#oh stupid emotional baby simon :')

[soapsbaby]

Three Little Words

Summary: You tell Simon you love him.

Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader Rating: SFW Word count: 400ish

The first time you tell him that you love him wasn’t planned. It just happened.

You and him were on a walk at night together. Late nights seem to be the only time that he ever genuinely speaks his mind and even just slightly lets you in.

You came to a halt and kissed, wasn’t the first time by far, and it just slipped over your lips before you could think about it, you just can’t help yourself.

His eyes widen in shock and he freezes, you can tell that he is panicking behind his mask. You know he can’t help the way he feels about commitment and big feelings so you just kiss him again and hold him close. 

“You don't have to say it back. I don't expect you to. I just need you to know. It’s okay, I promise.”

You are afraid that you have gone too far, scared him away, but nothing between the two of you changes. He is still the same he was before, makes his stupid jokes, holds you close, kisses you like your lives depend on it.

You are terrified to bring it up again, so you just don’t. Maybe this is just the limit of your relationship and maybe that’s okay. You don’t mind. You understand why it is so hard for him to open up and to let himself feel all of those difficult emotions and you know that pressuring him won’t get you anywhere.

One day you are at his place, having spent the day with him. You are cuddled up to him, head resting on his chest. He is being extra quiet, he must think you have fallen asleep already and you are on the verge of doing so. He is just so comfortable and you feel so safe with him. 

You can tell that he is looking at you, his hands running through your hair.

His voice is quiet, but you hear him clear as day anyway.

“Love you too.” 

[geneviveleocardius]

crying over movies

and pregnant with simon riley’s baby

the sound of your sobs cuts through the quiet of the house, sharp and raw. simon drops the knife he’s been using to chop vegetables, his heart lurching in his chest. it’s not unusual for you to cry these days—pregnancy hormones have been working overtime—but this… this is different. this is gut-wrenching, the kind of crying that makes his pulse race with worry.

he rushes into the living room, where he left you curled up on the couch watching after sun. the sight that greets him stops him in his tracks. you’re a mess, your face red and blotchy, tears streaming down your cheeks, big eyes wide and glassy as you clutch a pillow like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“love?” his voice is low, calm despite the panic clawing at his chest. he crouches in front of you, his hands reaching out to cradle your face. “what’s wrong? is it the baby? are you in pain?”

you shake your head frantically, your sobs hitching as you try to speak. “n-no, it’s not—” a deep breath, and then another sob escapes. “it’s not the baby. it’s—oh my god, simon, it’s just—”

he watches you, his brows furrowed, utterly baffled. “just what?”

“the movie!” you wail, throwing your arms up dramatically. “it was so sad, simon! and—and then i started thinking about us and the baby and—and—oh my god, you’re never gonna be a single parent, okay? i’m never leaving you!”

his eyes widen at the declaration, and he blinks, stunned. “what tha—?”

“and you have to promise me, simon,” you cut him off, your voice shaky but insistent. “if something’s ever bothering you, you’re gonna tell me, right? we’re a team, and i love you so damn much, okay? you can’t ever leave me, because i’d just—” a hiccup. “i’d die without you!”

he stares at you, his lips parted slightly, trying to process the flood of emotions pouring out of you. he’s used to your mood swings by now—the tears over burnt toast, the laughter that turned into crying because of a stupid dog video—but this? this is a whole new level.

you’re still sobbing, your breaths coming in hiccupping gasps, and his heart aches in a way he doesn’t quite understand. “love, you’re gonna hyperventilate,” he mutters, sitting beside you and pulling you into his arms. you melt into him instantly, your hands clutching at his shirt as you bury your face against his chest.

“i mean it, simon,” you mumble, your voice muffled by his shirt. “i’ll never leave you. you’re stuck with me forever.”

he lets out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chest. “bloody hell, i should hope so. wouldn’t have married you otherwise, yeah?”

“and the baby,” you continue, ignoring his attempt to lighten the mood. “we’re gonna be the best parents, and—and if you ever think i’m not doing enough, you have to tell me, okay? i’ll do better. i swear.”

“sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning back so he can tilt your face up to look at him. your tear-streaked cheeks and swollen eyes might look like a disaster to anyone else, but to him, you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “you’re more than enough. you’re everything. and you’re not going anywhere, yeah? we’re fine. we’re better than fine.”

your lower lip trembles, and more tears spill over. “i just—i love you so damn much, simon. you can’t ever leave me. promise me.”

he exhales, a soft huff of disbelief, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you’re unbelievable, you know that?” he mutters against your skin. “but alright. i promise. i’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. happy?”

you nod, sniffling, and wrap your arms tighter around him. “so happy.”

he holds you close, his large hands rubbing slow circles on your back as your sobs gradually quiet into soft hiccups. he’s still not entirely sure how you got from a movie to this existential meltdown, but one thing’s for sure: he wouldn’t trade this chaotic, hormonal, beautiful mess for anything.

[charliemwrites]

Wild random idea for Mister(s) steal your girl- what if reader got pregnant?

(I bet birth control and protection are being used but what if-)

Like later in the future when Reader meets all of the 141, and slowly testing her boundaries out with dating all of them when oh shit- she’s pregnant. She doesn’t know who the bio dad is because she’s been with four of em- but it’s definitely not Brandon’s. Who’s going to be furious I bet. I can see Reader withdrawing from the guys because she’s scared, and she needs to figure out what’s going to happen to her and Brandon. But the 141 are already making future plans for building reader a house with a nursery… getting wedding rings, a funeral for Assha- I mean Brandon. Cuz that’s THEIR baby and future wife.

Anyway- love your writing and I hope you know you have a stranglehold on ALL of us when you put out chapters to your stories. Any story really, delicious storytelling! 90/10 my favorite writer.

Mmm I’ll raise you one and present the idea of Brandon realizing that he’s losing her, so he tampers with the birth control under the stupid idea that if he gets her pregnant, she won’t leave him

:)

Imagine Johnny notices something is off and mentions that her period is late (she didn’t even notice)

Imagine that Gaz is the first one she tells because she has morning sickness

Imagine Simon sits with her as she takes the pregnancy test just to be SURE

Imagine she takes John’s hand during the first appointment to TRIPLE CHECK that she’s for sure pregnant (she is and he holds her while the hormones send her confusing mix of emotions down her cheeks in uncontrollable tears)

Imagine Brandon is the last one to find out and he doesn’t realize until she’s mumbling that the boys are already planning out the nurseries, and Johnny + Gaz are taking her on a shopping spree…

Imagine the glare from Simon when she calls him crying because she couldn’t get to the bathroom on time to throw up and Brandon is too squeamish to help her clean up

Imagine the anytime/anywhere/anything of them bringing her cravings and pregnancy aids

Imagine Gaz letting himself in to cook for his girl(s?) and not letting her lift a finger, throwing mean comments Brandon’s way while he does the dishes. And the vacuuming. And hell, while he’s here, put on his sweatshirt chickadee, your favorite pajamas need a clean.

Imagine how Brandon would spiral because this is all falling apart and how dare these men act like his baby is theirs?? How dare they treat the mother of his child like she’s the mother of theirs?? And why isn’t she putting distance between herself and those men when she’s about to start a family with him????

Now imagine the absolute tantrum he’d throw if the kid came out with Gaz’s dark skin and curls, or Simon’s blond hair, or the Johns’ blue eyes

:)

[lethalchiralium]

You should totally not write a part two to Missus dying during birth. Where it's set month later??? Years later??? 😏😉😏

I mean the double angst would be just to much to bare! 😏😉😏

(No.... because side note I'm living for your GIRL DAD SIMON 😭🫶)

oh so you guys are EVIL evil. i partially wrote some of this way back, i was playing with the thought of her death but decided against it. this did get me in the mood to write for ACTUAL happiness, so watch out for that lol

warnings: alcoholism, grief.

happiness au!

Simon found that could never hold anger like he used to. It dissipates as quickly as it festers, he tried so hard to find something to be angry at over your death. He couldn’t be angry at Roach, he was with you in his place. He couldn’t be angry at Price, he was doing his job. He couldn’t be angry at you because you had done the best you could to get in touch with him. You nurtured his children, one sprinting around and one in your once warm belly.

He held his hand over WInnie’s eyes at the end of the funeral, little Mellie asleep in his arm yet still angling her away from the scene - he couldn’t bear to have his daughters watch their mother be lowered into the ground.

He did discover that alcohol makes the incredible pain disappear just a little.

In the month after your death, it was a cycle for Simon and Price to keep Winnie and Mellie afloat while he destroyed himself as they slept soundly. Drinking himself into a stupor and collapsing on his bedroom floor; his hazed mind forcing him to spread out on the hardwood, telling himself he didn’t deserve to sleep in a bed. In your bed. And despite the dozens of pounds he wasted on alcohol for that first month, the thought of you could never quite escape his mind.

You left nothing to direct him, nothing to guide him. Just hazy memories of your smile, dim visions of the way your skin touched his, faint pulses on his lips of what used to be your heartbeat. You had nothing away, no letters or little notes in any nook and cranny of his home - he checked drunk, he checked sober. He wanted to slam his hand into the wall that morning, hungover and wanting to scream - but his little baby Mellie babbled on his bed, little fingers dug into her stuffed dog, completely unaware of the myriad of emotions painted on the walls. It was like Simon had exploded, his emotions were everywhere.

And after one horrible night, Simon found himself on the floor of his room again. But he wasn’t alone - under his blanketed arm and curled into his side was Winnie, her green bear tucked into her own chest. His heart broke again at that, and even with the intense hangover, he picked up his daughter. He took the few steps back to sit on his bed, her gentle eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Do you wanna sleep up here, lovie?” He asked her, trying to keep his voice even as his head pounded.

“Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” His daughter mumbled, one hand wiping one of her eyes as she looked up at him. That made his heart burn like it had been doused in oil and set aflame. He crawled into the bed that hasn’t known warmth since you died, tucking in his four year old and keeping her close to his chest.

“Dad’s gonna be okay.” He whispered to his daughter, tears spilling from his eyes. “I promise.”

After that early morning, Simon stopped drinking and stayed sober for years afterwards. He was proud of himself for that seemingly small feat, but he was still devastated by the loss of you, he felt it every single day since. Teaching Mellie to walk, to talk, and to run were the first times Simon felt your loss again - he cried tears each time, knowing that it should have been you and him teaching your daughter these things. That you and him should have been teaching your children how to ride a bike, help them with their stupid math homework, help them navigate life.

But it was just Simon, trying to fill your shoes that he never had the heart to move from the front door.

He had tried to quit the 141 when you passed, but Price wouldn’t let him. Keeping him on desk duty meant Simon still got incredible pay and benefits, it meant Simon could take baby Mellie with him to base, it meant he could make it home before his kids got off of school when they were older. He never gave his all to the military again.

He had to learn all about periods when Winnie was twelve so he could help her as best he could. He had to learn all about her friends, then Mellie’s friends - he felt that time was always going too fast. He comforted his children through the loss of their beloved cat. He met boyfriends and girlfriends before his daughters finally fled the nest, leaving him alone for the first time in 22 years.

The month after he was left alone again, he opened a bottle of bourbon. He felt the pain creep back into his skin, he needed relief. He needed to not know what pain was. He’d drink when he was alone. He wouldn’t dare to have a drop when his children were around, when his grandkids were ever in his home. But when he was alone? It seemed just a glass of three fingers turned into a bottle, sleeping a couple hours turned into twenty, three missed calls from Mellie and a seven texts from Winnie - all asking if he was alright, that his constant sleeping was making them nervous.

One day, Simon tried to open his nightstand to find his ID tags, he was drunk the night before and woke up without them. He never slept without them, it was his way of comforting himself with something he’s had almost all his life. The nightstand’s drawer wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t pull open. He reached his hand underneath the drawer to try and dislodge whatever was keeping it from opening - a letter falls into his hand. He grew confused, there is no address or writing on the front - it’s obviously old too. He opened the envelope, seeing a date written on the lip in handwriting he’s wished to read for decades.

The day before Mellie’s birth was written clearly.

He ripped the paper from the envelope and fell to his knees, a photo of you in the hospital floated to the floor as he reads the letter. The last picture of you ever taken, one that came from that little polaroid camera he bought you before he left his whole family for the last time.

You didn’t leave him without direction. He just didn’t know where to look.

i love all the happiness asks so much that the new happiness chapter will be coming very soon

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[ladysmutwriter]

Just a little bit colder

Simon Henriksson x Female!Reader

You walked through the party, beer glass in hand. Then you saw her, speaking to David as she fixed her hair, blood boiling underneath your skin as you stared holes into her skull. Thankfully Simon is here to help.

TW: murdering, cheating (both sides), heavy alcohol drinking.

You were never the jealous type, until she arrived. Pretty large blonde hair, full plump lips, large eyelashes; and all her attention on YOUR boyfriend, who didn't give a shit about making you feel this angry, he'd just mock you for feeling jealous, not knowing how far you'd go for him.

You had gone to a party, a short white dress hugging your body with some heels, "just like an angel" is what David said back at your home, his hands finding it's way underneath your skirt as he massaged your ass, mouth over yours as his tongue playfully entered yours, breaking the kiss too soon as you had to go.

But now he barely looked at you, eyes fixated on the blonde girl in front of him, her golden locks around her fingers as she slid her hand up David's forearm, your pupils dilating with hatred as you forced yourself to look away, finding comfort with the many beers in a table, tears falling down your cheeks ruining your makeup as you desesperately drank one after another, only thinking of how her hands felt against David's hoodie- until a hand collided with yours.

It was Simon, one of David's closest friends, his eyes anxiously staring at yours as he moved his hand, aparently there was only one beer left and he wanted it too, but decided to give up on seeing your drunken, crying state.

"Wanna go outside?"

He said quietly, almost in a whisper- Simon knew how much of a dipshit David was, and he was too scared of telling you how he saw David making out with the blonde girl behind your back, but due to your state he realized you already imagined something like this would happen, so if David was going to leave you all alone least Simon could do is give you a shoulder to cry on, even if he wasn't that close to you.

Grabbing his hand for support, you both stepped outside to the backyard, sitting in some swings as you caressed the beer bottle in your hands, Simon keeping quiet as he stared at his shoes.

Until he felt your hand on his thigh- must be the alcohol, you not realizing how dangerously close to his private parts you were, his face going red at the small contact. Your face was red, tears going down your face as you talked to him about the blonde girl, how perfect she looked, and how David didn't bat an eye when she was coming onto him, even when he always told you he wasn't "the cheating type" oh, how where you so stupid to believe in him? You squeezed Simon's thigh in rage, the pain only turning him on, his hands going to his groin to cover his growing erection- he was into weird stuff, and you crying, all angry was just what he was interested in- but he wasn't stupid enough to let you know, for all he know you barely gave a shit about him, and only talked to him right now because of your drunk state.

He out his hand over yours, his lips opening slowly to tell you what he saw- your eyes opening and closing fast as if trying to understand it, you getting up from the swing as you paced in circles, pulling your hair as you sobbed, finishing by kneeling in front of Simon, laying your head over his thighs as tears stained his jeans, one of his sweaty hands moving from his lap to your head, awkardly patting your head in some sort of comfort, you crying like a baby in front of him, your pretty white dress dirty with beer stains and dirt from the backyard, but it only turned Simon on more.

"You should get her back"

He said without thinking, his eyes going blank and void of emotion, telling you how the girl needed to pay for ruining your relationship- how it was "social justice" even if it was just a little bruising, she deserved it, and you needed to be the one making her pay. How he'd help you distract David so you could have your chance when she was alone- and you smiled at him. Getting up, you climbed onto his lap as your hands caressed his face, his eyes going back to their stressed state as he tried to proccess you climbing onto him, and soon enough, your lips over his, devouring his mouth as your tongue invaded his wet cavern, tasting every inch of him as drool ran down his chin, his hands going to touch your ass, sweaty hands massaging your cheeks before going to your clothed cunt, applying pressure with his whole hand in hopes of finding your clit, his dick painfully straining his jeans now.

Breaking the kiss, you got up and got him up by pulling his hand- you could continue this later, now, you needed to act.

