#the original omega strikes again

[bloodydeanwinchester]

ah yes of course. another man obsessed with jensen. what a surprise.

[lanalace]

Encompassed [Yandere Gojo Satoru x Fem Reader]

Word count: 5k

Summary: You were never supposed to be an omega and so you decided not to be. As a result, you gained friend, freedom and a life of your own. Everything was going your way until you came face to face with the world's strongest sorcerer.

Chapter 1 - Encounter

“Oi! Y/n-chan!” Itadori yelled, waving to you from across the training grounds.

Y/n sat at the top of the cold stone staircase overlooking the field, looking up from the book in her hands, she spotted Yuji at the opposite end of the field with Nobara and Megumi. Grinning widely, you closed the book and stood up, raised an arm and waved back with the same amount of energy as Yuji.

“Itadori! Kugisaki! Fushiguro!” Y/n yelled.

You could see them smiling at you as they drew nearer. These were your new teammates. You have been working with them for about one month now and you all have gotten pretty close. ‘Well, Fushiguro was definitely a work in progress. Though, to be fair, I don’t think that anyone is actually close to him.’ You thought grimly to yourself as you walked down to greet them. Yuji was the first to greet you with both hands up. You smiled and jumped up to smack both of his hands with your own. It was the way you guys always greeted each other, always with a double hi-five. 

It was really funny how you guys started this routine, actually. It actually started because of a comment he made about how short you were in comparison to the other members of your team. You bristled at that claim and rebuttal that you were in fact plenty tall for your age.  You are 17 years old and still have a bit more time to grow. Itadori being Itadori raised his hand all the way up high as proof of your shortness, daring you to touch it if you were really as tall as you calmed. Of course you couldn’t reach so he decided to make it easier for you, first bringing his hand down to half of its original height next to his head as he goaded you to try hitting him again. But you were pouting at the failed first attempt so he brought another hand up to mirror his other and teased you more, telling you that it would be easier since you had two targets. Still pouting, you couldn’t resist and jump a bit to smack both of them. It made Itadori grin and he earnestly complemented you, lightening your sour mood at the time and you smiled at him.   

“Y/n-chan! Spar with me this time.” He begged with starry eyes.

“Sure.” You smiled at him gently, nodding in confirmation. You could hear Nobara in the background yelling at Itadori because she wanted to be your training partner for the day.

“Woo! Better luck next time, Kugisaki!” Itadori turned and snickered at her before facing you and getting into a fighting stance.

You giggled and shook your head at the pair. They were so silly and always behaved just like siblings. Focusing on the boy in front of you, you tossed your book aside and got into an offensive position.Without hesitation you struck your teammate first. He was caught off guard but managed to just barely block your right hook.

“Don’t look so shocked! You’re the one who wanted to spar but you’re not even paying attention.”  You followed up with a combo move that he easily blocked as well.

Yuji looked like he was serious now, determination shown on his face when he moved to strike back. You both traded blows with him at an impressive speed that your teammates could not match so they sat back and watched you both go at it. Neither one of you were getting the upper hand for very long in the battle but gosh, you were having so much fun! Yuji always gave you a good workout and it was always so exciting. 

You genuinely enjoyed a good fight even before presenting last year. As young as 5, your powers manifested and you were strong. Your parents had been beyond overjoyed when that happened. At such a young and with such raw power, you had such a bright future and you would elevate their social status in the Jujutsu world. So they trained you hard and when they had nothing left to teach you, they sent you here, to school with all of the other sorcerers. They just knew you would be an Alpha. Your overly confident and cocky personality was proof enough but coupled with the immense amount of curse energy you had, there’s no way you could be anything less than that and they treated you with the respect and hardness of one. You easily fell into your roll over the years and believe that you would be an alpha as well.

