed to burn under her touch, lips tingling after her brief kiss. “Why wouldn’t she want you,” she said and Daryl had a million reasons in his head as for why Kate or anyone else wouldn’t want him in the way that Dana meant, but he couldn’t care for it now, couldn’t voice it, because the only thing in his mind after that kiss was the wonder of maybe, maybe Dana actually wanting him like that.

“You uh…you…” He stammered with his words, shy and nervous as he swallowed hard, part of him was as tense and on alert as to when he fought walkers, urging him to flee or fight, but another part of him didn’t want to flee neither to fight that thing, that scary thing in his belly but that also felt oh so good.

Dana seemed to know what he meant and she nodded. “I want you.”

Daryl swallowed hard again, trying to regain his sense, trying to fight those damn twirls in his belly, if those were of excitement or fear, he didn’t know, his pulse was picking up, and hell, he wanted to kiss her so bad again, why hadn’t he realized how he wanted to do that before. All that mess of emotions that he’d been feeling and wondering about just got worse, way worse, almost too overwhelming. Part of him still urged him to fight it, it sounded scary, something dangerous, a bad idea, urged him to run away, but he didn’t.

“You uh…want…want me…want me how?” He stammered, forcing himself to ask, looking down and blushing up to his ears, feeling like his face was about to burst into flames.

Dana had just kissed him, so that couldn’t mean that she wanted him as only a friend? Right…even if the idea of her wanting to kiss him and…and whatnot, felt crazy. But what did she want? Did she want them to kiss and make out and…and whatever, or did she want like an actual relationship? Daryl wondered how could he feel such panic at the idea while at the same time feeling such longing for it, a longing he hadn’t realized he felt but that now hit him with so much force, it was almost overwhelming.

“Want to be with you,” Dana murmured, shrugging, but before Daryl could force himself to ask how, again, she smiled as if she realized what was going through his head. “Want me to ask you out?” She said teasingly. “To ask you to be my boyfriend?”

Daryl scoffed, pushing away from her, everything felt like too much, too overwhelming, he felt silly and vulnerable in a way that he hated, and he felt as if he couldn’t deal with it anymore, everything was too much, and the idea of maybe Dana being just messing around made his throat tight, which just made him feel more agitated and like more of an idiot. Then, he felt Dana’s arms wrapping around him and her pressing herself against his back, hugging him, and he couldn’t fight it, couldn’t move away.

“Be my boyfriend,” Dana said quietly and Daryl turned to frown at her, his heart beating so fast, he couldn’t believe that they were really having this conversation. Dana frowned too as she looked at his face. “Don’t want to?” She began to let go of him, but Daryl did want it, even if the idea was scary and overwhelming, even if it made him nervous as hell, he couldn’t ignore the way in which she made him feel, he didn’t want to fight it, not anymore, and he reached to hold her hands before she pulled away.

“I want it,” he rasped, forced himself to push past his shyness and fear to say it aloud.

“You sure?” Dana asked him and Daryl swallowed hard, nodding.

“And you?” He asked back and Dana nodded, smiling softly. “Really?” Daryl couldn’t stop himself from asking, couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of Dana actually wanting something like that with him, to be with him like that, a relationship, not just the friendship that they had.

“Really.” Dana snorted but she smiled at him in a way that gave him those out of control butterflies again, even more when she reached out to caress the side of his head, pushing his hair away, and Daryl couldn’t help but lean into her touch. “You’re not stupid or an idiot,” she said quietly. “But you can be silly. Sometimes.”

Daryl snorted, he didn’t know what to say, feeling nervous but at the same time, his heart was out of control and butterflies were throwing such a party that it almost embarrassed him. He didn’t need to say anything, though, because Dana was kissing him again, and this time, he kissed her back.

“You still sure?” Dana whispered when she pulled back and Daryl nodded.

“Yeah…” He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet, leaning to hold his forehead against hers, not that Dana seemed to mind as she held him closer to her, and Daryl wondered why he hadn’t done that before, if it meant that he got to feel the way in which he was feeling now, a way in which he hadn’t felt before, and no matter it was still scary, it just felt so damn good.

Finally together! I love them so much!

If you liked this and have a moment, please leave me a comment with your thoughts, and reblogs are always more than welcome.

As always, excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon/oc #daryl dixon & oc #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd #daryl twd

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sparrowmoth · 2 years ago

Note

For the writers ask game 4,5, and 10 pls!! <33

@reckless-rider Thank you, Rider!! <3<3 4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

Ah, so many pretty words come to mind… ethereal, amaranthine, languid, askance, melancholy, sacrilege, awareness, florescent, deathless, auburn, willowy, immaculate.

“S” sounds are my absolute favourite, so I’m especially feral for any words with a prominent “S” sound.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

There are lines from some of my favourite books and poems that haunt me. I was just talking about one of those books earlier, so the first thing that comes to mind is the opening of Kate Green’s Bough Down: “June, black / Does it begin like this?”

I can’t explain it, but that line is always lingering close to the surface of my thoughts. I repeat it purposefully in my mind sometimes because I don’t want it to stop haunting me.

What does that mean to me? I guess that I don’t want to forget it—or more like… I don’t want to forget the feeling it gives me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to put a name to that feeling, but it’s peaceful. I like it. It’s a quote I sometimes latch onto for comfort of its familiarity, perhaps.

As for my own writing, hah, yes, in different ways it’s haunted me. The most significant has been… things I’ve written that have come to pass years later, not always good, which logically I tell myself is coincidence, but the anxious part of my brain whispers, “So it is written, so it shall be.”

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

Following from above, you could say my anxiety threatens to create a superstition out of coincidence, but that aside, nothing really comes to mind? I don’t have any special pens or lucky numbers or anything.

The closest thing I have to what could become superstition for others is just strong preferences, like for example I prefer to write in pyjamas and I have various instrumental music artists and playlists that I feel make me more productive, but… that’s less superstition and more just I have ADHD and my brain literally doesn’t work if I don’t cater to my own sensory needs lol.

Weird Questions for Writers

#reckless-rider #<3 #writeblr #ask games #the ask box #I sat here thinking very hard about writing superstitions lmao #every possible one is just 'nope that's just me being mentally ill' dajkgdjskgdjsk #I Am Self-Aware it's fine #thank you for the ask hun! <3

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altagraye · 3 years ago

Text

Big Big Love part 9

Maia age: 25

Dean age: 31

Sam age: 27

Quote:

"Pray God you can cope

I stand outside this woman's work

This woman's world

Ooh, it's hard on the man

Now his part is over

Now starts the craft of the father

I know you've got a little life in you yet

I know you've got a lot of strength left

I know you've got a little life in you yet

I know you've got a lot of strength left

I should be crying, but I just can't let it show

I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking"

-'This Woman's Work,'-Kate Bush

Warnings: labor, semi-graphic birth, blood, dean being supportive, childbirth complications, cas being cute for a moment.

Chapter 8: This Woman's Work

Maia:

I heaved myself up from the toilet and flushed. I felt like a blimp. This had to be the fifth or sixth time going to the bathroom. Jeez, how many times do you have to make Momma go tonight, Little Bean? Hey, Little Bean, I need you to keep a secret for me I got your name from a beautiful folk song I listened to when I was catching up on things I missed in the past two years. Unfortunately the people who make movies decided to put it on the soundtrack of a dumb movie with sparkly, No sense of Alpha bones vampires and Werewolves that are nothing like the real thing, not like Momma and Daddy and everyone else in our pack. Shh it'll be our dirty little secret, alright? I washed my hands liberally and started my way down the hall. I noticed an obnoxiously loud snore coming from Bobby's bedroom.