Simon nervously walked inside the house, the music blaring his ears as he walked to where the blonde girl and David where almost humping each other, Simon tapping David's shoulder to get his attention.

"Your girl is passed out on the bedroom upstairs" He lied, but it was enough for David to push the other girl and ask Simon to guide him to you, Simon began trembling as he tried to win as much time as possible.

The blonde girl took out a cigarette and went outside to the parking lot, not aware of your eyes following her until she was far enough of anyone's eyes.

You silently walked behind her, empty beer bottle on hand, bloodshot eyes following her every move, and when she was too busy checking Instagram on her phone, your arm raised, and- glass shattering filled your ears, next to her falling and screaming, your body going on auto pilot mode as you jumped on top of her, stabbing her neck with the broken glass, until she stopped screaming, just blood coming out of her mouth and throat.

Getting up, you grabbed her by the arms and dragged her to the forest behind the house your once white dress covered in booze, dirt and blood.

By the time David hadn't seen you in the bedroom and asked Simon if maybe you left without him, he said he wasn't sure and quickly left David behind as he went to search for you, finding outside the house a big blood splatter leading to the forest- him acting quickly turning on the water hose that was there to water the plants and used it to spray over the blood, it quickly running down the street and loosing it's red color as it mixed with water.

After cleaning the best he could with spraying water on the blood, he went to where the blood trail lead, finding you sitting over a rock, your hands and forearms bloody, dress now covered in mud as well, you lifting your sobbing head towards Simon, eyes filled with translucent tears.

[peachiemilkytea]

ᴛᴜᴛᴛɪ ꜰʀᴜᴛᴛɪ

Pt 1 , Pt 2 , Pt 3

Summary: On her day off from FredBear Diner, (Y/n) hangs out with her long time best friend Cheryl Jo. At a frozen yogurt restaurant, rumors and gossip come up about her boss, William Afton. Though trouble arises with old high school classmates. At the perfect time, Henry calls her with a task.

Parings: Michael Afton x Fem!Reader

Warning: slow burn!! Mention of the F slur (guys I’m lgbtq) , strangers to enemies to friends to lovers?? Catcalling, coming of age, vulgar language, (Y/n) is mentioned throughout this

WC: 39k

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

Skating along the pavement, you can hear everyone talking and cars pass by. The sounds of music coming from my Walkman on my hip. Cheryl and I are getting frozen yogurt. I turned off my walkman and stopped in front of Tutti Frutti's Frozen Yogurt. The jingle bell on the door dinged as I pushed open the door and walked in.

The restaurant walls were light blue and white edges, a white and black tile floor, a pink counter, white countertops, An isle side counter reaching to the end of the other wall, white tables with swivel chairs and pink padded seats. The windows made more light come into the room and they had little ice cream stickers and letters. In one of the seats was a beautiful redheaded girl, short hair curling up and outwards, side bangs curled, dark mahogany eyes, curled lashes and thin plucked eyebrows, and red tinted lips. Shined pearls around her neck, a collared baby pink short sleeved dress, a white belt, and black heels. She turned my way and waved exaggeratedly. I gave her a small smile. “What took you so long?" Cheryl said with an excited smile.

Cheryl Jo, she's always so chipper. When I was sitting on a bench at school for lunch. Yeah I was alone taking up the whole seat with my legs and using my backpack as a pillow. Then Cheryl came up behind me and read the comic book, Vampirella, over my shoulder. Surprisingly the bimbo girl knew about it and ranted to me about the series. Till the two of us were reading it together. It became our routine to see each other at that bench for a while. I miss school even though I graduated. Cheryl is... a bimbo. But she's my bimbette so what can I say? She's very bubbly and chipper. Though she lacks intelligence she has emotional intelligence. In my opinion emotional intelligence is greater than all others. She always gets what she wants but she always takes care of me. She's always there and spoils me. Weirdly enough, she'll get guilty when I give her things but she's always the one spoiling me. Think of a glam being your complete opposite and being your all time best friend. She has a big heart and not a smart brain, but that's okay.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry Cher. I almost hit an old lady on the way here! She's okay though but still!" I said sitting in the seat in front of her flipping my brown flannel back to provide more open space. I leaned my cheek on my hand with my elbow on the table. “Okay anyway, I have some gossip! So I ran into this B-boy at a party I was at. He was necking me and stayed with me the whole night. Saying all the things I wanted to hear right? Then Messila had a drink spilled on her because of this spaz who was fighting with her over some stupid jock. I'm like ugh girls were out of high school and he's in his senior year, grow up and get a real man. I had to leave B-boy and help Messila. Then oh my god I saw Simon making out with John. I don't care what people say they are so cute together. Elton ended up drinking too much and tried flirting with me but I pushed him off like this and yelled 'As if!' He ended up puking all over the pool table. Then B-boy and I met up again. He drove me home. He was just the sweetest!" Cheryl ranted with her wild hand movements and this light in her eye.

Her stories were always so intriguing. You see Cheryl was fairly popular in high school. She was prom queen twice! That popularity stuck with her when high school ended. She'd go to college parties, hang out with important people, buy the most beautiful things, and so on. I'm surprised she's not stuck up for being like this. The movies are wrong about some people. “You got a lot going on. When do I get to meet this B-boy? Wait Elton from high school? The journalist? Those girls sound so immature. I always knew Simon and John had a thing for each other from the stories you told me. They always seemed so... fruity. Good for them! How's college going for you?" I asked, looking at the menu. I got paid by Henry so might as well get something. I'm kinda Henry and William's secretary. I just do whatever they tell me and get it done then I get paid.

"Beauty school has been stellar! I learned about highlights and lowlights, then we got to make solution and use bleach then use dye. The teachers were giving me a bad time cause I fucked up the shampoo or oh! You didn't make the solution right! Ugh. Lowlifes. I keep getting the lowest grades from them. It's like they hate me or something." Cheryl complained. I grabbed her menu and stacked it on top of mine. Getting up from my seat to put it away. She got up with me, leaving her purse at the table. Others got the hint it was our table. “I don't think they hate you, they can be hard on you but it's because they want the best for you when you're out in the real beauty world. I'll let you use me as your beauty project." I said positively. Pausing putting the menus on the counter in front of the cashier. He looked so sick of his job and wearing a stupid hat.

"Um hey, can I get a cookies n' cream swirl and a Royal red velvet please? Two larges." I ordered tugging the collar of my black AC/DC shirt. Fidgety. “That will be 2.25$" The cashier informed me. I handed him two bucks. I didn't even know Cheryl was still complaining next to me. I was too focused on ordering. I grabbed her hand and brought her back to our table. “About being my beauty project, do you mean it? Cause I'm free next week and I'd love to dress you up like my doll!" Cheryl said excitedly, holding the sides of her face. “Sure why not? Just give me a day and I'll see if I have work or not. But in exchange you have to do something for me." I said, leaning my elbow on the chair.

"Deal! You still work at that diner? Honestly, how haven't you started getting with one of those totally cute co-bosses yet?" Cheryl sighed on her palm looking up dreamily. She thinks everyone is attractive though. It's not a bad thing, it's just her. I don't blame her for calling them that because it's true. They are. I'd just never say it outloud.

"Dating your bosses is just a bad idea. If you break up it wouldn't be good for your job. They're both married, Cher. I'm not a homewrecker. Henry is my best friend. I can't picture being in a romantic relationship and Will... is just Will." I said, swaying my head and turning my palm the other direction. “You can't tell me you haven't thought they were cute before." Cheryl said, pushing herself closer over the table, arching her back. Moments like this make me fall deeper into her, she's so pretty. “Like I'd ever say that outloud. Even if I thought they were, it would be weird. They're older than me and my bosses. Best friends even!" I said backing away crossing my arm. I was being defensive, I know.

"I knew you thought they were hot! Anyway I heard this thing about William. How he's mental and he killed a man once." Cheryl whispered looking directly in my eyes with this slyness. That was a suspcious rumor, William? Killing somebody? I can't picture it. Sure he's an mean asshole but he's not a pyscho killer from those horror movies. Though if he did ever kill somebody I wouldn't belive it.

"Those are just silly gossip told by dumbass teens to scare off the kids. Just like how they say the animatronics are gonna follow them home and kill them at night. It's not real. Really stupid. Soon they'll get the adults to say how the animatronics are gonna kill them in the restaurant too." I rolled my eyes, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms. It's normal for people to be afraid of robots but it isn't like they have a mind of their own. They're hunks of metal and wiring.

"What if they are true? What would you do if William was a murder?" Cheryl asked curiously, lifting her head off of her hand. Where is this coming from? people make rumors all the time, but sometimes there true. "... I wouldn't know what I would do." I paused for a moment. Suddenly the waitress came and put our food on our table. I nodded my head silently as a thank you. She seemed to understand and smiled down at me. She took her leave behind the counter. Not even a second later Cheryl seemed to forget the whole thing by getting lost in her frozen yogurt.

I sighed with a lopsided grin. Beginning to dig down into my own sweet treat. Bringing the spoonful to my mouth. I felt the sweet creamy flavors melt. It was bliss. Like a happy place. I didn't want to stop eating even if I got full. I took another bite savoring the flavors. The soft flavors. I looked up to see Cheryl looking back at me. I chuckled softly.

"Is there something on my face?" I asked, feeling the corners of my eyes go up with my grin. Quickly reaching up to wipe off any of the sugary cream off of my face. I didn't feel anything cold. “No, I just like seeing you like this. We haven't had this in a while between work and college. I just missed it." Cheryl admitted. I felt my smile grow bigger. She really knows how to make me blush. We have been busy, it's only been late night phone calls. Meeting in person is so much better. It feels like a break from life.

"Aw I missed this too Cher, we'll do it more often." I said in between bites of my treat. She giggled. Something in me fluttered, like I could explode out of happiness. Even though the treat is cold I have warm feelings. "Wanna go put a song on the jukebox?" She asked, tapping her hand on the table for a minute then pointing to the jukebox by the windows. I nodded excitedly. I choose Should I stay or should I go by The Clash. Taking Cheryl's hands we swayed together. Moving my hips side to side, she did the same. Giggling and squealing, I chuckled breathlessly. Grins plastered on our faces. This lasted for a good long while. After a few others of us being dorks. I skated next to Cheryl and dropped her off at home. I didn't want her walking alone. Skating by myself with the somber music playing from my Walkman on my hip.

"Oh my god is that (Y/n) (L/n)?"

"The quiet kid from high school??"

"Yeah!"

"Woah dude she's hot as hell now."

Well, this is awkward. I looked at the side of my peripheral vision. There was this group of people at the skatepark. I remember them. They were these kids who used to be popular back in high school. Going to parties, doing the dirty, underage drinking, bullying those who are smaller than them, getting into trouble. They tried to pick a fight with me once but I stood my ground. Guess that scared them off. I made a hard turn to the skatepark. I wanted to go on the ramps. Going up and down the boards. Jumping and hitting my heel on the side of the board it flipped, I landed it. Things like this give me adrenaline. I'm an adrenaline junkie. The wind through my hair and the rushing feeling in my veins. Things are getting lighter and faster.

"Hey (L/n!)" one of the guys called out to me with his palm next to mouth. One of the girls waved to me. I hesitantly put my hand up and gave a small wave back. They shouted at me to come over. I slowly skated over and stopped in front of them. They were on the benches next to the park. "Uh hey?" I mumbled putting my hands in my jean pockets. Sometimes I hate that this is a small town. Everybody knows everything and everybody knows everyone. My parents would run into elementary school friends. Yeah.. That bad.

"It's been awhile (Y/n) how have you been?" Matthew, the guy that shouted out to me from before, asked me. You could smell the hairspray from miles away. It burns my nose so much.

"It's been good, I gotta a job and I'm still talking to Cheryl Jo. Not much has been happening." I said kicking my skateboard up and resting my forearms on the top of it as it stands on the bottom. They 'oooo'ed at me obnoxiously.

"Where do you work at?" Jennifer asked me tilting her head and kicking her feet back and forth. She was always hot. A bitch but a hot one. I think she was actually my gay awakening. it was awkard because she's not the best. one time she wrote 'faggot' on a nerdy boys locker with black paint. 

"At a diner." I replied covering up most of the details. I don't want them coming into my job and making a scene or something. Their voices are already so annoying. "How's Cheryl? I miss that babe." Laura said, leaning on the back of her hands. She was sitting on the floor crisscrossing. I'm pretty sure she is in denial cause of her friends. I'm surprised that this group has been with each other after highschool. People go different paths in life but these losers stay together.

"Have you guys made out yet? I wanna be there when you do." Anthony winked flirtatiously. Ew, what the hell dude. That's it, where's the exit? 

"Gag me with a spoon... anyway Cheryl's been good I'm sure you'll find her at one of those crazy college parties." I rolled my eyes. Can they just stop talking to me? Why can't they mind their own business? “Maybe we'll have to go to one of those some time, you can come along too." Jason said slyly, putting his hand around my waist and squeezing it. I elbowed him in his gut. He coughed and backed away. Taking his hand with him.

"Feisty (Y/n)~ you're definitely coming with us next time. You're the type to cause a beer fight!" Kimberly said, leaning against one of the guys. I groaned. I don't even drink alcohol, let alone parties. They're fun sometimes but not all the time. “Well, I've been working under this world class designer. You don't know how much fun it is! I get to show off my clothing designs and go on fancy flights in her private jet." Jennifer bragged, flipping her hair. Basking in her own glory. She was always so narcissistic and an attention whore.

"No way! Good for you Jen!"

"My dad actually got me a job to a big acting career in this upcoming movie. They said they needed young adults and when I rehearsed for it they said I was the best they've ever seen!" Anthony said with a cocky smile. They always have to one up each other. It's always a competition thing. 

They all had such big accomplishments for getting right out of high school, and I work in a children's resturant repairing robots. Maybe I'm angry at them because I'm jealous of them. I felt like I was within and without the conversation. Some passer by that just happened to be watching, like a guy walking his dog or a lady walking her baby in the stroller. Yet I was one of the people engaged and talking about my life. They tore down my accomplishment of getting a job. Then again I didn't say that much about it. I didn't tell them how I work with robots and how I am building my own. Even if I did I'd be called a nerd and laughed at. I just can't win can I?

"Wow (Y/n) you must feel really bad right now. I mean all you're doing is working at a diner. How lame!" Kimberly insulted putting a hand over her mouth but I could still hear her snickers. They were like nails on a chalkboard. “It's not all that bad. The diner has these animatronics. I get to work on them and fix them." I shed a little bit of the truth, letting go of my skateboard and letting it fall to my feet. I want to share what I'm doing too. I want to be on their level.

"Are they sex robots? I wanna see you in action with those." Jason flirted. I could feel myself throw up in my mouth. Anthony hit his shoulder playfully. They all laughed at the stupid flirt. I feel like it was also intended towards me. What's the point in sharing anything with people who don't care? What am I doing? I'm better than this, I don't need their approval. The only thing I need is acceptance from myself. My escape came. My work walkie talkie started to make static noises from inside my backpack. I sighed out of relief. Thank you to whoever is getting me out of this situation! I can make an excuse and leave! The laughter stopped. I pulled out the walkie talkie.

"Hello?"

"(Y/n)! I know it's your day off but can you get Will and I some lunch real quick? Something went wrong with the fridge and it got warm. Our lunches have gone bad." Henry explained guilty over the phone. “Yeah of course? Anything in mind?" I asked, feeling the smile come onto my face. Hearing Henry's voice during a bad time makes my worries go away. “Hold on, let me ask William ... okay we both agreed on In And Out. I'll pay you back." Henry said, chuckling nervously. “Will do! Give me a few minutes and I'll be there. Bye." I hung up the phone and put the antenna back down. I looked up to see the group staring at me with curious intent. Oh hell no.

"This was nice but I'm gonna have to cut this short. My boss needs me for something. I'll see you around." I said putting my phone back into my backpack. I jumped a little onto my skateboard.

"Noo! Don't go yet!"

"Can we go with you?"

"Where are you going?"

"See you around (L/n)!"

They're voices overlapped with each other. I could slightly make sense of it. Waving them goodbye I skated out towards the exit of the park. Sighing out of relief. I turned up the music on my Walkman again. Feeling my shoulders drop, I didn't realize how tense I was. All of them are obnoxious and careless. They have shitty habits that show too much. The only good one is Matthew. He actually cares. 

Back in high school that group was making fun of this quiet boy by ripping up his photos or opening up the door without knocking to the Dark room ruining the photo paper. Matthew was the one that helped grab all the photos and tape them together for the poor boy and bought him new photo paper. There was also this case about this girl. There was a school play and on all of the posters they wrote starring the girls name the slut! Matthew was the one who tore down the posters. Another time this kid came out as trans. That group wrote insulting slurs all over his locker door. Matthew was the one to wipe off the spray paint. The rest are either narcissistic, self absorbed, aggressive, hypersexual, carless, selfish, and obnoxious. They don't know how bad a person can be hurt and neither do they care. I was hoping when high school ended I wouldn't have to see them again.

I stopped in front of the booming restaurant and picked up my skateboard. Turning off my Walkman. Opening the door. I waited in line. This is boring. Why is this line so long? That baby's crying is so loud. Why is it crying? Maybe it didn't like the food. Can babies that young have solid food? Maybe French fries and ketchup or something. Ice cream? I don't remember being a baby. Some people can remember being a baby but I can't. I remember having a dream when I was a baby and this bear came at me to kill me. I don't think babies are supposed to have scary nightmares like that. Unless they're traumatized.

"Hello, how may I take your order?" The cashier asked me. I didn't realize I was at the front. My head was in the clouds. “Hi, may I have a double double, a cheeseburger, two fries, and a milkshake?" I ordered. He was clicking on the register. The total appeared in red letters on the screen. “Your total is 5.34$. We'll call you when your food is ready." He said, I gave him the money. He gave me a little paper with the number 8 on it. I nodded. I took a seat near the counter in these red lounge chairs connected together like a couch. Rolling my skateboard back and forth with my feet. There was a little boy eyeing me playing with my skateboard.

"Hey lady, can you do any cool tricks on that?" He asked. There was a twinkly in his eyes, it's childhood. Oh how I miss that. I graduated high school two years ago and I'm still not sure what I want to be. The world is a complicating place. "Yeah I can do kickflips, Ollie, hardflip, and some others." I explained. The smile on his face grew brigther. He was bouncing in his seat. i could tell the cogs were turning in his head. I just hope he doesn't bombard me with tons of questions like my little brother.

"Wanna play with it for a bit?" I asked him. I slide the skateboard over to him. He picked it up and looked at the design on the back. You know, I made that design myself. To see this kid gush over it like it was some kind of celebrities work made me so happy. “Do I?!" He said excitedly. He swayed the board back and forth with his feet. Little coos and giggles leaving his mouth. There were bandaids on his knees. This little rascal gets into trouble. I can tell. But I'm happy I could make his day.

"You know I ran away from the cops on that thing. Not only that, the cops were pirates! Pirates cops!" I made up. The kid's face was memorable. Lit up with curiosity and adventure, I remember being a kid like that. Being innocent and not knowing where in life I should be. Though my number was called up next. I got up with a "that's me!" And picked up the food in bags. The kids' mom lectured him to give me back my board when I came back.

"Thank you lady for playing with your board!" The boy thanked me. I held up my hand and gave him a high five.  “Thank you for letting him play with your board. You're a very nice young lady." The mom thanked me. I nodded and gave my own welcome. Going out of the restaurant.

ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪɴᴇʀ

[bcolfanfic]

"baby simon was little but not so little that he wasn’t so horribly confused when daddy was just gone. poor little love. for a while he sobbed himself sick when ev held him because yeah he was tall with facial hair but. he wasn’t daddy. wasn’t the tall guy with facial hair that was just holding him a week ago, where’d he go??? when’s he coming back???"

oh my god this is so heartbreaking ): poor little love is right. and it breaks my heart for croz as well because he must have been hurting so deeply to leave his family like that. would love to hear more about the crosby kids in this side b and the parenting side of things with jeanie being with ev and helen.

putting my answer to this below a read more line since i ended up talking about croz/his suicide in the first paragraph. nothing graphic, just heavy emotional talk.

side b croz makes my heart ache. he was hurting so much, and the little part of him that could still be rational at the end did feel horrible about leaving his family. it's a terribly unfortunate truth that these decisions *aren't* rational. he did try so so hard to keep his shit together and stay for jeanie and the kids. there wasn't a second that he didn't love them more than anything. not one </3

poor sweet kids. the stuff with baby simon is so heartbreaking because he knows croz is /gone/ but he's still too little to even understand "daddy died" so he's just. confused. april is old enough to know he died but too little to understand that it's truly permanent. which is frustrating to rebecca and jj because they *do* understand more fully that he isn't coming back. and it's hard for them that they can't make april understand that. always a lot of yelling and crying between the three of them when sweet little april asks one of the grown-ups if he's coming back today </3

blakely kid wise it's just wyatt and sawyer for a while. wyatt is around jj's age and knows that before ev he had a dad that isn't alive anymore. very earnestly tries to make jj feel better by talking about that and it doesn't really land when they're little kids but the understanding does bond them more when they're older. sawyer lovess jeanie. was already such a mama's boy with helen and now there's two of them?!?! always makes jeanie smile on the hard days how much that sweet little guy adores her. sawyer is the perfect combination of the best of ev and helen, and it shows.

when ev and helen do eventually have their third kiddo that's a girl rebecca is nottt happy. gets real upset telling everyone she doesn't understand why they need a girl when they have her and april. sweet baby. she loves ev and helen so much and loves their little family life as unconventional as it is. takes some time for her to get it in that sweet little head that her nor april is being replaced by the new baby girl.

it's not the easiest situation in the world to navigate as they truly start a life together that isn't just surviving in the aftermath of croz passing. a whole lot of people don't get it and even ev's folks that are the most supportive parents on earth are a bit ??? when he finally has to fill them in. the other guys are as understanding as they can be about it and supportive even if they don't fully get it either. "growth" for jamie is keeping his stupid wise crack about ev ~collecting widows~ to himself and benny. he misses croz terribly and knows ev is a good guy. and when the shock wears off with ev's folks they're as loving and kind towards jeanie and the crosby kiddos as they rightfully deserve. jeanie is a sweetheart, it's impossible for any parental unit with hearts to not wanna love and watch out for her.

they all love each other. that counts for something <3

[mermaidsirennikita]

What are your favorite accidental pregnancy (oops baby) books?

HMMMM

These aren't all the books I love with oops babies, but they're all books I love wherein the oops baby is a big plot trigger versus an additive, if that makes sense?

Deep by Kylie Scott is a contemporary rockstar romance where the oops is the whole plot. The heroine is the new sister in law of one of the hero's bandmates (so basically, this is a best friend's brother angle) and she's been flirting hard and trying to seduce the bass player for a whiiile, but he's decently older (she's early 20s, he's late 20s, he's lives a lot of life and she's a coed) and trying to honor the bro code so he resists... until they have a one night stand. It ends badly (hurt feelings) so it's radio silence. uNTIL LOL. One of my favorite pregnancy reveals in a romance novel EVER, it's RIDICULOUSLY dramatic and comical and the entire plot is him having to learn how to show the fuck up for her.

Never Seduce a Duke by Vivienne Lorret. This one has a super nerdy but also stern glasses-wearing duke end up in this cat and mouse situation, chasing the heroine across Europe because he THINKS she stole something from him... Anyway, they sleep together, it's amazing, then they get separated and he thinks she ditched him.... And a couple years later, they run into each other and she has a souvenir from the adventure, as it were. So it's like. Part oops baby, part secret baby. So fun, so hot, so great.

The Recruit by Monica McCarty. My favorite Highland Guard book (thus far). They hook up while she's pretending to be a servant girl, and he says something that really pisses her off. So when her true identity (the woman Robert the Bruce wanted him to marry) is revealed, she's like "yeah it's a no on the marriage" and they part ways. But like, four or five months later they see each other again and he realizes she's pregnant and is like "OH HELL NO" and forces her to marry him lmao

Jane Goes Wild by Farah Heron is like, the aftermath of the oops? The hero and heroine have this amazing flign at the beginning of the book, they're head over heels for each other... and she finds out he's married. And then she finds out she's pregnant. Five years later, they've made it work, he's divorced, they're co-parenting and it's civil but they only see each other when they absolutely must. Until... they both end up at the same destination wedding, and they're both in the wedding party. Feelings ensue!

A Holly Jolly Ever after by Julie Murphy and Sierra Simone. The heroine is a former child star who's recently divorced and starring in a sexy Hallmark Christmas type movie with a former boy bander. She actually has never gotten there~, and she ends up enlisting him to teach her a thing or two. It ends up becoming a hook up situationship, and.... OOPS happens. This one is so hot, so funny, and so authentically emotional (with smart critiques of purity culture).

Out on a Limb by Hannah Bonam-Young. Two strangers meet at a Halloween party, hook up in her friend's guest bedroom, and oops, now there's a baby. This one is really heartfelt and character-centric, and one thing that makes it extra special is that both leads have limb differences! (As does the author.)

The Music of Love by S.M. LaViolette. A mysterious woman gets hired by an arguably more mysterious rich man to be his piano teacher. Issue is, they're stupid attracted to each other, which leads to them hooking up almost immediately... and now she's pregnant. But he's actually pretty honorable and feels bad about knocking his employee up, so ARRANGE THE MARRIAGE! This is so Gothic and OTT in the best way, I adore it. The hero also has albinism (hence him not leaving his house often, he's treated horribly by society and he does genuinely need to stay out of the sun) which I haven't read in any other romance novel. Also. His name is Eustace. But he's called STACY. And that's the kind of historical romance hero name I find stupid hot.

[eugenedream]

I SAID THAT IT WAS ON PURPOSE - there is no such thing as coincidence- they know that we know and they’re either punishing us or stress testing - I don’t know if they want to see if omega will do something stupid like hurt herself or if they want to see if the boys get as bad but this is for a reason

Or maybe this was planned before we knew and they have always just wanted to see what would happen if they took all four boys at once after everyone had bonded- they would have always had to stagger otherwise it would have been too suspicious otherwise and especially after John lost his shit at them

POOKIE IS GONNA DISTRESS AND JOHN ISNT THERE oh sweet baby jesus and the grown one tooooooo - i miss john too pookie girl

why does keller need to run to her office??? i don’t like this…SUSPICIOUS

I TOLD YOU IT WAS SUSPICIOUS - are they gonna ransom her??? are the boys gonna find out while they’re away? are they gonna call and keller will have to tell them?? or are they not going to find out until they come home??? how long are they gonna have her for???

Can John feel the distress through the bond?? Or is there any kind of intuition happening, feeling that something is off??? The boys must be sus of sending all of them at once.

Honestly, I’m kinda keen to see the boys loose their shit and go scorched earth to get omega back. All that training is gonna pay off. Simon is gonna absolutely bludgeon some people to death. John is probably gonna murder a whole load of people. And the reunion is gonna be emotional and full of lots of cuddles. And then none of them will leave her sight for at least forever ☺️

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 32: The Tragedy

Summary: Don't trust anyone. That's the advice you were left with. How much should you follow that advice? How much will you have to follow it?

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,058 words

Warnings: ANGST, heavy emotional turmoil, very detailed descriptions of depression, ANGST, panic attacks, lots of thoughts of death and crisis, distrust, anxiety, ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, ANGST, betrayal, weapons, guns, blood (barely), brief violence at the end, drugging (more sedation than anything), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, incorrect medical stuff again, oh and ANGST

A/N: Sorry

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

The world is painted in grey as you stare at the wall. Your eyes trace over the pencil lines on the paper as if it might bring you some sort of comfort, as if it might bring them back to you. 

Johnny put the drawings up after your heat, ones he'd done while watching over you as you slept the days away. Strawberries, rolling hills, you asleep in a field of flowers. Visages of the outside world, a place that seems almost foreign to you. 

Despite their absence you're still a prisoner, still locked in your tower. Dr. Keller is your guard now, dutifully watching over you as she had promised Simon and Johnny she would. She’s done it successfully before, or at least she was as successful as you allowed her to be, as you had kept her in the dark just as much as your pack. Obviously they trusted that she hadn’t known, otherwise they wouldn’t have left you here with her. 

It’s not like they had much of a choice. 

She's moved into the spare room temporarily so you're not alone. Your pack's barracks are far more spacious than her own room in the barracks with the rest of the medical staff. You almost wish you'd gone to stay with her. Anything would be better than your grey prison. 

You get to leave now, only long enough to walk to the mess and back, and occasionally to the med center. You don’t get to eat in the mess, staying just long enough to grab food before you’re ushered back to your grey prison. You've gone to Dr. Keller's office twice, but even then it had been a short stop so she could grab some paperwork before you returned to the barracks.

The grey and white of your home has never affected you in such a way before. You've been able to look past the sterile halls and prison grey walls of the rooms until now, until you’ve become a bit stir-crazy. You’re afraid you might actually go crazy, driven to insanity in your isolation. 

There's been no word on when your pack might return. There's been no word at all from them.

For all you know, they’re dead. 

You've gone numb to that thought, the tears not even stinging at your eyes at the idea. You're empty, the only thing you're capable of feeling is the steady churning of your stomach. It's been two months since you revealed the cameras and you're still sick, still in pain. 

What if they don't come back because they hate you? What if they've abandoned you here? 

You're not sure you could even react to that if it does happen. You can’t even react to the thought of it happening. There’s no drive to, no instinct to be upset by the idea of being abandoned. For all you know it’s already happened. 

You turn over onto your other side, facing the room. It’s Johnny’s room you’re in, the most welcome place in the barracks. It’s the place you spent the most time before they left, isolated just to Johnny’s arms by Simon’s anger at your betrayal. He’d only cared for you out of necessity, the progress you made with him all wiped out because of your own stupidity. 

Those thoughts don’t even bring a tear to your eye anymore. He never wanted you, he wouldn’t have chosen you. 

So why did it hurt so much? 

Dr. Keller is worried, but it's her job to be worried. You've shut down, shut out everything. You're not capable of much more than laying around numb and depressed. The scents are fading, quickly disappearing and being replaced by the bitter scent of your depression. 

Depression. That's what Dr. Keller said. Not surprising given the circumstances. You're not surprised either. Then again, you can't feel much of anything anymore. There’s no hope left, the memories of them fading as fast as their scents. They’ve moved on, or they’ve died. Regardless, they’re not coming back. 

You’re alone again, abandoned by those you loved, those supposed to take care of you. 

You can only count leaves on the plant hanging from the ceiling of Dr. Keller’s office so many times. You’ve given up sitting, instead curled up in a ball as you stare at the plant, counting leaves up and down the vines. Dr. Keller is at her desk, writing and shuffling papers, doing what she normally does during the day. Doing what she had last time you had been left alone. 

She had the idea that leaving the barracks might be good for you. A change of scenery, a more comfortable and warm setting, might help your depression. Escaping the oppressive grey walls of your prison for some fresh air might aid in her efforts to help you wallow less in your misery. Being free of the suffocating walls of the barracks might help free you from the constant memories of what was, what might have been, what’s left you behind. 

Your stomach still hurts. The ache had intensified as soon as they told you they were leaving too, that John and Kyle were so desperate for backup they had to call everyone in. It had made you uneasy, the idea of being alone so soon after everything, the idea that things might be going so badly that they need help. The memory of what had transpired while you were alone the first time makes you nervous. 

What if it happens again?

What if something worse happens? 

You won’t be stupid this time, you told yourself. If anything is off, you’ll notify Dr. Keller immediately. You’re not making that mistake again. If you did make that mistake, the consequences wouldn’t just be dealt out by whoever is so desperate to get to you, to watch you. Your pack will leave you, will mark you as untrustworthy and give you up, or worse, throw you in a cell until you can be sent back home, back to the institute. Maybe they would be merciful and send you back to the CIA. What would the CIA do though? They couldn’t send you to another pack, not in the initiative, not with you already having been claimed. They wouldn’t take that risk when the severing of those bonds would destroy you and everything that you are. 