Finally sleeping in your room tonight huh? Old drunk. Don't worry Little Roslyn Bean, he isn't like most alcoholics, he means well he just has his vices. I let my swollen achy feet take me further down, towards my nest. I paused to stare at Sam's barren bedroom, the door slightly ajar, abandoned. I frowned, Uncle Sam isn't here Bean. Daddy, exiled him. My face scrunched up, about to cry. You're almost here Bean and a family member is missing. He's probably making his way across Kansas, hopping his way from nasty motel to nasty motel, working cases by himself to pass the time.

I thought we were gonna be a close-knit pack. Is it so bad to think everyone could just bury the hatchet? I mean, he lost Jo and his unborn pup in the most horrible way. I felt guilty for Jo's demise. If the Winchesters hadn't met me, she'd still be alive. He went feral, hurt uncle Cas, and almost hurt us. Keyword almost, Daddy couldn't take it though, only saw his actions as a deep betrayal. I was able to forgive him, but Papa bear had to make him leave. I know it's unrealistic but I just want everyone I care about to be here, for you Little One.

I sucked in a breath and gripped my bulbus excuse for a belly, pain. Braxton-Hicks? My breath released and it was gone. Must be. I waddled into our room, pausing by the threshold, resting my head against the doorframe. I chuckled lightly, See Bean, Daddy's dozing off. He's the hardest worker I've ever known. And he never complains. Dean woke from his light slumber, noticing me in the doorway, how could he not? His lips spread wide revealing his impeccable pearly teeth.

"Hello, gorgeous. Need me to get something for you?" He offered his services. I sighed, taking in a big breath.

"No, I'm just amazed that I ended up with you." He chuckled, a tad bashful. He opened his jeaned legs on the bed and patted his thigh, calling me to sit between them.

I gave him a smile, and embraced my beach ball of a belly. "Have you seen me lately?" Dean gave me a piercing look.

"Come here, you can't hurt me sweetheart." Semi-reluctantly I waddled over, sitting down on the edge of the bed at a turtles pace. I scooted back into his muscled chest, resting my back into him.

Deans trachea purred against my head. I turned to peer at him. "What's racing through the mind of the great Dean Winchester?" I asked. He ducked his head down into the nape of my neck kissing my claim-mark and let his strong arms tenderly embrace my swollen belly. His thumbs rubbed nonchalantly.

"You are beautiful. And I wouldn't want it any other way. I wouldn't trade this moment for the world." He cooed sweet nothings into my ear.

"You have a way with words." I told him shifting my weight a little. He rested his head against mine.

"I'm serious, Maia. This, and you, is the best thing that's ever happened to me." I want those words etched on a plaque, so I can hang it up on our wall. I wanted to tell him thank you but instead I sucked in a harsh breath through my teeth and winced.

"You alright?" Dean asked, peaking his interest.

"Mmm yeah. Your kid just has good kicking legs." Eager to feel it Dean's massive hands felt around trying to catch a feel of his child writhing unsettling inside me. I guided his hand over the spot, down near my thigh. Even though I couldn't see his expression, I'm sure he was grinning wide from ear to ear, as happy as a schoolboy.

"That's amazing. You're amazing. I love you." He didn't utter those three words often so when he did say it, he definitely meant it.

"I know." I never missed the opportunity to throw out our little Star-Wars inside joke. I interlaced my fingers onto his still placed over my stomach. We spent the rest of the night watching re-runs of King of Queens. Doug's voracious eating reminded me of Dean and made me smile so hard my cheeks started to hurt. I let sleep overtake me, I thanked Hypnos that I didn't dream of anything. Just darkness and the feeling of swaying. Similar to a slow song on prom-night. I bet Dean is an excellent dancer. The sleep made me feel weightless, like nothing else mattered, just simplicity. Not worrying about a damned thing in world. Just as I was about to be consumed by lazy bliss, something gushed out of me, snapping me awake.

Dawn's light streamed through the drawn sheer curtains but only about half of the light came in. there was an eerie howling, whistling of sorts the wind wild across the windows. How long has it been? Wasn't I supposed to count? Had I slept through other contractions? The liquid soaked into my stretchy sweatpants and into the sheet beneath me. I groaned a bit, a creeping wave of blunt pain growing from my spine.

Gasping audibly, this was when Dean woke. My mind was frantic and honestly afraid. Dean sucked drool back into his mouth and rubbed the excess into the shoulder part of his jacket.

"What's up buttercup?" Dean asked calmly.

"Dean, my water just broke." I said trying to hide the fear in my voice. Dean acted instantly, carefully he raised me up to a sitting position while he got up from the bed. I braced my hands resting on my knees, worry clear on my expression.

Dean cupped his hands onto my cheeks guiding my gaze to his perfect emerald orbs. "Everything is gonna be fine." He assured me trying to quell my fears. I exhaled and was only able to nod instead of speak. He left the room. I hated that. I never wanted him to leave my side. Now that my time has inevitably come, I was so terrified. In the last few weeks I had been practically begging to get this child out of me, now I didn't want that to happen. I wasn't ready for the hours of agony, the blood, the grinding teeth that came with childbirth.

I'd heard how bad it was from the numerous women who'd birthed their pups alone in the Mill. It was a fear of mine actually, to die like that, how cruelly ironic to meet your maker by bringing a life into the world at the same time. Dean's distinct heavy plods could be heard down the floor boards of the hallway, the door opened and it was my knight, armed with a special baby-bail-out-bag decorated in cute squirrels and pastel pink. Sam had bought it as a practical gag-gift. A second set of foot steps were heard coming upstairs, quickly.

Dean set the duffel down and grabbed the Impala keys from their hook shoving them in his pocket. He set a hand in the small of my back, a silent gesture to tell me to stand so he could change the bedding. Cas came in from the depths of the basement, I don't know why he insists on staying in there. I guess he likes the solitude? As Dean changed the sheets I braced myself on the footboard.

"Hiya Cas, enjoy the miracle of life programming. Coming to a theater near you." I waved my hand at him. His face twisted in confusion, his head tilted like a dog, I could almost envision those ocean eyes on a black lab with floppy ears. With the sheets changed, Dean ran through a quick mental list of things he thought he needed to go to the hospital, half an hour away.

Dean was adamant on having me birth this kid in a hospital, a safe environment with doctors and medical units devoted entirely for the well being of me and my pup. The only thing that was a turn off about that for me was, that our nest that I worked so hard on wasn't going to be there. I'd read in a magazine once that a pup born in a nest had a better chance at emotional attachment to the parents. How do they figure out those dumb statistics anyway? I pondered.

"I'm unfamiliar with that reference. How long have you been experiencing pressure waves?" oh Cas, your ignorance can be so cute sometimes. I let out a breathy smile,

"Cas, I was asleep. Can't really track them when I'm not awake. But you wouldn't really know anything about sleep, would you? Mr. Insomniac." As the words fell out of my mouth they sounded more rude than I intended. Dean grabbed the baby-bag and took the keys out of his pocket before stopping to give my belly one last touch and a kiss on the lips for me.

"Ready, soldier?" he asked me. Me? Ready for the warzone I'm being thrust into, no. I started to cry and shook my head, my hair flowing with the motions as I did.