Maybe if you’re lucky, it’ll kill you. Save you from the pain and mental anguish after the severing of a bond. 

“Hungry?” Dr. Keller asks. It’s close to lunch, you think. Time is meaningless, the only routine you have left the necessary mealtimes Dr. Keller insists on keeping. Even then, if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t know when those were supposed to be. 

“No.” You murmur, still staring at the plant. The leaves have begun to blur, blending together as your eyes unfocus. 

“You should eat.” She says. 

“Not hungry.” You say. “Stomach hurts.” 

She sighs softly, pushing her chair back before walking over to you. She drops to a knee in front of the couch, staring at you. “How long has it been hurting?” 

“Weeks.” You say, still not looking at her. 

“Weeks?” She sounds surprised. “You didn’t say anything. Nausea? Any headaches?” She asks. 

“Uh huh.” You nod.

“Any fever, body aches, congestion, dizziness?” She asks. 

“Body aches.” You say, finally looking up at her. 

She hums, staring at you for a moment. Her face is the usual clinical mask she wears when she’s in doctor mode, but you can make out the slight furrow of her brow as she thinks. She puts a hand on your forehead, your skin cold instead of the warmth it would usually have. Even you’ve noticed it in your numb state, your fingers and toes aching constantly from how cold they are. 

She removes her hand, letting out a quiet breath. “Well, my dear.” She says, staring down at you. “I’m diagnosing you with stress.” She says, resting her arms on her knee. “It’s been a long few weeks, and then with your alpha leaving on top of it, I’m not surprised by your symptoms. I know you may not feel like it, but eating will help. You’ll be no good to your pack when they return if you’re wasting away.” 

“If they return.” You say, not even able to sound worried like you did last time. There’s no tears, no panic, not even a hint of worry. 

“They will.” She says, pushing herself up to stand. “They know what they’re doing and all we can do is trust their skills.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You murmur, taking her offered hand to get yourself up off the couch. You’ve heard it a thousand times. “I know.” 

“Come on,” She says, giving you a smile. “Let’s get some lunch and then we can eat in the barracks again. Watch some dumb daytime TV show for a while.” 

“Yeah.” You say, trying to sound excited as you follow her out the door. It’s been your routine for weeks. You’re growing sick of it, but what else is there to do? Read? Sleep? Lay numbly in bed staring at the ceiling until it blurs together or until you inevitably pass out from exhaustion? 

Your life has become sad and pathetic, and it’s all your fault. 

The days continue to drag on, every one without a single word of your pack driving you deeper and deeper into the hole you’ve already sunk into. You’re not drowning anymore, not clawing desperately to the surface, praying you can cling to hope long enough to drag yourself out of the depression. Now you’re just sinking, letting the weight of your numbness drag you down until the pressure becomes too much and you implode. 

You miss them so badly it hurts. 

Do they miss you? Do they think about you? Have they even thought about you? Did John and Kyle ask about you when Johnny and Simon arrived? What did they ask about? What did they say? 

Or perhaps they just mutually agreed this was the opportunity to leave you, the chance to move on and make the job 100% of their lives again. No more worry, no more stress, no more distraction, no more needy omega clinging to them every minute of every day. 

Maybe you should have been less needy, less reliant. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so close. It would at least have been easier on you. The job comes first. Why couldn’t you have kept yourself under that rule, distanced yourself to make this pain less severe? 

Why didn’t you just tell them right away? 

“How are you doing over there?” Dr. Keller’s voice breaks through the endless haze of thoughts. 

You’re in the rec room with her, your most frequented place over the last few weeks. You might as well have moved in there. It would almost be better than the four places that only serve as constant reminders of what is gone. You could sleep in your room, but it’s been tainted, ruined. It’s not safe anymore. Even with your pack you hadn’t felt comfortable to be in there longer than it took to grab clothes. 

“They left me.” You say quietly, voice muffled by the pillow your face is pressed into. You’re on your stomach on the couch, a blanket thrown over your back. 

“Not by any choice of theirs.” She says. She’s sitting in the chair, Simon’s chair, but you can’t bring yourself to tell her. He’s gone. It’s not his place anymore. 

“They’re not coming back.” You say, fingers digging into the front of your sweatshirt where they’re tucked under you. 

“You don’t know that.” Dr. Keller says, closing her book. “Those men would fight from the brink of death to make it back to you.” 

“They hate me.” You say, nails digging into your palms from how tightly you’re gripping the fabric. 

“They don’t hate you.” She says softly. “They may have been a bit upset, but they’d never hate you.” 

“Simon does.” 

She lets out a quiet laugh. “Lieutenant Riley is his own beast.” She pushes herself up to stand, taking a seat on the edge of the couch next to you. “He’s in his head just as much as you are. In my professional opinion, he could use some therapy as well. Some extensive therapy.” Her hand comes to rest on your back, rubbing it gently.

You’re thrown back to the times you were sick when your mother would rub your back, almost as if she was trying to ease the sickness away. You are sick. Sick in your own grief and disappointment and anger with yourself. The depression is its own sickness eating away at you. You’re not even sure your pack’s return could cure it now. You might be too far gone, your brain too convinced that they’re not coming back that you won’t believe it when they do. They won’t return for you, they won’t be happy to see you. They won’t be real. 

Dr. Keller lets out a quiet sigh. “I don’t think any of them are capable of hating you. Even Lieutenant Riley. They love you too much to abandon you like that. I don’t think they’re capable of abandoning you at all. I’m sure they’re just as worried, just as eager to get back here.” 

She pats your back before holding her hand still. It’s warm through the fabric of your sweatshirt. It’s almost comforting, almost seeping through the chill that’s taken over you despite the warm summer air outside. 

“I’m sorry you have to go through this.” She continues, her voice soft and laced with emotion. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. You don’t deserve it. It’s not good for you mentally or physically. It’s downright cruel. I thought maybe at first that you’d be taken care of, that you’d be taken into consideration as much as they are.” She scoffs. “I was stupid to think they’d ever give an omega the decency of being considered a human being.” 

Her voice is determined, almost angry. She’s not angry at you, she’s angry at the program, at the initiative, at those above you making the decision, pulling the strings, controlling every part of your pack. You can almost feel it, the passion, the compassion for omegas that she carries. She knows firsthand what it’s like. Even before she became a specialist she knew. She could have presented as an omega herself. Instead she was blessed with presenting as a beta, able to be seen as a human being, able to have rights and make decisions for herself. 

“I’m not going to give up on you.” She pats your back gently. “Once your pack returns, I think we need to have a long discussion about the future of this initiative.” 

“Are they going to take me away?” You ask. 

“No.” Dr. Keller says. “Your pack will fight for you. I will fight for you. But this isn’t good for you. It’s making you sick. I’m worried about what might happen if it continues.” 

You slide your arms up, wrapping them around your pillow. “They’re not going to give it up, their jobs. They won’t. I hate it.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them. “I hate that they don’t put me first. I hate that they have to hide things from me, keep things from me. Why is it fair that they can keep things that might put me in danger hidden, but I can’t do it without them getting mad at me? I hate that they have to leave, that they can just leave so easily. I hate their job, I hate what they do when they’re away. I hate them sometimes because they don’t even think twice about hurting me.” The nausea churns in your stomach, threatening to rise again. “It hurts a-and t’s not fair!” 

Dr. Keller shushes you gently as you press your face down into the pillow, tears pricking at your eyes for the first time in almost two weeks. “I know. The CIA should have had an omega expert in on this from the start. There should have been someone that could advocate for the omegas they want to throw into these positions. I hate this too, what they do to you, what they put you through,” Her voice goes quiet, so quiet you almost can’t hear it. “What they will put you through.” She runs a hand over the back of your head, trying to soothe you. “All we can do is cling to the hope that word will come in soon that your pack is on their way home.” 

You want to believe her. You want to believe she’s telling the truth, that they will be coming home. You want to have that hope, but hope has long faded from your mind. You don’t have hope anymore, as much as she tries to instill it in you. 

The days continue to drag on. There’s been no word on their status, no calls, not even a text. Dr. Keller has tried to get ahold of Kate, but she’s been unsuccessful. It hurts. You feel abandoned, even by those that were supposed to be available, those that were supposed to help you. It all feels wrong. There’s something happening. You can feel it. 

Something is changing, something is ticking at the back of your neck. It could just be the paranoia, the fear, the unease brought on by the isolation and the separation from your pack. It’s not normal. Johnny and Simon promised they’d do everything in their power to get a hold of you when they can. 

Unless they can’t. 

What if they’ve been trying but no messages are getting through? What if there’s something along the line blocking them? What if there’s someone purposefully keeping those messages from coming through? Purposefully isolating you from your pack. 

The thought has a chill running down your spine. There’s things happening behind the scenes you can’t even fathom. Things beyond you, things beyond Dr. Keller and even John. Someone had those cameras put up. Someone was watching you, even after you found them and hid them. Someone wanted to see you, wanted to watch you with your pack. 

Why? 

It all seems too coincidental. John and Kyle being called away and then Johnny and Simon weeks later, isolating you from your pack. No word has been coming through, possibly no word from anyone getting to them. They won’t know what state you’re in, they won’t know something is wrong. If anything happened to you, they wouldn’t know. They’d have no idea until it was possibly too late. 

You’ve been isolated on purpose. 

All five of you. 

What if it’s Kate? 

You don’t want to believe it. You don’t want to even think about it. Who has contact with them during their missions, though? Who has been in control of relaying messages back and forth to everyone? Would she do it? Was she capable of such betrayal? John trusts her more than anyone besides the members of your pack. They’ve known each other for a long time, why would she betray them like this? 

You can’t trust anyone. 

The nausea churns in your stomach, threatening to choke you for a different reason this time. You’re beginning to panic, and while it’s nice to finally feel something, this is almost worse. You’d prefer the numbing depression, the emptiness, the inability to think. This is worse. It’s so much worse. 

So many thoughts are flying around in your head, your stomach aching as you begin to panic. You’re not safe. You’re not safe here alone, not even with Dr. Keller. There’s too many chances. You’re too open and exposed. 

You can’t trust anyone. 

What if your pack is in on it? What if they were responsible for all of this? What if they knew Shepherd was coming and hid it from you on purpose? What if they had the cameras put up to watch what you do when they’re away? What if they’ve been surveying you to report to the higher ups about your progress and the initiative? 

What if they pretended they didn’t know to see how long you’d hide it, how you’d take it if they were upset at you, how far they could push you before you’d crumble? 

What if they left on purpose to make you crumble?

You can’t verify it. You can’t even know if those orders were real, if they ever came in. You’ll never know because you can’t because they have to keep you safe. What if Kate doesn’t even know they’re gone? What if they’re sitting in a pub in Hereford watching you fall apart at the seams? You want to leave, you want to run there, comb every inch of town just to find them and scream at them. What if they’re too cowardly to force you out themselves? What if they want you to leave, and they’re pushing you to the point you want to?

“Hey,” Dr. Keller kneels in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. “I need you to breathe for me.” 

You stare at her face, the furrow of her brow, the worry in her kind eyes. You feel sick, your stomach churning. You want to vomit, you want to puke up all the worry and the depression and the stress. You want it all to be over with, you want it all to end. 

“Come on.” She says, squeezing your shoulders tighter. “In and out, nice and slow.” 

You can’t. You can’t breathe. The world is falling apart around you and there’s nothing you can do about it. Your breaths catch in your throat, stuttering as your lungs spasm. You’re beginning to tense, your joints locking into place. It’s not all that different from a few weeks ago in the rec room with Simon as you panicked. 

Only there’s no alpha to help you this time. 

“Come on.” Dr. Keller says, hauling you to your feet. It’s like trying to move a mannequin, your joints locked into place, dead weight as she half drags you down the hall and into one of the exam rooms. She manages it, stronger than you thought as she moves you easily into the private room. It’s the one you spent your heat in, still set up just like it had been then.

She gets you into a chair, wheeling over the oxygen. It’s cold as it hits your face, a clammy sweat covering your skin. Your hands close around the arms of the chair, fingers clenching until they pop and ache, shaking from the force but you can’t let go. You cling to the chair like it’s the last thing keeping you sane, keeping you in place, keeping you from floating away. 

Maybe then they’ll come back. Maybe then they’ll feel guilty for doing this to you. 

Dr. Keller approaches with a syringe, wheeling the tray closer before setting it on top. You stare at it, tears slipping around the mask before dripping onto your chest. “It’s a sedative.” She says, putting a damp paper towel on the back of your neck. It’s cold, still dripping water. “If you go into distress, our only option is to put you under and hope it calms your brain fast enough that you’re not going to lose yourself to your omega.” 

You almost wish she’d let you. It would be an easier end than finding out your pack was involved in all of this. You’d fade away, let your omega take over until the toll was too great on your body and you died before you even knew what happened. 

It almost sounds blissful right now. 

“Easy.” Dr. Keller says, cupping your face. “Don’t think too much. That’s just going to send you spiraling even more.” 

If only it was that easy.

She gently peels your fingers from the arms of the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. Your hands close around your arms, squeezing until it hurts, until you’re sure you’re going to have bruises. It’s a comforting position though, even without anything pressed against your chest. 

You miss your bear. You miss having John wrapped around you, offering you comfort only he can. You want him back, you want to be in his arms again. You want your safe space back, your nest, your pillows and stuffed animals. You want your alpha no matter what. Even if he is behind this or not, if he’s involved, you don’t care. You need your alpha again. 

The air in your lungs rattles as Dr. Keller replaces the paper towel on your neck. It drips down your back, sliding down your spine. Goosebumps rise on your skin but it begins to calm you, shocking your system out of the edges of distress it had been rapidly falling towards. It makes you miss being numb. Numbness was at least better than the dangerously high panic of distress. 

You can’t even be stressed without being in danger of your own body. 

The churning in your stomach intensifies and you rip the oxygen mask off, bending forward as you take deep breaths. You don’t want to vomit, especially not on Dr. Keller’s nice shoes. Your hands grip the arms of the chair again, eyes squeezing closed as you breathe. 

“Good.” She says, rubbing your back. “Keep breathing like that.” 

She steps away for a moment to grab another wet paper towel as you continue to focus on your breathing, in and out. You pretend John is there, breathing with you slow and even. You can hear it in his chest, feel the rise and fall as he inhales and exhales with you. The steadiness of his heartbeat that never seems to raise, even when he’s stressed, thumps under your ear. He’s always so calm, always so aware, always so capable of acting even in the most stressful situation. 

A strength he possesses thanks to his job. 

“I miss my alpha.” You whimper as your joints begin to unlock, muscles relaxing. 

“I know.” She says, replacing the cold paper towel. She squeezes the back of your neck gently for a moment, sending a cascade of cold water that soaks into your shirt before she releases you. Something prickles in the back of your mind as she moves her hand, the back of your neck tingling and not from the cold. 

You continue to breathe deeply, the hitch in your lungs slowly lessening until it's gone, the air flowing in and out evenly. The air in the room is cold, only made worse by the sweat on your skin. You’re trembling, the effects of the almost distress coming down, leaving you a mess. More of a mess than you had just been. 

“I just want him back.” You croak out, the tears still falling. 

“I know.” She repeats, easing you back so you’re reclined back in the chair. She stares at you for a moment, chewing on her lip before she nods. “I’m going to make a few calls.” 

The days continue to go by in a haze. You’re not sure what to think anymore, the numbness  and stress battling in your brain for control. The near distress you went into has left you exhausted and burnt out, yet your thoughts won’t let you relax. You just want your alpha, the need sinking deep into your bones, nearly consuming you now. 

It’s getting colder, Fall making its rapid approach. A couple short months and it’ll mark a year since your arrival, a year since this entire thing started, since you joined your new pack. To think it might not even last a year. That was the point, though, to test if it would work and how long it would work. 

Less than a year. Hope you’re happy with those results. 

It’s windy today, blowing hard enough you can hear it inside the barracks. The whooshing as the air hits the side of the building, being forced over the top of the immovable object in its path. It’s grey outside too, the sky cloudy. It might rain, though it’s hard to tell. It’s been grey for the last couple days, the weather always seeming to be in tune with your emotions. 