"No." I whimpered. He grabbed my hand interlocking our fingers.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll be with you and Bean the whole time. C'mon, let's get you in Baby." How do you always know the right words at the right moments? Dean led me to the threshold but stopped because Cas was obstructing his way. I could see that little vein on Dean's temple pop out, oh boy, here we go, you don't want to piss off an Alpha that has a laboring mate to take care of.

"Ground-control to Cas, if you haven't heard, my pup is coming. You need to get out of my way." Dean said biting back a growl, lacing his tone in a heavy dose of annoyance. Castiel with his worried puppy dog eyes, jutted glances between myself, my beach ball, and Dean's face.

"I don't think you're able to leave." he confessed mindlessly twiddling with the strap of his trench-coat like a toddler finding out he's in trouble.

Dean answered, "Why the fuck not?!" I could nearly hear his blood boiling. Cas let go of the beige strap, his eyes taught like a deer in headlights.

"The TV voice told me a blizzard hit last night. Everything in a 15 mile radius has been covered in snow. It's improbable that she can give birth in a hospital." Cas averted his eyes to the floor, waiting for Dean's impending angry bellows. Poor Cas, he really is like a dog, cowering just a bit.

Not believing his announcement Dean let go of my hand and stomped over to the window, shoving the curtains aside. He slammed his fist down on the windowsill.

"Son of a bitch! Now?!" he let out a big sigh, thinking of the next move to take. My hand gripped the wood finish of the footboard and I sucked in a breath.

"Dean, set a timer on your phone." I told him. His eyebrows burrowed down on his face, confused and annoyed by my request, "Why?"

"Mmmm Just do it!" I said through gritting teeth, rubbing my back where the pain had started. He didn't answer me, realizing I was having a contraction and did as I asked. I let out a relieved exhale about a minute after the pain started. During that minute, Dean did what he did best under pressure and acted. He put a plastic covering on our bed and added fresh sheets. He told Cas something and the angel quickly followed his orders going down the stairs as fast as his legs could take him.

With Cas out of sight, Dean got a new pair of sweat pants and a lax pair of underwear for me to wear, since the ones I currently had on were pretty much useless, for obvious reasons. He slid them on for me, kissing my thigh as he drug the fabric up. He watched me as I got into bed and Cas came back with a mountain of towels. Cas descended once again, this time returning with two five gallon buckets of water. Cas left the room and nabbed all the medical books he could find. Dean left the room reluctantly, telling me he'd be right back. He came back, with another duffel bag, red this time and set it down by the pale's of water. The side was embroidered with the words, medical utensils. I did not want to know what kind of sadistic horror instruments were in there. I started to get nauseous at the thought of having cold giant metal tongs anywhere near my vagina. Do they still use forceps anymore?

I know Dean really wanted me to have our little girl in a hospital but by the looks of everything, I think he prepared all this stuff in case of a situation like this. I flipped the TV on for distraction and company, keeping the volume low enough to where I could still hear it but it wasn't rude to the rest of the room. I waved at my lover, his poor mind racing faster than a NASCAR driver on the last lap of the Daytona 500. he smiled I had snapped him out of his worried train of thought. Until his face had a moment of realization on it, he held out his index finger as if to say, one more thing, that he'd forgotten to do.

He left the room again, banging on Bobby's door to wake him. From the end of the hall I could just barely hear their short conversation.

"Morning Bobby, hey um, just wanted to let you know- it started." I heard Bobby struggle to get out of bed, groaning from his night of drinking.

"We goin' to the whacky shack or what?" he said still half asleep.

"Can't, nature decided to take a shit on us today. There's snow all the way up to the second floor window, god-damned blizzard happened. Gotta have it here." Dean said frustration in his husky voice. I wrapped my hair up in a tight bun, knowing by the end of this milestone experience it'd be messy as all Hell. Dean gave Bobby time to get dressed and came back in tending to me briefly before looking at me with sad eyes.

"I gotta make a phone call." he told me. "okie dokie" I said trying to cheer him up even if it was a little it would have been worth it. He gave me a tiny smile. Cas had disappeared in the chaos, but came back with a chair for Dean to sit in. I watched my mate take his phone out of his pocket, his back muscles drooping ever so slightly, as he closed the door. That drop was so faint but I knew it was carrying the weight of the world, my poor Atlas. I discreetly turned the TV volume down just enough to where I could hear who he was calling and what he was saying.

"Look, I know, we've got beef. As much as I want to put my fist through your skull, we're still family. There was this dumbass storm last night and there's snow everywhere. Sammy, kiddo's coming and we can't get to a hospital. It just started so it's going to be a while. I'm terrified. Just get here asap. I'll update you if we can get to there in time. Sam, I need my brother." he ended the message. I heard every time his voice broke. He waited a few minutes before coming back out. His eyes were red, he'd been crying. I smiled, knowing not to poke and prod.

Out of the medical utensils bag, Dean got out a small basket looking thing, which he put a soft pink towel in. She's going in that? What the fuck are we, hillbillies? I suppose it was the best thing he could get regarding our circumstances. From the bag he placed odd looking scissors and sterile alcohol next to them- implements for cord cutting, onto the top of the dresser next to where he put the basket.

My attention was dragged away from my husband as I heard a soft knock on the door. Bobby letting himself in with a huge smile across his gruffy face. "Hey, how ya doin' Momma?" I'm so not going to get to people calling me a mother. I lightly chuckled at him and shrugged my shoulders,

"You know, just workin' on bringing a life into the world." It was a joke but the sentence made me shudder.

Bobby came over and grabbed my hand patting it lightly, at the realization of what was happening to me, knowing there was nothing I could do to stop nature from taking it's course, I had been crying in two seconds flat. My attention was off Dean but he'd come close to me and held my other hand, bringing it up to meet his lips.

" Listen, there ain't nothin' to worry 'bout. You give Doofus and Feathers Hell for me, 'kay?" Bobby said reassuring me. As tears streamed down my face, I laughed at his name calling. Dean wiped a tear from my face.

"Yeah, I will." I replied. Cas got the idea to bring me a bottle of water and set it down on the bedside table. Dean let go of my hand checking the room for things he may have missed. When he was satisfied with his scanning he clapped his hands together and rubbed them as if to warm them up on a cold winter's day.

"Alrighty then, let's have a baby."

Bobby had left the room, sitting up against the exterior wall of our bedroom, wanting to give us privacy. Cas volunteered to be to one to deliver the baby, stacks of books to review his crash course keeping him company in our bedroom. He'd been diligently examining them in a chair near the corner of the room. It's been about 3 hours since I'd popped like a water balloon.

After that first conscious contraction, I was able to doze just a little. Dean said I should at least try to sleep in-between contractions while i was still able. To conserve my energy for when the real challenge came later. Much like heat, I would fluctuate from wanting the ceiling fan on full blast and cocooning like an Eskimo. Uncomfortable was an understatement. My back felt like it had been set aflame and every so often someone would twist a knife into my spine. By now the timer was 14 minutes apart. The ache in my back that had now radiated to my belly button was inscecent. It's only an uphill battle from here. Even though I was already feeling like shit, I knew I had a long way to go. Dean was laying in his spot in our nest, next to me.

Knowing him, he'd probably not tried to enter a semi-sleeping state, like I had, before. With another contraction down, I pulled myself up with the difficulty of an overturned turtle, might I add, I took myself to the edge of the bed. Dean came over to face me, placing a kiss on my forehead, he was waiting for instruction- wondering what I'd wanted. I scooted myself further to the edge, he picked up on that and gently hoisted me by my armpits into a standing position. Anything would be better, even light walking, than staying stagnant and letting my mind focus on each contraction as it came.

Together we paced around the room for who the fuck knows how long. Hopefully gravity will make you come a little faster, huh, Little Bean? I chuckled at the thought that I'd been wearing Dean's favorite flannel. Now it was my favorite, over the time I'd been with him. Dean's Whiskey scent could only calm my nerves so much. It worked better when a contraction wasn't squeezing the life out of me. I now had my arms on dean's shoulders, my head against his chest standing, my lips quivered uncontrollably, feeling the onset of another contraction. Dean being Mr. Perfect that he was to me, automatically massaged my lower back.

I guess Cas wasn't the only one who'd been hitting the books. He new exactly where to press to make the ache subside, if only a little, that was enough. From what I could tell staring out the window it was maybe midday? It was really hard to tell from the storm, leaving a gloomy haze over the outside. My grip tightened, desperate to grab on to anything, this one was gonna be a rough one, I could feel it, everywhere. I wasn't gonna be one of those hippie people who did that weird half-pant, half-hyperventilate bullshit excuse for a breathing exercise. So instead I chose to grab on and not let go. I pressed my forehead into his chest harder as the pain grew, by the end of it a scream had left my throat, my hands white knuckling the fabric of Dean's jacket. Throughout the duration of this one, Dean whispered sweet nothings into my ear, telling me how great I was doing and that he loved me. Suddenly both my legs felt so numb, my knees almost buckled.

"Dean, bed, please. My legs feel like jelly." he guided me over the short distance, practically picking me up himself and set me on the edge of the bed, my feet dangling off. I braced myself on the edge, my hands taught on either side of me. I stared at the floor, trying to focus on something other than predicting when the next hellish wave was going to barrel through me. I saw Dean's boots scuffle away from my line of sight. Don't leave, you said you wouldn't leave. Not having him by my side, unable to feel him or see him terrified me. I can't do this alone, I need you so much. Emotion started to overcome me, tears welling up, "Dean??" I choked out.

He came back into view with one of the 5-gallon pales of water and dipped a washcloth into it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Love." he said pressing the coolness to my neck, forehead, and shoulder blades- underneath my shirt when necessary. I cooed against the cloth, it felt like an attempt at cooling the surface of the sun. Cas flipped and flapped at the pages of an Omega medical textbook and announced that he wanted to "check" me. Ugh that doesn't sound good to me, but it's not like I can object to much in this situation anyway. Dean put the washcloth back in the bucket, letting the damp cloth re-soak itself with cool water. I couldn't really feel my legs, so Dean put them back on the bed, it felt good to have my head rest on the pillow and the cold sheets felt like a short respite.

A jolt snapped through my body as I felt his cold touch wrap around the waist band of my sweat pants and underwear. Dean left a tender kiss on my clothed knee before his request, "Can you lift up for me, Princess?" I didn't want to move, but regardless I was able to just barely lift my torso for a moment while Dean removed the articles of clothing, exposing myself. He sat the garments down on the floor. I guess I won't be needing those for a while. Dean pulled up his chair and took my hand, stroking at my fingers with his thumb and kissing the back of my palm.

Cas came over and propped my legs up into an upside-down-V position. I was not looking forward to this. Even though Cas probably thought of this experience as informational and educational at the very least, I was still embarrassed at the thought of having the Angel anywhere near my nethers. He snapped some gloves on, for hygiene purposes, not that Angels really were susceptible to things like that but I guess that was a precaution built for me rather than him. I let my eyes wander on the ceiling and I found that bunny-like shape in the paint. I tried to focus on that as much as possible to distract myself from what I was about to feel and the cliffs of shyness I was being chucked off of. My grip tightened on Dean, he returned it with a light squeeze.

Cas opened my legs so he could get a better view and much to my dismay, he pressed his hand onto my belly just slightly and entered his fingers into me, feeling around. My teeth gritted and ground into each other, my grip taught, my head pinned into the pillow beneath me.

"uuuggh. Cas, that fucking hurts!" he poked around a little longer until the pain subsided for a few moments until he pulled his fingers out of me. I let out a sigh of relief. Cas cleaned up his hands and announced his findings. Dean paid extra attention, holding my hand a bit tighter as Cas talked, Dean was eager.

"3 centimeters dilated." he told the room. I whimpered at the news. I knew this process, especially since this is my first birth, wasn't going to be speedy. Anything but really but to hear that my body was barely cooperating when I already felt the way I did, sucked royally.

Dean kissed my hand, grabbed the washcloth from the bucket, wrung it out and dabbed my forehead. I closed my eyes, it felt so nice. I wish I could just fall asleep and have all of this be over. But that's unrealistic and wishful thinking. I'm very happy that I didn't have to do this alone, like most of my other Mill-mates. We did have one thing in common, no pain relief. I have no idea what I'm going to feel like in the next few hours.

Do women pass out from this? I know it's possible to black out from pain. I have a long way to go yet.

By the time near midnight came around I thought I was dying. Very literally dying. Every cell in my body was either on fire or aching. No position that I could put my body in would ease the pain. The pain had radiated down through my pelvis and into my upper thighs. The pressure on my spine was Hell. Gods, how much longer do I have to endure this? I haven't even started pushing yet. I don't want to think about that. Dean stayed with me faithfully, he got Bobby to bring him cups of coffee so he could stay awake with me. With his beverage he couldn't get enough of downing these pills. they had to have been some kind of suppressants. i felt that thought leave my mind, pain searing through my body.

My hand shook against his feeling another wave start. I bunched up one of Dean's shirts into my mouth, something to bite on, gritting my teeth into the fabric, riding out the contraction.

"Just breathe, it'll pass." Dean kept telling me. The shirts didn't help much in ways of muffling sound, not that I cared that much anymore. I'm sure Bobby could hear me well downstairs. Blood, sweat, and tears: I'm pretty sure childbirth is how this phrase came to be. My face relaxed and my jaw had let go of the shirt. This wave was done. But another would soon greet me.

Cas and Dean had somber looks on their faces. Dean was powerless, but Cas on the other hand had the angel mojo, but this was not the kind of thing for him to interfere with. So they could only watch, and collect empathy. How strange a house full of Alpha men witnessing an ancient process, feeling vulnerable to my anguish. Dean stopped the timer on his phone for the umpteenth time. Leaning over and giving me a kiss on my sweat laden forehead, my breath shallow and heaving.

"Duration?" Cas asked. "7 minutes." Dean responded. Cas recorded the information on a notepad, he'd been tracking everything. My eyes went to the calendar and wall clock behind Dean's head. It's 11:56 p.m. I checked the calendar, the date wasn't crossed out yet but I'm very sure it was January 24th, 2011. No one had mentioned it and I was just remembering it now. Today is Dean's birthday, he's 32. A weak smile formed on my face.

"Dean?" I asked, my voice raw from screaming. Even though his facial expression had traces of underlying fatigue, the caffeine and me being the only thing keeping him alert he'd smiled back at me. "Yes, Dear?" he asked me, his voice soothing to my ears.

"Happy birthday, I made you a present, took me 9 months to make. Sorry, you'll get it a little late. She must not want to be punctual. Better late than never I guess?" I joked a little.