You’re seated on Johnny’s bed, knees pulled up to your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve seen your packmates, since you’ve seen your alpha. They almost feel like a distant memory, thoughts of them floating around the empty barracks like a ghost, haunting your mind. All of them seem like ghosts now. You’re scared you’ll forget what they look like, what they smell like, what they sound like. Your brain is being clouded by your own roiling emotions, slamming up against the sides of your brain like the wind outside. 

It’s confusing, the violent rocking of your mind between numbness and stress in the storm that’s raging in your amygdala. It would be nice if it could pick one, choose a direction and send you head on into the storm or the doldrums. You want the numbness back, the clouding of your thoughts, the slowing of your body to a crawl. It would be a relief over the alternative point where you risk distress every minute. 

There’s no help for you. 

“Ready?” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door as she knocks quietly. It’s lunch, the usual time the two of you go. Early enough the mess isn’t as crowded. The last thing you need is a confrontation, or for you to panic like you did the day you revealed the cameras to Simon. 

Dr. Keller could help you, would know how to help you through that, but you’re not sure you could handle that stress, that embarrassment of falling apart in front of the soldiers that already send judgemental looks your way. Falling apart again. 

Not when you can’t trust anyone. 

The words still float through your mind, one of the last things John had said to you before he left. Before he abandoned you. 

Don’t trust anyone. 

Anyone could be a threat. 

Dr. Keller knocks again, calling out your name softly. 

You force yourself off of Johnny’s bed, your joints cracking as you stand. You’ve been in that position far too long. Your body has stiffened, losing the flexibility you once had in the weeks since John left. You’re not even sure you could run as fast as you used to. There’s no space to do it in the barracks, and with how numb you’ve been, you have no drive to even reach down and touch your toes anymore. For all you know you’ll fall forward onto your face and break your nose if you try. 

You open the door with a sigh, looking up at Dr. Keller. You’re sure you look like death...you have probably looked like death for a while. The constant rocking between stress and numbness has made you feel that way, and has likely made it worse. It’s been a long time since you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror, you’re not even sure you remember what you look like. 

You don’t care anymore. 

There’s no one to impress here. 

The less alive, the less enticing you look, the more likely it is to keep audacious alphas away. 

“Ready?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowed slightly as she looks down at you. 

You nod, knowing you have no choice. “Yeah.” 

She nods. “Okay, I-” She’s cut off as her phone begins to ring, the loud ringtone slicing through the air. She keeps it on at all hours in case someone calls about your pack. 

For just a moment you feel hope, something coming back to life inside of you as her phone rings. Could it be Kate? Could it be someone with word of the status of your pack? Maybe it is your pack, calling just to let you hear their voice. 

Maybe for the last time. 

That hope fades as Dr. Keller frowns. “One second.” She steps down the hallway to answer, leaving just enough space between you, you can’t hear what’s being said on the other end. 

You don’t really care to hear, leaning against the wall as you wait. It’s not about your pack, obviously. The thought stings. Still there’s been no word, not even a text. The drop of excitement is almost worse than the numbness, the acceptance that you’re not getting any word, that had begun to form in your mind. 

Dr. Keller walks back up to you, the frown on her face deeper than it had been. It had been a short call, most of the talking done by the person on the other side, you assume. Her answers had been short and simple. Whoever it was...it must not have been good judging by her face. 

“I have to run to my office.” She says. “I need you to stay here.” 

Your heart rate picks up at her words. She’s leaving you alone? You’ve gone back and forth with her so many times, why does she have to go alone now? Maybe whoever had called wanted to continue the conversation without the risk of anyone listening in. 

Who called her, and what did they say to get her to break her promises to your pack? 

“I’ll be right back.” She says, sounding anxious to get to her office. “You’ll be okay here? I won’t be gone long.” 

You nod. You’re not sure you have much of a choice but to agree, but you’re also not about to argue. It’ll be the first time you’ve been alone since the day you confessed to your pack. You’re itching for it now, just a second to be truly alone. Just a second to breathe.

“Don’t leave the barracks.” She says pointedly. “John will have my hide if he finds out.

You shrug. “Don’t know where I’d go anyway.” 

She nods, accepting your answer. It is the truth. You wouldn’t have left anyway. “You call me immediately if anything happens. I’ll be just a couple minutes.” 

You nod in understanding. “I’ll be here.” 

“Good.” She seems satisfied by your answer as she turns to jog down the hallway. 

Good thing she’s wearing comfortable shoes compared to the ones she normally does.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief as soon as the door closes. You stand there in the silence of the barracks for a moment. You’re finally alone, the oppressive feeling of being watched, of being held prisoner lifting just a bit. Sure you can’t leave, but you couldn’t do that before anyway. You head for the rec room, walking as silently as you can, almost as if one of your pack members will jump out from around the corner and reprimand you for being alone. It’s not your fault. Dr. Keller was the one who left you. 

You try not to think about what that phone call had been about as you grab a snack, tiding yourself over before Dr. Keller returns. She said she’d only be a minute, but you’re not sure how long it really will take. You’re silently glad for the break, silently glad for the ability to rest in silence, even if it is only for a couple of minutes. 

You’re not sure what to do with your newfound freedom. It’s not like you didn’t have freedom before, but at least now you feel like you normally do, free to wander around and go to the bathroom by yourself. 

You’re going to do just that. 

It’s instinctual that you choose Simon’s room. You’ve been using his shower still, comforted by the routine you picked up during the time he and Johnny were still with you. It’s comforting, so much so you’ve made sure you hang your towel where it’s supposed to go, and put your soap and shampoo back in place with his. He’d be angry if he came back to find his room a mess, the order he exists in disrupted. 

More angry than he already is with you. 

You let out a sigh as you leave the bathroom, eyeing the books on his dresser. You’ve read all of yours already, and there’s nothing new in the rec room. You haven’t felt like reading much, and you’ve already read all of yours. Now, though, as life begins to fill you again, you feel the urge to do something. 

The spines of the books are slightly dusty as you run your fingers across them. You’ll need to clean again soon. You’d forced yourself to do all of their laundry once their shirts lost their scent. It was beginning to stink and after being gone so long, you doubt they’ll want to come back to stinky dirty clothes. 

Maybe you should clean their rooms too. Dr. Keller has been saying it might be helpful to do something productive. 

And this way it might help in case they do return. Omegas are supposed to keep house. It’s what you’ve been taught to do. The last thing you want is for them to be upset with you for not doing your duties. 

You grab one of the books randomly before slipping back out of the room, closing the door behind you. Your steps are still instinctively quiet as you make your way down the hallway. Until you freeze mid-step. There’s a sound ahead near the rec room, the wind outside getting louder for a moment before it quiets again. 

Someone opened the door. Someone is inside. 

Your breathing hitches as you take a step back, then another moving backwards down the hallway. Dr. Keller did say she’d be back soon, but why would she go through that door? She knows your pack always uses the door at the front, the door behind you to enter. That door only gets used when the guys smoke outside, or when Simon and Johnny have to leave during your heats. 

Whoever entered wouldn’t know that. 

Dr. Keller doesn’t smoke. 

You stumble back to the nearest door, fumbling with the handle for a second before slipping inside. You close the door quietly, clicking the lock before pushing the dresser in front of the door. It’s your room you’ve taken refuge in. There’s dust coating everything, floating around you as you disturb the stale air. You hold your breath, fighting the urge to cough as you wait, hoping the air filters hide your scent before they make it down the hallway. 

Your hands are shaking, gripping the book tightly in your hand. If nothing else, you can use it as a weapon. Simon would be proud of that, improvising a weapon to protect yourself. The panic is rising in you as you wait, the silence of the barracks the only thing allowing you to hear the quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. There’s a nervous fluttering in your chest as you wait, trying to keep your breathing under control. If it’s Dr. Keller she’ll knock, she’ll say something to let you know it’s her. She wouldn’t sneak around the barracks. She knows how much stress you’ve been under. She wouldn’t try to scare you like this. 

A scream dies in your throat as the door handle starts to jiggle, forced back by your own panic. Whoever it is on the other side is trying to get in. You're thrown back into the terror of your first time alone, when someone tried to enter your room in the middle of the night. 

You’re not going to be stupid this time. You’re not going to face this alone. Your fingers fumble around your phone, barely able to unlock it as the jiggling of the handle gets more aggressive. Whoever it is, they’re determined to get in. 

You press Dr. Keller’s number, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you lift it to your ear. It rings in your ear, the sound echoing outside the door. Your stomach drops, following your phone as it slips out of your hand, still calling Dr. Keller. The ringtone echoes in the empty hallway, quickly drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. 

The sudden phone call, leaving you alone for the first time in weeks to run to her office, entering through the wrong door...

No...it can’t be. 

The door shudders as something rams against it. You have to hide, you have to get out. You can’t hide in the closet or under the bed. Even the bathroom wouldn’t be smart. It’ll leave you too vulnerable. If whoever it is can break through your door, they’ll get through the bathroom easily. You turn to look at the window. You have to get out. You have to get help. 

There could be others out there, waiting for you to try. 

You have no other choice. Better to try and fight than to stand there and let it happen. That’s what Simon always says. 

You can defend yourself. You can fight until you get a chance to run. You can run. You’re an omega. Running is what you do. 

You barely remember to pick up your phone before you climb onto your desk, not caring as you knock things off. You have to move fast. Whoever it is on the other side of the door probably heard that, probably has figured out you’re going for the window. You have to get out. You have to run. The window slides open slowly, the adrenaline pumping through you, giving you strength you didn’t know you were capable of. You’re not sure you’ve ever opened the window in the time you’ve been here. You squeeze through the opening just big enough to fit you through. You don’t waste time looking back as you take off running, heading in the direction of the trees. 

You’re alone, kicking up gravel as you run to the road. You have to find someone to help you before whoever it was catches up to you. Would they be that brave to attack you in the middle of the base? Would they try something with witnesses around?

You can’t trust anyone.

Would they even believe you if you did try? Or would they take advantage of your state, tricking you into believing them before dragging you into a dark corner? Even if you try to go to the higher ups on base, who would you tell? How would you even find them? 

You can’t trust anyone. 

Instead you choose the trees, racing down the road you had followed Price down not long after your arrival. You thank the CIA for making you run, you thank the guys for letting  you run laps to keep your strength and stamina as you tear down the road, getting glances as you go. You haven’t lost much of your ability, not even in the weeks you’ve been almost completely sedentary. It’s partially the adrenaline, partially your own fear, partially your instincts to escape from danger helping you sprint down the road. 

It’s lunch time, most of the soldiers probably in the mess by now. Maybe you should have run there. Someone would help you. Someone would help you. 

You’ve passed a few on your way down the road, only getting passing glances. If they really cared, they would have followed you, tried to intercept you to ask what was going on. 

None of them stop you as you reach the trailhead, breaking through the brush. Don’t follow the trail. Weave through the trees and double back. Confuse them so they can’t follow. Price’s advice rings loud in your ears as you rush through the forest. Confuse them, and then make for the tower. You can hide there, call Laswell, get help. You’re not sure how much help she can provide from across the ocean, but if nothing else, she’ll at least know. 

If she answers. 

If she’s not behind all of this. 

She might rat you out. 

Maybe going for the tower is a bad idea. Maybe you should double back and head for base again. If you can make it to the gate maybe you can convince one of them to help you, or if nothing else you can force your way through and get off of base. You recognize landmarks well enough you can hike to Hereford, find the police, find anyone that might help you. 

You can’t trust anyone. 

Your chest hurts as you run, tears burning in your eyes, making the trees around you blur. You can’t cry now. You can’t let the ache of betrayal settle in yet. You really can’t trust anyone. John had been wrong. But why now? Why wait this long? 

Something has happened to your pack. 

The whole thing has been organized. 

You trusted her. 

You dart across the trail, a sharp pain biting through your calf before you can reach the other side. You yelp as you fall into the dirt, your leg giving out from under you. You push yourself up to look, a roughly half inch wide hole cutting through your jeans. Blood is starting to seep into the fabric, darkening it around the edges of the hole. 

You’ve been shot. 

“You’re a quick little thing.” A voice says, stepping out from the brush next to the trail. “Though, I suppose with all the running they made you do, you would be.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at the gun pointed right at you. Will it go off again? Will it rip through your chest, giving you a slow painful death out here where no one will find you until it’s too late? Or will it go through your head, giving you a quick death before you even know it’s happened? 

“Why?” You choke out, your heart pounding in fear. You can feel it, the edges of your vision darkening as you begin to panic. You’re going to distress, you’re going to die no matter what happens next. 

“Money.” The gun shifts with the accompanying shrug. “Sure the pay in these positions is decent, but it’s never quite enough. And, you know, I’m all for helping with experiments.” 

The gun lowers, but that does little to ease the panic flooding through you. You turn your upper body, trying to claw through the dirt away from your assailant, trying to escape the shoes getting closer and closer. They’re tennis shoes, practical and easy for running if need be. Your mouth has gone dry as you gasp for breath, your heart thudding in your ears. It’s getting dangerously high, the dark edges in your vision continuing to get bigger and bigger. Your muscles are tensing, ready to tighten painfully, joints locking into place. It’ll be too late to do anything, but then again, it’s too late now to do anything. 

You can’t run. If you try, you’ll get shot again, and maybe this time it will be fatal. 

One of the shoes lifts, stepping down on your leg. You scream as pain ripples all the way up to your hip, stopping your movements. Tears slide down your face, dripping down your nose and onto the dirt. 

A hand reaches out, gripping your chin and forcing you to look straight again. Fingers dig into your jaw, making you whimper with pain. “I always hate when omegas cry.” The hand releases you as their right hand rears back. 

Pain erupts across your cheek, your body being thrown to the side. You fall into the dirt, your ears ringing as the entire left side of your face throbs. You can taste blood, the coppery tang making you want to gag. 

“That was for fucking up the cameras and making me do more work.” 

You’re forced onto your stomach in the dirt, a knee digging into your back painfully. 

“You’re going to go to sleep now.” You can barely make out the words over the ringing in your ears. “When you wake up, you’re going to wish you had never been picked for this initiative in the first place.” 

A stinging pain bites into the skin of your neck, but it’s nothing compared to the throbbing in your cheek and the burning ache in your leg. Tears continue to slide down your cheeks as you lay there, your vision going blurry as the sedative kicks in. There’s no help coming. 

No one even knows you’re out here. 

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[ophelia-jones]

Thorns pt 7

Dwight led Carl to a small white pickup truck and shoved him into the cab. He got behind the drivers seat and started the engine, waiting for Negan and Lacey.

"Looks like you're gonna have to sit on Daddy's lap." Negan told Lacey with one of his shit-eating grins. He used to charm her when he smiled but now? She shivered slightly, it was like a wolf showing her his teeth. She was about to be his dinner.

Lacey obliged because she had no choice in the matter. She kept her eyes forward and her mouth silent as they began to move.

"Carl, do you have a girlfriend, young man?" Negan asked and Carl shot a disgusted look at the man. He shook his head slightly and kept quiet, too.

"Well, let ol' Negan give you a piece of advice. See, the way I see it a relationship between a man and a woman is not a lot different from any other partnership. Each person wants something from the other, and that is exactly what I have with my wives back at Sanctuary. They are beautiful young women and all I want from them is their… company." Negan said, pausing to moan a little in Lacey's ear when the truck hit a rough patch that sent her bouncing up and down on his lap. She continued to ignore him outwardly. 

"They, in turn, want me to protect them, keep them safe, give them a comfortable life. And I do. Easy peasy lemon squeezey, right? Everybody knows the deal and everybody gets what they want." Negan checked to be sure Carl was listening, reaching across him to punch Dwight on the shoulder.

"Now as Dwight here can testify to, the problems start when you confuse a give and take relationship by making it all emotional.  People do stupid things when they are emotional. Feelings cause all sorts of trouble, and you know who always gets their asses kicked when they develop all these 'feelings'?" Negan continued, making air quotes with his fingers when he said feelings.  "The man."

"You're so full of shit." Lacey snapped.