Dean started to tear up, but didn't let himself cry. He exhaled a tiny laugh. "Best birthday present ever." he replied kissing my knuckles. I smiled back at him. It would have been cool to have Roslyn share a birthday with her brave, tenacious, Alpha-Papa. But that outcome was wildly unrealistic, so I'll settle for the day after. It was weird, I wanted all this agony to be over with, I wanted to hold Roslyn in my arms, see her tiny facial features. I want to be in awe trying to determine who's nose she had, what her hair color was like, if she had a birthmark. I hope she has her father's eyes, I love how green they are and wouldn't mind to look at another pair.

My body crippled in on itself, my teeth returned to gnawing at Dean's shirt, fuck this pain so much.

The 24 hour mark had come and gone, the morning's light streaming into the room once again. I felt so exhausted. Dean had the idea to be a pillow of sorts, letting my limp form rest against his solid one. My hair was damp and the wisps that stuck out of from the confines of my bun at my hair line stuck to my forehead and rest of my face. I was running on fumes upon fumes. The only thing I focused on was trying to get this kid out of me.

Pain and screaming was a luxury now. The base of my neck dug into Dean's hard shoulder muscle, my heels dug themselves into the mattress, I felt my dulled claws enter the flesh of my love's hand, drawing blood. Dean made a point to keep showering my claim-mark with tender kisses, trying to distract me from the pain. The muscles in my neck felt so tense I thought they might actually break. When I couldn't take it anymore, I let out a scream, the noise that escaped hurt my own ears and didn't even sound humanly possible. When it was done I'd collapsed down onto Dean's body. He kissed my cheek and said I did a good job. Why can't this just be over with? The next contraction came within the minute and I'd been thrust into agony again.

******************************

I'd lost track of time. Surprisingly, pushing gave me a bit of relief, a purpose with the end in sight. It's nothing like the TV shows or movies, 3 or 4 pushes if you're lucky and out comes kiddo. So I kept giving it my all, and giving it my all. But it didn't stop. Each contraction kept crashing against each other, no break in-between, colliding like the waves of an angry ocean.

Dean got upset with Cas, he'd said some kind of comment about me pushing too long. I'd been two hours into that apparently. My vision started to blur and I focused on the shape of the bunny that the paint on the ceiling had. I was crying, the tears cooling on my cheeks as they left my eyes. I'd heard ambulance sirens at some point, but it would still take them a while to shove off all the snow. Maybe Bobby called them?

"Dean. I can't do this anymore." my body had been more sore than it had ever been and I was sure I had nothing left. I was giving up. I just wanted it all to stop. All the feeling in my legs had gone, they were numb and aching at the same time. I was unsure if they were propped up by feel alone. Dean kept talking my ear up, "Yes you can. She's almost here. Just a little longer."

Cas' face lit up, his focus on my center. "On the next contraction, give a big push, I can see her." Dean laughed relieved and excited, he kissed my neck.

My face grimaced with pain. But with the reminder of the end, I bore down emptying every ounce of energy I had into it. It hurt like all Hell, like every kind of pain I could think of hitting me all at once. I'd felt something pop out of me. Dean let out a sob, he could see her little face, the mess of goo around it. The next two contractions I'd given it the same amount of effort, feeling the shoulders and her body slip out of me. She looked big and healthy, prime characteristics of a child sired by and Alpha. There was no pain anymore. I was really happy and Dean couldn't stop fervently kissing my cheek and telling me that he loved me so much. Her shrill cries was like music to my ears. All my hard work had paid off and oddly I felt like I was willing to go through it all again. Cas had used the utensils to cut the cord and wrapped her in a towel, slightly bloody.

I'd felt something else slip out of me, the guts of afterbirth. But I felt so cold after, and warmth pooled under me. Someone that sounded like Cas mentioned the word Hemorrhaging. I focused on the bunny-shape again, I didn't feel Dean under me, instead there was a rhythmic pumping, my chest was moving but it wasn't me. One… Two.. Three.. Quick.. Quick.. Slow…Dean had learned the art of CPR since my medical scare, he hoped not to use it. I felt cold tears on my face, those weren't mine either. Breath laced with whiskey entered my mouth, trying to help me breathe.

"Don't you fucking die on me now! Stay awake. Please. Maia." Everything in my line of sight was turning black, the distant crying of my little girl, Gods she sounds so strong. I love you, my baby girl. I love you too Dean, so, so much. What's at the bottom of Pandora's box again? I could have sworn I tasted iron on my tongue and the saltiness of saline. Just for a second. But I can't hold on. I just can't. Goodbye my wonderful Whiskey-man….

Quote:

"There's no need to argue anymore

I gave all I could, but it left me so sore

And the thing that makes me mad

Is the one thing that I had

I knew, I knew

I'd lose you

You'll always be special to me

Special to me, to me…"

-'No need to argue,'-The Cranberries.

end part 9.

#alpha!dean #bobby #castiel #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #fluff #spn #supernatural #dean x ofc

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batfoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Strange Hybrids Batfam!AU Pt 1

Was this inspired by the copious amounts of otter videos the youtube algorthim decided I needed today? You'll never know. (But yes, yes it was.)

We love Bruce Wayne, but Bruce Wayne is an idiot human who decided to take on a whole herd of half feral hybrid children. His cousin Kate Kane is a black swan hybrid, and for some reason he thought this meant he was Prepared.

Surprise surprise, he was in absolutely no way prepared.

When he goes to the circus he's absolutely floored by the mythos surrounding the Famous Flying Graysons. A family of sea otters who had defied the laws of nature themselves, chosing the leave the water in chase of winds, able to fly without wings. So he stops to see the show, and well. When things happen as they do, he can't just leave their tiny little pup. Otter pups don't do well on their own. He'd already made up his mind, but when he'd heard the pup had been put into Juvie he started pushing extra hard for those papers and processes to go through.

There had been a lot of adjusting. Not only did he have to learn to help Dick groom, swim, and recover from all the stress, but he also had to take into account his circus upbringing. He about had a stroke the first time he caught him hanging from the second floor railings. The next big hurdle was Kate, actually.

In what would become an eternal trend, she took one look at the pup, trumpeted loudly, grabbed him and nyoomed. There have been numerous reports of wild lesbian swan pairings "adopting" cygnets, Bruce would later find out. Usually orphaned cygnets, but sometimes they snatch and grab. Bruce spent a whole three hours chasing down an exhuberant cousin and a playful pup who thought it was all hilarious.

Bruce did not think it was hilarious

He should have realized Jason Todd would be a handful as soon as he recognized the white stripes running through the hair of his would-be tire thief. But badgers are nothing if not cute. Adorable evil geniuses.

The first time Dick and Jason meet, they stared for a good five minutes before making similar furious chirrups. It was then that Bruce learned otters and badgers both belong to the weasel family. It was also then that Bruce learned that while it is essential badger cubs be raised in a group, they split off into a solitary lifestyle very early on. They also don't share well at all.

Jason is a creature of havoc, from his first moments in the manor. When Kate runs off with them he seriously considers not chasing her down. Once she realizes Jason's tendency to start ripping up the couch to burrow, she'll probably return him. Bruce chases him regardless, it took him literally half a second to even think about bc babie

Bruce had never met a beaver kit before Tim, but he was pretty sure Tim was the cutest beaver kit to ever exist. He'd waddle around the manor, slapping his tail and chirruping at Dick to get the older male to groom him, and Bruce was so thankful that these two seemed to do better than his two little weasels. Then his heart ached as he wished he could've had his ornery little cub, because he'd give anything for the little chaos gremlin to be tearing holes into his mattresses now.