"Oh-ho! There she is! That's my Lacey, right there. I was afraid for a minute something had managed to break that spirit!" He said gleefully, grabbing her shoulder and giving her a happy shake, as if he genuinely was glad to see her.

"See, Carl, when a woman tells you 'I don't need anything from you, I just want to spend time together. You're so handsome, Carl. You're so smart, Carl. I think I'm falling in love with you, Carl! Run." Negan mocked a woman's high pitched voice as he spoke. Lacey turned to face Negan this time, her green eyes meeting his watery brown puppy dog eyes.

"You talk out of your ass so much, if I lit a match right now this truck would explode from the methane." She told him, and he burst out in loud, boisterous laughter, his head thrown back and his eyes twinkling merrily.

"I have to admit, you may be a manipulative little succubus but I do love your way with words." He told her, tweaking her nose between his thumb and forefinger. She jerked her head back and slapped his hand away.

"What do you think I wanted from you, exactly Negan? And why would I run off before I got it?" She demanded. "You think I was just dying to have your baby? That it was worth risking my life for?" 

Negans face grew grim and serious once more, his right hand grabbing her by her long hair and yanking her head painfully backwards. 

"You wanted power. You wanted to control me - tell me how to take care of business. When you realized it wasn't going to happen you went looking for somewhere you could take over." He replied through clenched teeth. "Thinking you had leverage nestled safe in your womb." He let go of her head and she sat up, rubbing her sore scalp. 

"I'm sorry you saw it like that. Did Simon happen to help you draw that conclusion?" She said, her voice still annoyed but slightly less hostile. Dwight shot them a nervous look and Negan frowned at him. Was there something more going on in his empire that he hadn't seen? 

"All that matters is you're back where you belong - and you have a few months to convince me not to decorate the yard with your corpse once that kid is safe in it's fathers arms."  Negan said, turning away from her to face Carl again. "And Carl here is one hell of a babysitter." He smiled at the young man as they drove in to the old factory Negan called his Sanctuary.  It felt more like a prison to Lacey. 

Negan had Dwight take Carl to a room upstairs with his inner circle and ordered him to see the boy was comfortable but well guarded. He led Lacey by the wrist to his own suite of rooms. She had spent more time here than she cared to remember.  Once it had seemed as close to love as she knew, if she was honest with herself. Love and sex and fear and pain had always been mixed up together in her world. 

"Why the hell is it that you have to always do the opposite of what I tell you to do?" Negan started in on her as soon as they were alone. "I was trying to keep you safe!" He declared, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling toward him before surprising her by wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. Lacey was baffled and the look on her face said as much.

"Since when did you decide you wanted to be a father, Negan? I know you make sure your 'wives' don't get knocked up. When I told you I was pregnant…"

"I was shocked. I can admit that. And I didn't want to have a baby with those girls, you're right. They're beautiful but not exactly well endowed in the brains department if you know what I mean. They'd make terrible mothers." He sat down on his sofa, both arms stretched out and his leg resting on one knee. He looked every bit the king of his domain. 

Lacey could only stare at him, he was perhaps the most confusing person she had ever encountered. 

"You think I was planning some kind of coup on your little empire here, but you trust me to have your child?" She sat down and gawked at him with no attempt to mask her disbelief. He chuckled and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Well, see, I happen to be certain you don't have it in you to be cruel. Especially to an innocent." He replied, stroking her cheek with one finger and licking his lips as if she made the wolf in him very hungry. 

There was a knocking on the door just then that startled Lacey and made her jump like a frightened rabbit. 

"Enter!" Negan boomed out, obviously irritated at the interruption. Simon poked his head in the door, his little weasel eyes darting around nervously. 

"You wanted to see me, boss?" 

When his eyes fell on Lacey, seated comfortably on a sofa and very much alive, his jaw went slack. Negan smiled at his right hand man and waved him in. 

"Simon! Yes yes yes. I did ask Dwight to send you my way, come on in." Negan told him jovially. He patted the seat beside himself. "Sit down. Would you like a drink?" 

"Uh…" Simon stammered and blinked, his mind trying to find a way out of the grave he had surely dug himself. "No, thank you." 

"You sure?" Negan pressed, standing and moving to pour two fingers of scotch into a tumbler for himself. "I'd offer you one Lacey, but well.." he gestured at her stomach and shrugged. She kept silent and watched what was unfolding with curiosity. Simon looked over at Lacey and when he saw the gentle curve of her stomach, any blood which remained in his face drained quickly. Negan poured a second drink and handed it to the weasel of a man with his handlebar mustache. Simon's hand trembled slightly as he took it, and he tossed the double shot back in one swallow.

"That's more like it!" Negan exclaimed, patting Simon on the back with enough force to nearly knock him off the couch. "It's a party, after all! One of our own returned to us, safe and sound." 

Lacey didn't want to smile, she didn't mean to smirk in amusement as she started to realize Negan had his suspicions about what had actually happened two months earlier. He had never been a stupid man, even if his penchant for violence might suggest it to some people. Simon was sweating now, she could see it glistening on his high forehead. 

"Now. Tell me again how you knew Lacey had 'run off'." Negan said, sitting down again, close enough that his knee almost touched Simon's.

"Uh. Well, if I remember right…" he swallowed hard, his adams apple bobbing up and down almost comically. "I was on watch that night and uh…" Simon looked back and forth between Lacey and Negan. "Well, hell, boss, what did she say I did, exactly? I'd like to be able to defend myself." He changed tactics from defense to offense. 

"That sounds like a hell of an idea. Let's hear it from the lady herself." Negan said, saluting Lacey with his glass before taking a sip and smacking his lips with an exaggerated 'ah!' of satisfaction. 

"Do you think she's going to tell you the truth? She'll say or do anything to get what she wants." Simon spoke up and Negan held his hand up to silence him.

"Would you prefer I ask Dwight?  Because see, here's the thing. I think you're lying to me. You know I can't tolerate that." Simon shifted uncomfortably, his mouth opening and closing but other than a spitting sputtering sound, nothing came out.

"Why Simon, do I detect the odor of you shittin' your god damned britches?" Negan grinned. "What do you think we should do with dear Simon, Lacey?" 

"You could strip him down to his drawers and toss him out in the middle of the night. Then send a dozen of the others to hunt him down like a dog." She finally found her voice. Negan scowled at her, shooting her a look that asked for confirmation that that was what he had done to her. When he could see it in her eyes and in Simon's guilty expression, Negan snapped. He lunged at the man he had trusted and although Simon was fairly strong, Negans wrath made him almost inhuman. Once he got his hands around Simon's throat the man never stood a chance. 

Lacey watched as Negan squeezed the last breath from Simon, his face turning purple and his eyes bulging, blood vessels popping in them like fireworks. She wanted to be the sort of person who would step up and ask Negan to show mercy,  but she couldn't find it in her heart.  Not for Simon.

When Negan was satisfied that there was no chance the man would ever breathe again, he stood and composed himself, smoothing back his black hair and straightening his shirt. He went to the door and called out to the others.

"Come get this piece of shit out of my sight. Put him on the fence with the others." He ordered.

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

"Did you know?" Rick demanded of Daryl, pacing rapidly back and forth in the living room of the house Rick shared with Michone. 

"I knew she was pregnant." Daryl offered, sitting in a chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"And you never bothered to ask her about the father?" Michone asked, just as angry as Rick that Carl had been kidnapped by that monster. 

"She didn't want to talk about it. Wasn't none of my business." Daryl growled back. 

"None of your…?" Michone threw her hands up in the air in exasperation.  "What DO you know about her, Daryl?"

"I never thought I'd see the day your feelings got in the way of your common sense." Rick snarled at Daryl. "Not you."

"How do we even know she isn't a part of one of his demented tests?" Michone added.

"She ain't. I know her, she wouldn't do that." Daryl objected weakly.

"Oh, you know her so well you didn't even know she was sleeping with that son of a bitch!" Rick exploded. Daryl clamed up and glared at his best friend. He was hurting and afraid. He wanted to run, he wanted to hurt someone. But not Rick, not Michone. He wasn't angry with them, he reminded himself. 

Had she been lying to him? Was it possible she was just as cruel and twisted as Negan? He couldn't believe it. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"We need to go in there and take the Saviors down, just like we planned." He finally spoke up again.

"How do we trust the information she gave us? It could be a trap." Michone said.

"No, he's got us right where he wants us, if he wanted us dead we already would be." Rick replied, still pacing, his hands on his hips.

"We can't just sit here on our thumbs!" Daryl yelled, standing and moving for the door.

"Don't go off half cocked and get Carl killed!" Rick told him, laying a hand on Daryl's arm to stop him. "We'll get in there - we will end this. I promise you that."

"You'd better do it fast." Daryl growled, shaking Rick's hand off and storming down the steps.

"Where are you going?" Rick called after him.

"Hilltop!" Daryl shouted back, not slowing his stride. If Rick wasn't ready to help him, he'd find someone who was.

[amyscascadingtabs]

every right thing will find its right place

jake and mac (and amy), post-balancing. ((a.k.a just me being emotional about dad jake for 1.5k words tbh))

read on ao3

He's never hung up on Charles so quickly before.

Mac wrinkles his little eyebrows when Jake lifts him out of his playpen, but he finds himself in it soon enough, the softest baby giggles sounding through the room when Jake holds him high, high only to bring him back down and smother his round cheeks in kisses. That laugh – he could listen to that laugh forever and it wouldn't be enough.

“You crazy genius kid,” he says in between more kisses to Mac’s forehead, then to where the green shirt has slid up and his little tummy is showing. “You did it, kiddo.”

Mac only gurgles in response, dropping the pacifier to the floor so he can jam his fist into his mouth instead.

“You did it,” Jake whispers again, holding him close as Mac drools all over his shoulder. “You absolute genius. Oh, man, I’m so proud of you.”

There might be a tear or two in his eyes as he stands there hugging his son, but he's way past the point of feeling ashamed over those. Fatherhood has definitely made him sappier.

 It turns out Mac isn't all that interested in mashed-up avocado, and Jake can't blame him. This kid has been fed so many different mashed vegetables in his short life already, and as hard as Jake tries to trick him by first taking the spoon to his own lips and pretending like it's the best thing he's ever tried, Mac only wants a few spoonfuls before he makes it clear by trying to swipe the bowl from the table that he's done (they're still working on table manners). He gets a bottle after his bath instead, which truthfully, Jake doesn't mind, because it's way less messy and also the coziest thing in the world to sit with Mac in his arms as the ten-month-old insists on holding the bottle himself even as he begins to drift off. The pink pajamas with elephants on it is still a little too big for him, the sleeves sliding down over his hands, and Jake wonders how his son can seem both so big and so small at the same time.

 He may not have gotten his arch-nemesis today, but he gets to watch as his son's eyelids get heavier and his grip on the bottle gets looser, and soon his head is resting on Jake's shoulder and Jake presses another kiss to the wispy curls on his forehead when Mac begins to slump against him. The Jake of ten years ago wouldn't have believed it if someone had told him he’d missed out on Franzia and barely even regretted it, but the Jake of today knows better. The Jake of today has fought for this, first for the chance to get to share a life with Amy, then to bring another person into it, and he’d do it again. Now that Mac is here and such an integral part of their lives, it's hard to think about there ever being a time when Jake watched his wife cry over another negative pregnancy test and wondered if they'd ever get to experience this, but he remembers, and he knows that it was never a guarantee. He could have been stuck in witness protection in Florida, could have spent years in prison in South Carolina, could have lost the chance of ever having this more times than he can count, and he still ended up on this couch surrounded by colorful baby toys, snuggling an almost-sleeping baby with Amy’s eyes and tan skin and curls that look so much like his own. Even having just missed out on a ten-year-long dream, it's hard to be anything but grateful. Thirty-year-old Jake just didn't know how different forty-year-old Jake's dreams would be.

 He's still bummed out he missed Franzia, but he’s so proud of Amy, too, and he knows he made the right decision when the empty bottle finally falls out of Mac’s grip and his head lulls to the side, leaning all on Jake like a warm bundle of love. He reaches for his phone to snap a quick picture to show Amy later, and then he lifts his son so he can carry him to bed.

 ~

 Even ten months into fatherhood, Jake still hasn’t gotten used to the early mornings. They’re still a pain in the butt – quite literally, because when the baby monitor begins to make noises a little past five in the morning, that’s where Amy pokes him, sharp, with her nails, to tell him it’s his turn to get up with their son.

“I’m on it, I’m on it,” he grumbles, stalking off toward Mac’s nursery.

 He’s barely awake enough to remember the events of last night, so when he opens the door to Mac in his sleepsack, using the side of the crib to pull himself up on his knees, it’s almost as magical as seeing it for the first time. Mac’s sleep-rosy face lights up in the widest smile when he sees him, grinning so hard the pacifier falls out another time, and then Jake can’t find it in himself to be upset about the stupid early wake-up call anymore.

“Good morning, Macaroon,” he tells his son, and Mac reaches for him with open arms as soon as he takes one step closer. That reach has always melted his heart, because it’s such a testament to all the trust Mac puts in him. Mac hasn’t even said his first word yet – thankfully, the window for that is still a little ways away – but the way he reaches for him with absolute joy in his eyes when he comes to pick him up is Jake’s favorite declaration of love in the entire world. The smell that follows isn’t as great, and Jake thinks he knows now why Mac woke up early, but he supposes it’s true what Amy said; you really can’t have it all.

 Once Mac has a new diaper, Jake takes him back to their bedroom, because at least their bed is a little more comfortable than the living room carpet if you have to be used as a jungle gym before sunrise. Amy’s already fallen back asleep, her still frizzy hair splayed out over the pillow like a star around her head, and Jake takes a moment to stop and admire how pretty she looks when she can’t tell he’s watching her. He’d shown her yesterday just how proud he was, and she’d promised him she’d do a special run of the presentation for just him and Mac, but he thinks he’s almost prouder of them both for making it through this week. Head lice and toilet contacts and creepy babysitters and more; he still wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else.

 The sound of Mac laughing when he sees her makes Amy stir, and Jake crawls back down under the comforter as he lets Mac attack her with his trademark slobbery baby kisses.

“I thought you were gonna let me sleep,” Amy mumbles.

“You said you missed him yesterday,” Jake mumbles in return. “He’s all yours now.”

“Mm.” Amy yawns. “Screw you.”

“You already did, babe, that’s how he got here in the first place.”

 Amy snorts, and Jake has a feeling he’d probably get a curse or two right about now if there wasn’t a baby in the room, but before she can say anything, he hears Mac laugh and Amy gasp.

“Jake! Look! He’s doing it!”

Jake opens his eyes again just in time to see Mac pulling himself up using their bed frame. His legs are far wobblier on the mattress than on the floor of the playpen, and he looks a little bit in shock that it’s still working, but Jake can see Amy tearing up as she watches their son perform his latest trick for the both of them. Mac had ended up refusing yesterday, seemingly preferring the element of surprise, but now he’s standing proud with support in front of them both. It looks like he wonders what all the fuss is about when Amy’s the one to pull him into her arms this time, showering him with praise and kisses and some comment about Simone Biles that Jake doesn’t quite hear, but he adjusts soon enough, absolutely glowing from Amy’s attention as she kisses that delicious little dimple in his neck.

 Jake looks at the two people he loves most in the whole world, the only two people he’d ever want to hang out with at five a.m. on a Saturday morning, and thinks of his missed arrest yesterday and the way Jake of ten years ago would probably have spent the entire day in bed sulking if he’d missed a chance like this. Then he leans over to join in on the kissing party.

Yeah. Thirty-year-old Jake just didn't know how different forty-year-old Jake's dreams would be.

 ~

[ambertea]

fatherhood

Tentoo prepares himself for the birth of his child by trying to become the perfect dad.

It was strange, being a human.

It wasn't just that he had to watch his sugar intake now, or that his hair was receding at a worrying pace. It wasn't even the extraordinary amounts of drinking and eating he had to do, the peculiarity of human existence that forced him to constantly shovel things in his mouth.

(Read on AO3)

It was a culture shock, more than anything else. He had lived among humans for years, shared hundreds of years of his life living with their habits. But it was different, somehow. It was as though he was living abroad, rather than simply taking a holiday, and he often found himself struggling to untangle their bizarre social norms.

“Are you listening to me?”

He looked up, his eyes darting around the room. He had been engrossed in the newspaper, ticking off inaccuracies or improbabilities, and drawing tiny TARDISes in each white square of the crossword puzzle.

“Yes.”

Rose looked doubtful. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

“So, what do you think?”

He hurriedly scanned the room, looking for something to have an opinion on. The walls were the same colour. The curtains, too. Even the windows looked just the same as yesterday.

“Good.” He nodded forcefully. “Good. Very good.”

“Great.” She grinned, and he relaxed.

She threw herself on the sofa next to him and stroked his shoulder.

“So, when should we start trying?”

He kissed her forehead, trying to gain some precious thinking seconds.

“Uh. Tomorrow?”

She held her head in his lap, gazing up at him with some strange human emotion.

“I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

Oh.

He wanted to have a child. He really did. He loved kids, enjoyed their brutal honesty and vivid imaginations. He had had children before, of course he had, and although he didn't spend an awful lot of time thinking about it, he still thought of himself as a Dad.

The responsibility of being the father of Rose’s child, though, was something else.

Everything about her was perfect. She had a beautiful face and an equally magnificent soul. Hell, she had literally been a Goddess at one point. What if his silly genes were more dominant than hers, and rather than the wonderful baby that she deserved, she ended up with a child just like him?

The only solution, really, was to just become the perfect dad. So far, Netflix had told him it included a lot of DIY, and sometimes crossing his arms.  He could do that. His last body had been a wonderful mechanic, and he was sure he’d folded his arms at some point in 900 years.

The drill looked a bit scary. He would have felt better using his sonic screwdriver, but it wouldn’t have looked nearly as cool. Rose was watching him, looking concerned.

“Do you have to hold it in your mouth?”

He tried to talk, and spat the drill out, exasperated.

“Yes! I need to be holding your hand too. The baby needs to feel how good of a dad I am.”

She squeezed his arm and leant into his body.

“I’m sure they’ll know either way.”

He doubted it. Probably, they would be watching perfect Simon next door, with his massive toolbox and fancy shed, wishing that their dad could be equally handy.

“What are you drilling, then?” She asked, and he looked around the garden in panic.

He hadn't thought about that bit yet. He'd been flabbergasted by the sheer amount of attachments, and then annoyed over the stupid power chord that needed at least 3 extension leads to go anywhere useful. He'd had a vague image of himself drilling a bit of wood, and Rose clapping at his brilliance. But there wasn't any wood out here, the garden empty but for a few gnomes.

One looked up at him judgmentally, and he made a mental note to kick it when Rose wasn’t around.

“Uh – I thought I would practise, for now.”

“What, like just…turn it on?”

“Yep,” he said frantically. “A test run. See how, um, spinny it is.”

Rose dropped his hand, and he turned to her, offended. She was clutching her stomach, her eyes lit with – was that fear? Happiness?

“Rose? Are you okay?”

She nodded slowly, a small, gentle smile growing. Retaking his hand, she pressed it against her stomach, and he felt his single heart jump when he felt it.

“They’re kicking,” he whispered, dropping to his knees and pressing his ear against her stomach. The baby kicked him straight in the head, and he stared in wonder.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

Okay, so maybe the drilling thing had failed. It was no wonder, really, he was a highly intelligent part-time lord, who couldn’t be wasting his time standing around all day just pointing hand tools at walls. His baby was unlikely to be properly impressed with that, anyway, being of superior intellect themselves.

Perhaps he needed to talk to an expert. An actual parent, one that had managed to raise an impressive child.

He thought about Jackie for a second and instantly squashed the thought.

Pete wasn’t laughing at him, exactly, but he certainly had a strange little glint in his eye that the Doctor didn’t appreciate.

“You want me to teach you how to…parent?”

The Doctor groaned. This had been a stupid idea. He turned to go, but Pete quickly grabbed his shoulder.

“Sorry. I was a mess when Jacks was pregnant, so I guess this is no different.”

“It is different!” The Doctor said, offended. “It’s Rose.”

“So just be there for her. Help her with things. I’m sure the baby would…respect that.”

The Doctor stared, wide-eyed. Pete was right. The baby was going to love Rose, just like everyone else who met her, and if he could be seen helping her…

“Thanks, Pete, bye.” He yelled, legging it out of the room.

“What are you doing?”

He frowned, offended, and the wooden spoon rolled off his tongue and onto the floor. Rose eyed it, eyebrow raised.

“How are you doing today, my darling?”

“When did you start calling me that?”

“I can call you something else!” He offered desperately. “Sweetie? Sugar? Love? Babe?”

“Do not call me babe.”

“Honeybunny?”

She was looking at him as if she was slightly concerned for his health.

“I’m making dinner.” He said quickly, gesturing to the wok. She walked over, suddenly interested, and peered down with a look that he couldn't decipher.

“Malteasers?” She asked faintly. He nodded.

“And bananas. And tea, too, for the sauce. All your favourites!”

She kept her face down, shoulders shaking. Probably, he thought, stunned in the face of his great generosity.

“Thank you, Doctor.” She finally choked out between gasps, patting him fondly on the shoulder. He puffed out his chest and went to go sort out the crockery.

“I think we should start buying things.” Rose said one day. Her legs were draped over his lap, his hands massaging her feet.

He looked at her in shock. He hadn’t even thought about all the things the baby would need, being more focused on Rose and her ever-changing moods. They were going to need so much stuff, and it was all going to have to be perfect, as well, lest the baby grew unhappy with its drab surroundings.

He knocked her feet off his lap and set off into a run.

“Why,” Rose asked, her hands on her hips, her stomach peeking out under her bottom, “do we need five cribs?”

“The baby needs options!” He insisted, gesturing at the cradles circling the room. They were all in different shades of white, with tiny little mobiles hovering over them. He had made the mobiles himself, fashioning tiny little Earth, Gallifrey and TARDIS charms to hang over the crib.

He frowned, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Maybe he should have gotten some different colours—he knew humans' fixation on pinks and blues for their offspring. Perhaps he should have picked up a few more.

“You don't think the baby will like them?” He asked, feeling a bit crushed.

Rose smiled, and hugged him, her round bump pushing into his belly.

“They’ll love them.”

Rose was in labour, and he was having a heart attack.

He didn’t like only having one heart on a good day. As a Time Lord, he’d loved Rose, but he’d also loved space, and the TARDIS, and pretty much any fascinating person he met. Now having only one, it felt like his whole body was focused on just her – everything else seemed so less important, less crucial for his day-to-day survival.

What if one heart wasn't enough? What if he couldn’t love their baby properly? What if the child grew to be unloved and unloving, unable to feel the wonderfully wide spectrum of human emotion, all because he had one, stupid heart and it was already used up.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Doctor,” Rose moaned, and he hurried over to clutch at her hand.

Rose was holding her baby.

No—his baby. No, theirs.

She looked up at him, her face pink and drenched in sweat, a soft, beautiful smile stretched across her face.

“Do you want to hold her?” She whispered, rocking the pile of blankets gently, and he nodded, dumbstruck.

Carefully, the baby--his baby!-- was settled into his arms, and he gazed at her, tears trickling down his face.

“Hello,” he whispered.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. Her tiny, pudgy little arm stretched out to him, reaching out towards his face, and his singular heart stretched and grew.

"She's perfect." He told Rose, who nodded, looking at him with yet another expression he couldn't untangle.

He looked back down at his daughter and ran his finger over her cheek, marvelling over how soft, how precious she was.

"I'm going to look after you," he choked out. "I'm going to be the best dad on Earth. You'll see."

The baby looked up at him, eyes filled with trust, and he thought that maybe, if he tried really, really, hard, he might just be able to do it.

[bleulone]

i love your analysis so much! i have a question as well, like, how do you envision polin's sex scenes ? thanks for your answer (:

    Hey! Thank you very much :)) I have no idea if they are that even good but I’m happy you like them. It’s just my brain tending to produce some iNsIGhiTfUL analyses though they usually end up drowned under a huge wave of stupidity and horrid spelling/grammatical mistakes XD. So, about Penelope and Colin’ sex scenes, I guess we’re getting spicy in this house 🌶. I mean, I don’t blame you. Who’s not hot for Polin ?! The steamy Polin hours have already begun and they’re legit challenging my patience. (Be still my Polin heart, be still).

   Okay, without further ado, let’s talk about sex baby, shall we ? It’s a pretty long answer/meta so bear with me.

    I don’t know if you’ve read Romancing Mister Bridgerton, but a quick reminder (for those who haven’t... yet), there are a bunch of iconic steamy scenes that I’m dying to watch on screen. First we have the famous “thank you” scene where Penelope, now a 28 year-old spinster, asks Colin to kiss her because she doesn’t want to die without having been kissed... then ends up thanking him— which happens to be humiliating for our 33 year-old boy because he thinks that she thinks he did it out of pity while he absolutely did not. The man definitely felt butterflies in his stomach... and in other places as well lol. We also have the ICONIC carriage scene where Colin gives Pen’s generous bosoms™ the attention they deserve. This is followed by his proposal. Later on, after the announcement of their engagement, there’s a pretty hot make-out scene on Lady Violet’s sofa. Finally, we have their first time in Colin’s bedroom, after sneaking out of their own engagement party... which leads Colin to push the wedding date forward. At this point, I just love their horniness, especially Colin’s who’s just so freaking amazed by Penelope for more than 300 pages straight (duh! who isn’t ???).

    When you say envision, I suppose you mainly refer to the way those scenes will be filmed right ? I’m afraid I don’t have an advanced knowledge in film-making but let me start by telling you what elements need to be depicted. I would love Shonda and Chris to capture the real essence of our boos’ feelings : the yearning, the love, the respect and the guilt (specifically on Colin’s side) in their eyes. The more we move forward throughout the seasons, the more we see different layers of the perceptions of they have of each other, going from a childish idealization/immature ignorance to a sudden realization. A mature one. Penelope goes beyond the facade of the charming devil-may-care guy to meet the seriousness and temper of her significant other. Meanwhile Colin discovers how confident, powerful and attractive this woman is and always has been. It echoes what I’ve written about the importance of the gaze in Polin’s love story in this meta. By the time season 4 hits, man... their heart eyes and eye-fucking will jump OUT XD, all fibers of their beings, burning with need. The fact that this evolution took literally years is very emotionally painful, which is why I find it important to keep the slowness aspect of their relationship before and during their love making. I’m really looking forward a slow build-up toward their intimacy. It would differ from Daphne and Simon who merely shared one hell of a kiss in Lady Trowbridge’s garden then shared their sexy times after they married or Anthony and Siena’s rough sex... In fact, there’s a certain (sweet) ardent tenderness in Polin I like due to the fact that they’re slowly (re)discovering each other, as adults. Since they were both introduced in season 1, the audience will have all the time in the world to notice numerous evidences of the many natures of love they have for one another : from an affectionate and friendly love to a more carnal and enduring one.

    Okay so, in terms of filming, with Netflix’s Bridgerton being a show which promotes the female gaze, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise watching those sex scenes being shot from Penelope’s perspective, like it was the case with Daphne in the first installment of the series. Most of the time, sex scenes in Historical Romance are not gratuitous. Their presence serve an important purpose in a hero/heroine’s journey. In Penelope’s case, they’re here to help her learn to embrace and love herself. In other words, sexuality is synonym of freedom. I don’t know if they’ll show a lot of skin, but I won’t be complaining considering the fact that we’ll have the chance to get a chief kiss treat on screen : a plus size woman in a major successful Netflix period drama getting a love story as romantic and steamy as other more “fit” female characters. No, your weight doesn’t prevent you from being desirable at all. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t watched a plus-size female character portrayed as an attractive protagonist in a period drama (please if you have, let me know, I can be wrong). Having a beautiful half bare curvy body like Nicola’s being equally filmed like numerous slim actresses will be so inspiring and powerful to watch, especially for (young) women who struggle, like Penelope, to love their body shape which, to them, doesn’t “fit” the “beauty standards”. By showing her female gaze and portraying her as seductive, Pen’s “supposed” imperfections transform themselves into mighty assets, loved and worshipped by our dashing Mister Bridgerton. That’s body positivity at its finest darling ;).

    It will be deliciously erotic watching the undressing process being exquisitely slow, garment by garment, while their gaze are all heated and hungry. Their sex/make-out scenes should be tender and passionate, sweet and raw. The lightning, colored by a dark blood orange yellow or a blue depending the locations^^. Moreover, the depiction of the exploration of Penelope’s desire can translate itself thanks to multiple close ups. For instance, I can imagine a few ones on Pen’s fingers gently roaming over the smooth skin of Colin’s firm chest and back/touching his hair right after he removed his shirt. And a disheveled Colin letting his hands and lips making a journey of their own, mapping, conquering the alluring unknown territory that is her gorgeous voluptuous body... kissing her on the places he knows oh too well will give her pleasure (is this me wanting him to go down on her?— um yeah I sure hope it IS! If he doesn’t, trust me imma riot... AGAIN). Even a close up on her face while Colin is performing his addictively pleasing torment will be a marvelous proof of the female gaze. By the way, why not even adding a post-coital scene after their first time ? I can picture Penelope waking up first and contemplate her handsome soon-to-be husband. She’d bring her hand to his face and let it travel all around his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, his neck and let it rest on his heart— making sure that what she’s just experience was real... obviously, Colin will wake up in the process and he’ll take this as his cue to go for another round of sexy times under the sheets.

   Showing Pen reaction is essential according to me because she was stuck with the idea that she would never experience the luxury of being loved, giving pleasure nor receiving it... she ended up being happily wrong. Throughout her multiple intimate encounters with Colin, I want her to progressively realizes that she can be an active partner. In the carriage, she knew she had an effect on him, but it’s not until their first time that she actually realizes it. Hence the reason why I WANT the mirror’s introduction in one of their sex scenes. Here’s as a little reminder an excerpt from chapter 18 :

“I want to see you sitting up," he groaned, "so I can see them full and lovely and large [about Pen’s breasts]. And then I want to crawl behind you and cup you." His lips found her ear and his voice dropped to a whisper. "And I want to do it in front of a mirror."

“Now?” she squeaked.

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. "Later," he said, and then repeated it in a rather resolute tone. "Later.”

   It would be such a shame if the show doesn’t use the incredible potential of this object (/kink). I mean, the symbolism is pretty clear. Penelope has always fled her “ugly” reflection but it seems like Colin wants to show the real her, the beauty that holds every single inch her alabaster skin and the effects they have on him. Thus, I would love to watch a scene where Colin just praises the alluring goddess and siren that is Penelope Featherington. Just imagine! Just IMAGINE the power of this scene : a shirtless Colin sitting behind her on a bed, meeting her gaze in the mirror, his lips touching her right ear, biting and licking the lobe sometimes, whispering all kinda of dirty yet poetic words to her while letting his hands caress her thighs, her hips, her arms, her lovely bosoms™... oof. At the same time, a wonderful and harmonic instrumental music will play in the background and match the melodic partition of shudders, breathes and moans let out by our lovers. I can imagine Luke inspiring himself from his performance in the 2019 short film, Youth In Bed. The way he conveyed the awe and the yearning on his face, in his eyes with his mouth slightly open when he knelt before his partner Shun Yin was just captivating and— and so Colin! I cannot help but bring myself to picture Ethan, the character he played in YIB, in a Polin steamy scene. I cannot unsee this anymore jsksk. I mean, all this gifset radiates this book4chapter18!Colin, you cannot tell me otherwise!

    Also, I would love Shonda and Chris to keep Pen and Colin’s cute/emotional pillow talk. One thing I really love in JQ’s books is the concern she gives to her male protagonists about potentially hurting their partner during the act of penetration. Colin is a rake, and what his experience with women taught him is that he needs to be very gentle with the love of his life. It was so adorable seeing him not wanting to harm her and asking her to tell him if he does anything she doesn’t like 🥺. Plus, before actually doing it, Colin and Penelope shared a few kisses and just laid down side by side, confessing their love. Though our boy kept feeling guilty about not returning her love after all these years. He desires nothing but to make up for the lost time and show his love and desire during this special intimate moment. I hope they’ll keep all of chapter 18’s dialogue. It’s just so telling of our boos’ feelings, you see.