Dick had decided to be a complete Richard and not tell his newest little brother that he'd be kit-napped by his enthusiastic new aunt. Bruce and Kate were both nearly given heart attacks when the shy little rodent gave the loudest squeals either of them had ever heard in their lives. Rodents, regardless of size, all have very powerful lungs, as it turns out.

At this point Bruce gave up on the idea of having a nice, put together house. Most of Jason's burrowed furniture had been left as it was, and then when Tim started damming rooms all hope for order was lost. It's only really a problem when he dams the entryway to the batcave, causing Bruce to trip.

Cass is a human, but just as feral as any hybrid he'd ever met.

Kate couldn't catch her to kidnap her. It was a great disappointment to the swan, and she pouted for days. Cass went over on her own eventually anyways though, so it all worked out.

I'll add more later

#batfam hybrids au #batfam headcanons #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #kate kane #batfam #i need to turn in homework lol #this wasn't meant to be long #but I kept thinking of more things

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amillionmillionvoices · 4 years ago

Note

Time Heist and Love Actually! Please? Just the titles of these have me going feral at the possibilities.

Time Heist is an AU of the s8 episode, where instead of another of the Teller’s species, they find River in the vault. I wrote the entire first chapter, but I haven’t been able to figure out what to do with it next - why she was there, what happens after, etc. But here’s a snippet:

The door releases finally, and it’s dark, so dark, and he remembers screams cut off by sheer force of will and nights with her hair drenched in sweat and her body trembling and his fingers against her spine, his voice in her ear, Gallifreyan love songs in his weak, scratchy voice the only benediction. He hears her gasp, hears chains rattle - anger spikes up his spine to the back of his head and his hands clench - Come on, come on - and then it’s open, just enough for him to slip inside.

River.

Her name doesn’t quite make it into the air, caught in his throat, his hands shaking. Her hair is matted and her face swiped with dirt, arms trapped inside the same orange jumpsuit, ankles chained to the floor - there’s a collar around her neck that attaches to the wall and a bruise on her temple still caked with blood and his eyes are burning, blurring so badly he can barely see.

“River.”

His fingertips to her cheek make her flinch back into the darkness.

“Don’t touch me,” she snaps, her voice scratched and brutal and oh, so beautiful, the anger and fight still in her.

“Well, that’s nowhere near the perfect sentence,” he murmurs, keeping his hands by his sides until she blinks against the light, tilts her head up to see him. She winces against the bright and he wonders how long, how many hours, days, anything beyond that unimaginable.

“Doc—Doctor?”

“Need a taxi, dear?”

She makes a sound he’s never heard before, broken and guttural and relieved and wounded and he scrambles for his screwdriver, unlocking her ankles and the metal around her throat, peeling her out of the suit with hands that shake, until her arms are free and the suit is pooled around her waist.

“How—?” she tries, but he hushes her, takes her hands, horrified when she gasps, pained - when his hands come away with flakes of blood. Lines around her wrists and neck, and more he’s sure, and all he sees for a moment is white. White light. White nothingness. A white rage he hasn’t felt in so long, since the last time, since he pulled her from the lake. Since he watched her burn.

“Can you walk?”

She nods, but she’s unsteady, fingers digging into his shoulder as he loops an arm around her waist and helps her from the shadows.

“You can keep your eyes closed,” he murmurs, too low for anyone to hear. “I’ve got you.”

-----

and then for Love Actually, I honestly just REALLY wanted a River/12 version of that scene with Laura Linney and Alan Rickman, so here it is so far:

“How long have you worked here?” she asks, a rather non-sequitur, considering she was just talking about the weather.

“Ballpark or exactly?”

“Exactly.”

John barely thinks about it. “Seven years, five months, ten days, and…” he glances at his watch. “Three hours and twelve minutes.”

Kate nods, and he expects the usual lecture. Expects her to insist he get his “act together” - he’s heard it often enough. That he can’t give lectures about poetry in an astrophysics class, that taking the students on a field trip to Stonehenge doesn’t have anything to do with cosmic inflation.

He knows Kate doesn’t really care. It’s why he likes her so much. She talks the talk of being a typical, uncompromising department head, but she cares more about students and research than she does about politics and money, and when he tells her he needs something she genuinely listens.

He was friends with her father, and feels a bit paternal towards her, though he hates calling it that, so he’s thoroughly side-swiped when she takes another sip of coffee and says plainly,

“And how long have you been in love with River Song, our approachable yet enigmatic Head of Archaeology?”

John blanches. He can feel his eyebrows skyrocket into his hairline and he nearly drops his mug. Kate sips her coffee and stares at him like she hasn’t completely upset the incredibly well-cultivated wall around his emotions in one question, and John does his best not to choke on air.

He’d thought he’d been subtle.

Though they’re in different departments, he’s been — some would call it friends, others enemies, others merely “complicated” — with River since he started, a semester after she did almost eight years ago. They often take lunches together, often drop in on one another’s lectures to stand in the back and heckle. Sometimes she drives him so completely insane with her archeology rubbish and her refusal to concede any point and her ridiculous hair and flirtatious laugh that he can’t think straight; in the beginning, she’d driven him crazy, and he’d insisted he wanted nothing to do with her. Now, everything she says and everything she does just makes him want to kiss her senseless.

But how the hell Kate Stewart knows that, of all people, he has no idea.

[ ask me about a wip!]

#river song #drfic #fic #wip meme #asks #replies #thanks hon!!#i hope you enjoy these random snippets on two very opposite ends of the angst spectrum lol #xhellnhighheelsx

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crashdevlin · 4 years ago

Text

Jump The Shark

Author’s Note: This is part nineteen of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: When John gets a call from the youngest son he never got to meet, Y/n goes with him to find out what happened to the one-night stand John had back in 1990.

Pairing: Alpha!John x Omega!Reader

Word count: 3597

Story Warnings: angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, angst, mentions of physical violence, mentions of mindfuckery, mentions of ferality, pining, did I mention angst?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn't said anything. Not from the moment you and John found the truck. You climbed up into the cab and changed into jeans, a black and green plaid flannel and a pair of hiking boots. You dropped your suit skirt and blouse out the window going 80 down the interstate, and then you closed your eyes and listened to the Rolling Stones.

You had to open your eyes when your memories started attacking you.

Dean had been so sure that you were the one he wanted, the one he was looking for...but that was Dean Smith and Y/n Colt. That was a Stanford MBA and a former Miss Teen USA runner-up. The idea that he wanted to mark you was particularly hurtful and you were kinda glad you made him wait because you weren't sure if it would have reset like the first mark Sam gave you and the last thing you wanted was for Dean to be tethered to you when he could barely stand to be around you.

He only wanted you because he was someone else. He was someone else, but his soul was still stuck on you. You both felt that pull because you were connected but he didn't want you. Smith liked Colt, but Winchester would never love Y/l/n.

John just drove. It was obvious he had no destination in mind, he just pointed the truck West and drove. Part of you wished that he would go back to Mississippi but you knew that your semi-normal was gone...and it was better. You were a hunter and so were your alphas. No normal for you.

"It hit her hard, Sammy," you heard John whispering as he drove when you woke up a few hours into Missouri. "She hasn’t been that close with your brother in years and the fact that it was all fake is killing her."

A pang of sadness hit you as your brain called forth what John was talking about. The haze of sleep had taken the memory, but now it was clear why your heart felt like so many broken pieces shoved into a box in your chest.