    All in all, I can’t wait to watch those Polin steamy scenes. As much as I may sound crazy, I want them after two other seasons of pure pining and yearning in order to have a very good payoff. I’m not an expert on depicting intimacy on screen, but I loved so far what Lizzy Talbot, the intimacy coordinator who worked on the show, have done in season 1. Sex scenes in Bridgerton seem very real and dive you in the intimacy of the moment, leaving you all flustered and hot. So probs to her! I have faith in her work and have no doubts about what her and the directors will serve us in future seasons. Though, in the end, I think it’s mostly up to the actors, Nicola and Luke, to see if they’re comfortable filming sex scenes.

    If you guys have any suggestions or wishes for those steamy polin scenes, please do share them :) by commenting on this post or by sending me asks! I’d love reading your thoughts/take on this very important matter ;)) 

[coffeeb013]

Aura Apologies(Mini-fanfic)

Dual Destinies spoilers

That's just something I thought about, I'm not going to be very detailed nor write like Shakespeare here, I just want to share my heascanon.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

— Athena, I need you to come with me to the detention center — Said Simon.

— WHAT?! — Athena jumped from the couch she was sitting on surprise — Why didn't you told me earlier that I'm going to be your assistant?

— We're not defending anyone.

— So...? — Athena sat again and made a confused expression.

— We're going to see Aura Blackquill.

— What the f- Why? I mean, you always go alone, right? Have you done something wrong? Ohhhhh I want to see she trying to kill from that glass!

— Shut the fuck up and let's go, I'm quite busy with another things.

That was actually new, Simon never requested Athena to go with him to see Aura, he didn't even warn her before. Athena was thinking what it might be: "A family fight? Is Aura mad at me?". Athena couldn't stop tapping the leg, she was about to explode of anxious while they go to the detention center.

When they arrived, Athena didn't knew what to do, Simon sit at the only chair there so Athena stand at the wall...

— Why did you sit? Have you forgotten why I requested you to come here? Stupid. — Said Aura.

— Who are you calling stupid? The best way you could save me was putting you on a cell? — Simon said while show indifference.

— You're welcome. — Aura gave an angry glare at Simon.

"Sister and brother, didn't expected more" Athena thought and smiled.

— I'm sorry to interrupt your super important family discussion but I just want to know if I'll be useful or you're going to pretend that I'm a decoration — Athena said.

— Oh hello, Athena — Aura changed her angry expression to a worried one — Actually, I'm going to talk... With you.

— Ah... That's was... I mean.

— New messenge from Boss. — Widget said.

— Oh look, I think it's a case, I gotta go haha. — Athena opened the door.

— That's a false notification. — Aura said with indifference.

— HOW?! — Athena wondered how she knew it was false, Aura never seemed widget's others functions.

— This sound, it was your thought... When a new message come, your widget make a sound.

— How do you know?

— Athena — Aura sighed — I know it's hard to even look at my face but I need to apologize to you.

So that's why Athena was there... Simon gave the chair to Athena, now, she's standing in front of the person who accused her of killing her own mother, the person who wouldn't bother to let her being executed, now, she's going to have a serious talk with the person that she loved once.

— I'm so sorry, Athena — Aura avoid eye contact — I don't expect you to accept my apologies but at least, can you hear me?

Athena remain in silent.

— I can't even imagine how it must feel to lost your mother and almost lost your best friend... But you also lost your trust on me. — Aura's heart started to have a lot of discord, Athena could hear it — Athena, when you was a little and fragile baby, I hold you in my arms, that was the first time I felt such a joy, I promised to myself that won't let anyone hurt you..

— You was like a mother to me — Athena said while looking dawn.

— And you was like my daughter — Aura's trying hard to hold her tears — And your mother, I wish she could be more than my partner.

And Athena said nothing.

— But how could I be your mother when I abandon you? — Aura drop a tear but still didn't cry — I was so idiot, Athena... I couldn't be your mother when I believed you killed your mother! I'm so sorry, Athena! — Aura slammed the table — I was so angry and worried with me and the death of your mother that I could blame the first person I saw, I left you alone... HOW COULD I DO THAT?!

— Aura... — Athena whispered.

Aura's emotions was so loud, the only thing Athena could do is let her talk and hear.

— But deep inside, I knew you didn't that... I knew you loved your mother no matter what, even with her experiments and she was a little too busy to see you, you always loved her... Yet, I preferred to believe that a kid killed her own mother, a kid that I consider as mine too!

So, they keep in silent, Athena was processing all what she have heard... Even though she still like Aura, she didn't feel like she "knew her", THAT Aura was the Mother Aura, the Aura before the "not guilty" verdict wasn't the real Aura.

— I'm sorry, Athena... You don't have to forgive me, but I hope now I can help in any way...

— Of course I forgive you — Athena looked at Aura with tears all over her face.

— Athena...

— Do you remember when I fell and scraped my knee? You take me to eat ice cream. When you get out of there, I want you to do again, mama.

And then, Aura was crying all the tears she hold until now, even those from 7 years ego, she stand up and put her hand on the glass, Athena did the same, both of them was crying tears of happiness... Even though that glass was in front of them, Athena could feel like she's being hugged by Aura, the warm feeling only a true mother could give to her daughter.

Meanwhile, Simon was just standing there, watching this beautiful drama, even him dropped a tear.

— Oh and Simon, thank you for helping, if it wasn't you, I would never talk to Athena again.

— Your local best psychologist! — Said Athena — Ohhhhh my goooood, he's crying!

— I'm not crying.

— Don't even try, Athena, he's too emo to show any emotion — Aura said laughing.

— Ohhhh he's laughing too — Athena pointed.

— SILENCE!

And finally, after 7 long years, the family is back. That day on, Aura didn't feel that pain on her heart she felt and Athena visited Aura almost everyday.

A few months later

— Ohhhh Aura's finally getting out of that hell! — Athena said, she never felt such excitement — I have to admit, I've always see you as my uncle, Simon.

— I've noticed that uncle and niece aura coming from you two — Pearl said.

— Thanks again, Pearl, for coming to give a surprise to Aura... And me.

— I wish I could see your reaction when I summon Ms. Cykes.

— Ohhh yeah, Simon, please, record that moment, I don't want to forget it never! — Athena gave her cellphone to Simon.

After a few minutes, they see Aura in front of the prison gate, Athena ran in Aura's direction but she fell and scraped her knee, but it didn't stop her, Aura looked surprised when she seemed Athena standing up and running again to her.

— Auraaaa, I'm sooooo happy you're here! — Athena hugged Aura.

— Looks like you didnt changed too much — Aura smiled and hugged Athena too.

— Aura... — Simon said with a little smile on his face.

— Stupid, it's better that you didn't show her those animes with magical girls — Aura said ironically — Come here, bro! — Aura hugged Simon.

— Athena, Aura, Simon, it's good I could see you again.

— That voice... It's familiar — Aura said.

And then, Metis Cykes summoned by Pearl appeared.

— Mother!!!

— Metis?!?

— Mama, I missed you so much — Athena hugged Metis.

— Athena, you grew so much! Look at my baby! — Metis looked down to up on Athena — You're so beautiful, Athena.

— Mama, I'm a lawyer now and I'm studying analytical psychology!

— Ohhh I'm so proud of you! I knew you were so smart that you could be anything at such young age.

— Thanks, mama! — Athena smiled.

— I'm very sorry for using you at some experiments of mine, Athena, but...

— That's okay, mama, we talk about that later — Athena interrupts Metis — Now, I think you need to have a conversation with mama Aura.

— Mama Aura...? — Metis looked to Aura.

— Metis, I...

— I knew it, Aura — Metis interrupts Aura, and Aura look surprised at her — I wish I said my feeling to you before that incident...

— Me too, Metis.

— I was too busy with my robots and all that I never thought of the right time to tell that I love you.

— And I was too afraid of losing you.

Metis grabbed Aura hands.

— And now, look at me, I'm dead and I can't live a happy life with my daughter and the woman I love.

— What I have experienced with you was enough to me, Metis — Aura started sobbing — We have to move on, right?

— Don't cry, Aura.

It wasn't the most romantic place to have a kiss, but this happened, actually, neither Aura nor Metis was bothered by the local, the only thing they wanted was first and last kiss... Meanwhile, Simon covered Athena's eyes with his hands:

— Simon, I'm not 6 anymore!

— It's my instinct.

— I think this it — Metis said while crying.

— No, mama, see? — Athena points to her knee, which has a scratch.

— Oh my goodness, Athena, how did you get this? — Metis get close to Athena's knee to see if it's bad — Are you alright?

— Yes but I might need an ice cream.

— My Athena, you haven't changed a bit! — Metis said.

Then, they got an ice cream and enjoyed the last minutes they had with Metis.

— So, it was fun? — Pearl asked to Athena after Metis spirit get out.

— Of course! You were so helpful, pearl, thank you so much!

— I must thanks too, Pearl, if you didn't summon Metis, I didn't never said how felt to her — Aura said.

— I'm so glad about that! If you want to me to channel your mother again, I will be there.

And that's it, Aura and Athena had their happy end... The mornings were different, the nights were calmer, their lifes became more happy, that was it, that was one of the thing they needed to have their life back to normal.

END.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Note: Sorry for my bad english, the fanfic is very vague, I might edit later to fix any mistake I made or put more details... But hope it made you, at least, almost cry.

[creaturefeaturecommando]

Songs From My Playlist That I Think Fit Kaidan Alenko and Alissan Shepard, ME1-ME2

ME1:

Tadow - FKJ Masego: "I saw her and she hit me like 'tadow', saw that thing so beautiful 'tadow', she just hit my heart oh 'tadow', full force and she got me like 'tadow'."

Popular St- Glass Animals: "I am a true romantic, free falling, love addict."

Strawberry Letter 23- Shuggie Otis: "If you arrive and don't see me, I'm going to be with my baby, I am free, flying in her arms, over the sea."

Sunday Kind of Love- Etta James: "And my arms need someone, Someone to enfold, To keep me warm when Mondays and Tuesdays grow cold, Love for all my life to have and to hold, Oh and I want a Sunday kind of love."

Suga Suga - Baby Bash: "You got me lifted, shifted, higher than the ceiling and ooo-wee it's the ultimate feeling, you got me lifted, feeling so gifted, Suga, how'd you get so fly ?"

Earned It- The Weeknd: "You make it look like it's magic, 'Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you, I'm never confused, Hey, hey, I'm so used to being used, So I love when you call unexpected, 'Cause I hate when the moment's expected, So I'ma care for you, you, you."

Journal of Ardency- Class Actress: "Who's next in your journal of ardency ? Private, yes but I think it's me, so give me a sign, give me a warning, please don't lie or take your time."

Aisle 10- JSRF- "I see you at my job, you're carrying yourself so well, I made myself a promise not to get emotional, as I remain stable, I take another glance at you, If we were at the dico woah woah, Then I would have to dance with you, this isn't cool

And in my lonly eyes, I see myself in elegant strives, in a dark tuxedo, here goes nothing to her, Hello Allison, I wanna hold your hand, I haven't been the same man since I saw you coming in, let's have a toast to the girl in aisle 10."

Addicted to You- Avicii: "You came into my crazy world like a cool and cleansing wave, before I, I even know what hit me baby, you were flowing through my veins."

Powerful- Major Lazer: "Ooh lord of mercy I'm begging you please, I'm feeling drained, I need love, you charge me up like electricity, jumpstart my heart with your love."

ME2:

Time Moves Slow- BADBADNOTGOOD: "What was I to do ? I just couldn't help myself from falling in love with you, and what could I say ? Oh if I had another chance to make you stay, cause when you ran away, I knew just what you were thinking that day, You just didn't love me like you do, like I love you."

50 Ways To Leave Your Lover - Paul Simon: "She said "It grieves me to see you in such pain, I wish there was something I could do to make you smile again."."

Don't Know Why- Norah Jones: "My heart is drenched in wine but you'll be on my mind forever "

Steal My Love - Shiloh Dynasty: "Steal my love, no I don't want it that bad."

Breezeblocks - alt-J: "My love, my love, love, love, But please don't go, I love you so, my lovely, Please don't go, please don't go, I love you so, I love you so, Please don't go, please don't go, I love you so, I love you so, Please break my heart, hey."

Strange- Celeste: "If I could, I'd pull your strings for one more dance, But I can't, Say isn't it strange ? Isn't it strange? You look at me, I look at you, With nothing to say, Isn't it strange how people can change, from strangers to friends, friends into lovers, and strangers again?"

Too Much- Sampha: "I...I feel like you're by my side, laying upside down, clouds upon clouds and you're on my mind."

Not About Love- Fiona Apple: "This is not about love, cause I am not in love, in fact I can't stop falling out, I miss that stupid ache."

That's All- Genesis: "I could leave but I won't go, But it'd be easier I know, I can't feel a thing from my head down to my toes, But why does it always seem to be me looking at you and you looking at me ? It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all.

Truth is I love you, more than I wanted to, there's no point in trying to pretend, there's been no one who makes me feel like you do, say we'll be together till the end."

Do Me A Favour- Arctic Monkeys: "Well she walked away while her shoes were untied and the eyes were all red, you could see that we'd cried and I watched and I waited till she was inside, forcing a smile and waving goodbye."

[hotdadlicense]

blorbo ask!!! black sails and twd. (aaand 9-1-1).

blorbo: favorite character, character I think about the most

scrunkly: my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped

scrimblo bimblo: underrated/underappreciated fave

glup shitto: obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week

poor little meow meow: “problematic”/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave

horse plinko: character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason

eeby deeby: character I would send to superhell

black sails!

blorbo: silver and anne ❤️

scrunkly: flint and jack and i simply cannot elaborate

scrimblo bimblo: madi and max and i don't know if they're actually under-rated but i do think they're under-appreciated?? hmm maybe idelle!!!

glup shitto: joji and muldoon and ben okay. i wanted so much more of them 🥺

poor little meow meow: randall also. maybe. vane? s2 finale and s3 vane from memory?? basically when vane and flint teamed up i was like okay im Listening. and his last ep i did get emo a bit :/

horse plinko: woodes rogers!! venom voice fuck this guy

eeby deeby: peter ashe also ned low

the walking dead!

blorbo: daryl okay love of my stupid little life daryl dumbass dixon

scrunkly: tara ALSO aaron 🥺🥺 also JERRY!!!!!!!

scrimblo bimblo: kelly. kelly i would DIE for you. also alden. love u bro

glup shitto: okay don't look at me but when they killed kyle gallners character off in the same episode they introduced him i was raging. zach loml come BACK u dead bitch. anyway he's alive in literally every single walking dead hc i've ever had.

poor little meow meow: lydia?? is she unpopular or controversial? lydia. also i've seen some magna hate around?? and i love her?? so magna.

horse plinko: gregory, spencer, and simon all annoyed me so lets go w them

eeby deeby: pope cos fuck that guy i literally turned to my sister and was like 'yo why don't they literally just fucking kill him already' then they DID and i was like oh thank FUCK. also the governor and beta!!! literally all of them can fuck off and i'm so glad they did

911!

blorbo: buck 🥺

scrunkly: eddie ESPECIALLY season five eddie. mans FULL bitch mode.

scrimblo bimblo: hen 🥺🥺🥺

glup shitto: ravi and albert!!! literally they're basically all me and z text about.

poor little meow meow: maddie and chim and i can't believe thats a problematic opinion but literally 911 fans are wack so. also taylor. like i get that u all hate her now and it's fun for y'all etc etc but i fukcing LIKE her so fuck off

horse plinko: ALL of their dads and MOST of their mums. there is a REASON bobby's their dad now.

eeby deeby: the firetruck the crushed bucks leg the tsunami that crushed bucks hopes and dreams the blood embolism that threatened to take bucks firefighting future aka his Life from him the ENTIRETY of bucks emotional trauma that kicked him repeatedly while he was already fucking down what the fuck