"Yeah, we know that but he won't say it and she probably wouldn't be able to hear it now anyway." John sighed as Sam spoke through the phone. "Son, I don't know what we can do other than what we always do. If you need help, just call, but she definitely doesn't need to be around your brother for a while. All right. Keep me updated," John said before setting his phone on the dashboard. "I know you’re awake, 'mega. Can't fool me."

"Wasn't trying to fool you. Just letting you finish your conversation," you responded, sitting up and stretching as best as you could in the truck cab. "What'd Sam want?"

"Tell me that the whole deal in Cincinnati was the Angels fucking with us. Specifically fucking with Dean. They wanted to prove to him that he was always supposed to be a Hunter or something."

"And we just got pulled along for the ride? That was nice of them." You rolled your eyes and reached down for your purse, pulling out a travel mouthwash. "So, what, everything's dandy now?" you asked as you took a drink of the mint liquid, swished it around in your mouth and swallowed.

"You know, you're supposed to spit that out, right?"

"Only quitters spit," you said automatically. You ran your hand across your face as you dropped the bottle to the floorboard. Dirty jokes Dean told you as a teen were not what you needed to get out of your funk. “I’ve put worse things in my body.”

“Girl, we...we’ll get through this.”

“Not like we have a lot of options, right?” You licked your lips and shook your head. “I’m fine, John. I slept. I’m better. I’m fine.”

“When are you gonna learn that it’s useless to lie to me?” John asked.

“I’m sure it’ll sink in eventually,” you responded, chuckling. “I promise...I’m going to be fine.”

“I know you will,” John said, reaching over to pat your knee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks passed and you were getting better at putting it behind you. The might’ve-beens dragged up by the Angels in Cincinnati were slowly being pushed back into the recesses of your mind and you were feeling better. Sam emailed John to tell him about some jerk in Ohio writing books about the boys’ lives, someone Castiel revealed to be a Prophet of the Lord who was writing The Winchester Gospels. There were books about the boys’ lives, their actions, their innermost thoughts, just hanging out on bookshelves around the world. You wondered if you were in any of the stories, the gospels.

John’s secondary cell phone went off as you pulled the truck into the parking lot of a coffee shop and he frowned as he looked down at the screen before he answered, “Hello?” A beat of time as you parked the truck and turned to him. “He’s not available. Can I help you?” He had a severe look on his face and you shook your head at him, confused by his reaction to the call. “What’d you say your name was? Milligan...and, uh, what are you callin’ John for?”

He made a fist and hammered it into his forehead. “Right, well, uh, I hate to have to tell you this over the phone but John is dead. He died in 2001.” Your eyes went wide and John put a finger up to quiet you before you could even start to question. “If you need help, then I can meet with you, kid. I’m, uh, John Winchester’s son, Dean. Windom, Minnesota. Cousin Oliver Café. We’ll be there tomorrow at 8am. See ya then, kid.”

“What the fuck, John?!” you exclaimed when he ended the call.

“Fuck.” He scratches his fingernails across his forehead and sighs as he sets the phone on the dash. “I recognized the area code, knew it was Missouri, thought it might have something to do with...with this case I had around January 1990. Anybody I interacted with back then, they would’ve known me before I got hit with that hex. So, that’s why I answered the phone like that and I’m glad I did because...because the kid on the other end of the phone is…” He trailed off and you gave him a pointed look.

“The kid on the other end of the phone is what?”

“My youngest son, Adam.”

Your eyes went wide, confusion and anger filling your body. “Your what?”

“I told you...I told you that I had one dalliance before you after Mary died, remember? When I was on that ghoul hunt and I went into rut and I-I was almost feral and I had one night where I couldn’t fuckin’ control myself and-”

“You knocked her up with pups?” you whispered. For some reason, it hurt a lot more than it should, especially considering you were only seven years old at the time.

“Only one. Adam.” He shook his head at himself. “She never told me. I didn’t know anything about it until 2001...and by then…by the time Adam called the first time, I was a young man again. I couldn’t show up looking like a twenty-five year old and start a relationship with the boy. So I just never called him back, kinda put him on the back burner. I figured I’d go see him when we found the witch and fixed me but I never found the witch and-”

“So, why’s he calling again now?” you asked, trying to be understanding. It wasn’t John’s fault. He should have told you. He should have told his other sons, but he couldn’t do anything about it now.

“His mom, Kate, is missing.”

“And he called you because?” you asked.

“Because the cops aren’t worried and his mom told him to try to get a hold of me if anything weird ever happened. She knew about the hunting.”

“So, your plan is to...pretend to be your oldest son and go meet your youngest son for the first time and try to find his missing mother...who most probably is just normal-missing, not supernatural-missing?” you asked, cautious of your tone.

“I can drop you somewhere if you don’t wanna participate in this, girl,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

“No,” you responded vehemently. “You don’t get to leave me behind, Winchester. Not ever again, remember?”

“Okay, then I’m gonna need you to back me on this and you’re going to have to call me ‘Dean’.”

You nodded. “I can do that.” You weren’t sure you wanted to, but you’d do it for him.

“Thank you, darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John was nervous. You could smell it in his scent. You leaned into his shoulder as you sat in the booth, trying to calm him with your own scent. You kept your head on his shoulder as he switched a glass of water out with a glass of holy water and set a trio of silverware on the opposite side of the table. “Just in case.”

“You really think-”

“I looked into him, ya know? Kid did real good without me in his life,” John said suddenly. “He’s real and he’s smart and he never had anything to do with this life. I’m scared it bled onto him anyway.”

You sighed and leaned up to press a kiss to his temple as the door opened and a tall, thin young man walked into the diner. He looked like a mix of Sam and Dean. “That’s him,” you whispered, recognizing him from the Facebook profile.

John, or rather ‘Dean’, stood and waved at the boy.

“Dean?” Adam asked, walking over. John nodded. The boy laughed. “Wow, you look just like the picture my mom had of-of John. You’re almost the spitting image of him.” He let out a scoff as he sat down, his eyes moving to you. “Who’s this?”

“My omega,” John said, a bit defensively.

“Y/n,” you said, offering your hand to him.

Adam took it with a smile. “Wow.”

You felt a cringe move through your body and you looked down. “What?”

“I just…” Adam cleared his throat. “There’s not a lot of omegas in Windom and none are as pretty as you.”

Another Winchester flirting with you was sending all sorts of bad signals through your body. You softly tugged your hand back and sat back down as Adam settled into the opposite side of the booth and picked up the water. You held your breath when he took a drink but the water went down easy so you relaxed a bit.

But not much.

He smelled wrong. John was lavender and orange and ylang ylang, Dean was lavender and honeysuckle and anise, Sam was vanilla and coffee and undercurrents of honeysuckle when he was in rut. Adam smelled like dirt.

Not grass and forest and mossy logs, dirt. Just dirt. He didn’t even have a secondary scent to him, no undercurrent or complementary smell. Just dirt.

There should have been some part of him that smelled like a Winchester, even if he wasn’t the same makeup of a Winchester as the ones you knew. He shouldn’t smell like that.

Adam didn’t seem to notice your musing or your deep breaths to try and find something else in his scent. He went off on a tangent as he ate his breakfast about how John and Kate met in the emergency room at the hospital room where she works and he went into rut after he got hurt and Adam tried to get a hold of John when he was a kid and John just never picked up the phone and he’s glad that ‘Dean’ answered the phone this time.

“At least I know why he didn’t answer when I was calling before. So, uh, what happened to John?”

“Heart attack,” John responded. “It was sudden.”

“Right, guess that makes sense. Heart disease is the number one killer of men his age in the US,” Adam said.

Your eyes focused on the silverware in the man’s fists. Not a shifter either then. But this was something. This was not a Winchester.

“Well, after we get done eating, why don’t you take us to the house and we’ll see if we can’t find something to tell us where your mom got to,” John offered.

“Thanks, Dean,” Adam said with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He didn't react to silver or holy water," John argued as he followed Adam's car down the road.

"So? There's plenty of things that can alter people's perception of them that don't react to silver or holy water! Rakshasas, sirens, djinns, ghouls, do I need to go on?" you argued back. "He smells like dirt, John. That is not-"

"Maybe that's just-"

"What'd his mother smell like?" you interrupted.

"Passion fruit...and something else I can't remember."

"Not dirt. He shouldn't smell like that. He's not your son."

John sighed and scratched at his chin. "You might be right. He should smell more like one of us. He doesn't even smell like an alpha, honestly, but...if he's not Adam, then where the hell is Adam? And where's Kate? And why the fuck would whatever he is try to get me out here?"

"I don't know."

"Me either. For now, let's focus on finding Kate and we'll go from there." You held in a groan and focused out the windshield. "I know, 'mega. I'm just...I got this feeling...I lost my opportunity to be a part of this boy's life because of that witch."

"And that’s terrible, John...but you wouldn't have me if it wasn't for that witch so…"

“I’m not sayin’ I regret it, sweetheart, I just...wish I could have...met him once before I went after that bitch.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, biting your thumbnail. “Sometimes I wish things were different, too.”

“You wish I never came over when you were going into that first heat,” he guessed.

You swallowed, but you didn’t answer. The truth was, you had thought through a lot of different wishes and butterfly-effect ripples of how it would change everything. If John didn’t show up, you wouldn’t be a hunter. If Dean hadn’t pushed you to let Sam take you when those apple-pie assholes put you in heat, you would have just been Dean’s. If you never sold your soul for Dean, you might have been able to move on, find another alpha...a non-Winchester.

“I don't think I'd be myself if you hadn't shown up,” you answered eventually. “I'd have stayed stuck at Bobby's, never ended up with an alpha let alone two, and I would be dying from never getting a knot in a few years' time...it’s better you did.”

"I'm...glad I did, Y/n. I like the woman you are, the strong and beautiful omega you are.”

You smiled and your cheeks heated up at the praise. “Let’s just get this done, huh?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t exactly happy that you were the one who had to crawl through the vents but Adam said, and John fucking agreed, that you were smallest and therefor the best choice. When you found the blood and pieces of skull and blond hair, you were happy to be small enough to pull your phone out of your pocket and text the news to John so he could break the news before you crawled back out.

“Call the cops. We gotta get out of here, though,” John said as he offered you a hand to help you up out of the vent.

“Wait, but-” Adam started to argue.

“We don’t mix with cops,” you responded, before stomping away from them, roughly brushing dust off of your jeans and shirt. “Come on, J-Dean. Let’s get out of here.”

“You don’t mix with-” Adam started to argue, but you pushed past him and stomped out to John’s truck.

“There was no surprise in his scent. There was no anger or sadness. I’ve lost both parents, John, there should have been-”

“Maybe he’s numb or-”

“Maybe he’s made of dirt or something!” you snapped. “That is not-”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong yet, ‘mega.”

You shook your head. “Yeah. Yet. You know what, John? I’m gonna go ahead and look into things that could be pretending to be your illegitimate pup.”

You barely looked at him as you got out of the truck and headed inside to start researching. When Adam showed up to find out what was going on with his missing mother and you and ‘Dean’ leaving before the cops showed up and “what the hell?!” John decided to explain about hunting as simply as he could. He didn’t explain who he really was, though. And then John decided to take Adam to explore other options of finding Kate.

It was a couple hours later that you came across a mention in an online lore forum that said ghouls, while normally scavengers who feast on dead flesh, could actually eat living specimens and have been shown to greatly enjoy fresh human meat and blood...and just like feasting on the dead, the ghoul can take the visage of their victim and their memories.

“Didn’t John say that’s what he was after when he was here before?” you whispered to yourself as you picked up your cell phone and dialed John’s number. It rang through until it went to voicemail. You called again. It went to voicemail again.

Panic fell over you. Your alpha was in trouble. Your alpha was in trouble and you had no idea where he was.

“Fuck!” You were almost shaking as you stood up and looked around aimlessly. What could you do? Another string of expletives fell from your mouth before you forced yourself to focus. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Your soul was connected to him. You needed to find him.

It only took a flash. A flash of the dining room at Kate’s house, John tied to the table had you grabbing the keys to John’s truck and rushing for your alpha. You pushed that truck as fast as it would go to get it to the house on the outskirts of Windom. The truck tires screeched as you slid to a stop in the front yard. You grabbed your shotgun from the rack in the truck bed and ran into the house.

John was tied to the table, ‘Adam’ and ‘Kate’ standing over him as he bled from his wrists. “Y/n,” he groaned. “They’re ghouls!”

“I know!” you snapped, aiming at Adam’s head and shooting. Parts of his head exploded onto the wall behind him and Kate shrieked before running at you. You moved to pump the shotgun for a second shot, but Kate grabbed you and tossed you into the wall like you were nothing.

“Y/n!”

“I’m fine, John!” you shouted, rolling onto your hands and knees.

“John?” Kate spat out, her tone dripping with poison.

“Forgot to mention before you started draining me,” John groaned. “I’m the one who killed your daddy, sweetheart.”

“Witches are better than plastic surgery, bitch,” you said, sweeping the woman’s leg with your foot. She fell to the floor and you jumped up, grabbing the shotgun and shooting her in the head, too. You licked your lips and panted as you limped over to the table and pulled out a knife, getting him loose from his binds. “You okay?” you asked, grabbing a rag and ripping it in half, wrapping each half around his wounds.

“Yeah. You...you got here in time.” He sat up, his legs hanging off the table as you secured the wraps around his wrists. “How’d you know?”

“I figured out ghouls could eat fresh and then I couldn’t get you on the phone and...I…” You licked your lips. “I knew where to find you.”

“How?” he pressed.

“How’d you know what motel room I was cutting Sam’s mark off of me?” you asked in answer.

“You felt it?” he asked and you nodded. He reached out, barely wincing at the pull on his wrist, and pulled you in for a soft, sad kiss. “They were siblings, kids of the ghoul I took down last time I was in Windom. They called to get revenge for me killing their dad.” He looked away. “Killed Kate and Adam to get revenge first. I was hoping I wasn’t right about my life bleeding on his.”

“It’s not your fault, John,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “I know. Shoulda stuck around to see if the thing left behind little monsters for me to kill, but...I went into rut...and then I had to get back to the boys.”

“John...it’s really not on you.”

“He’s dead because of me.”

“He was alive because of you,” you insisted. “He had nineteen years before these things...he had nineteen years because of you. Please, don’t let this get to you.” You chuckled, ruefully. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be barely floating in an ocean of shit. You’re supposed to be my life raft.”

He smiled and nodded. “I am. I am your life raft, darlin’. Just...a little blood-deprived right now. I’ll perk up after a glass of O.J. and some protein. Come on. Let’s get outta here.”

You nodded and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, helping him off of the table and walking him out to the truck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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