Your upbringing may have been a bit rougher than you cared to admit, you can’t say you hated all of it. After all, alpha’s didn’t complain so you wouldn’t. Besides, every moment was useful and prepared you for real field work. It gave you the awesome personality trait of being a shit talker. A privilege only allowed to the strong. You adored your parents and thrived under all of their attention so imagine your shock when your attentive parents showed nothing but disdain for your very existence when you finally presented. You were an omega and so they cut ties with you. Abandoning you to the Jujutsu school with nothing but your name and the things you came with. At the very least, you took solace in the fact that your parents never reported you. This small saving grace gave you time and you were grateful for that. You would never scorn your parents because you understood their position.

You were worthless to them now, something they’d have to give up one way or another because according to the law, your kind were to be taken to a secured Omega Center facility immediately after presenting. Whisked away from the outside world and its influences, where they could become easily indoctrinated into proper omega roles. Omega’s were nothing but property to in society.

’Disgusting.’

As an omega, you weren’t meant to fight. In fact, it was illegal for you to even attend this school. ‘But I love to fight and protect the innocent people who cannot fight for themselves.’ You weren’t meant to take risks. ‘But that is my job.’ You weren’t meant to have freedom and make friends with the opposite sex unless they were other omega’s. ‘I really like friends and my sensei. They treat me as an equal, as an individual. They never look down on me.’ You’d be locked away, stripped of everything that was ‘You’ and made to take a mate that would control your every step and force you to have a litter of kids. All that you could do- all you could ever measure up to be was a glorified breeding mare. You would have been a prize to be tamed and pumped full of babies. Nothing more, nothing less. 

‘That’s not the life that I want.’

Discarded and own your own, you unapologetically turned to drugs. Not some low quality trash that would harm you, but something more pure and refined to suit you specifically. Omega Pheromones Blockers or better known as OPB’s. But these were directly from a scientist you stumbled upon. You gave him a blood sample and he tailor made this for you. You thanked the heavens that you were trained to think quickly because the moment you were casted out, it took all but 10 minutes to devise a plan to stay under the radar. Lucky for you that your account was still accessible. You haven been on OPB’s for the last year and to the world, you were just a normal Beta female. Luckily for you, beta's scents were so subtle that it was just barely noticeable. Which is why it is rare for them to attract an Alpha or omega so your almost nonexistent scent went overlooked by everyone. Even if someone did have suspicions, it would become a mere afterthought once they detected your vast amount of curse energy you possessed and that cocky personality of yours. Besides, no omega would be allowed to roam the streets freely without a pack member as protection. 

‘Not like I need a babysitter. I can protect myself.’

But here, fighting the young beta in front of you, was the best! It was fun and he’d never won a single sparring match against you. It fed your ego to know that even as an omega, you were faster and stronger than a beta. Society called you inferior because of your biology but you were so strong. You could handle yourself and even go toe to toe with quite a few alpha’s! Your opponents took you seriously because they thought you were a Beta. Only at the tender age of 17, you were a grade 1 sorcerer and you were a force to be reckoned with. 

However, all of that changed today. You were going to be meeting the trio’s sensei. A powerful, unserious, weirdo, according to Fushiguro. That was extremely confusing to you but Itadori would not shut up about him and with much guilting and convincing, you agreed to meet him. Of course, you have heard about the infamous Gojo clan. Even small families like yours knew to stay clear of them, they were bloodthirsty, ruthless, and carried a deadly aura. Gojo Satoru, was hailed to be the strongest sorcerer of this generation which meant that he was even stronger than anyone in his psychotic clan. So the fact that he existed, a man born with both the Limitless and his Six Eyes, you were not exactly thrilled to be anywhere near that kind of danger. Just the thought of that made your wolf tremble. This was 100% going against your better judgment but it was impossible to deny Itadori. He was such a persistent little golden retriever in your eyes. 

Unexpectedly, the beta in front of you landed a nasty kick to your rib and you doubled over in pain. You swore you heard a faint cracking sound. Yuji's eyes widened as he ran over to you in a panic, the others not so far behind him. 

“Y/N are you ok? I’m so sorry!! I thought you would have dodge.” He crouched next to you in an attempt to assess the damage. You can hear the panic in his voice.

”Y/N! Can you stand? Itadori, you damn idiot! Who kicks a girl with that much force?” Nobara scolded him loudly before punching the top of his head. The Beta winced and Megumi approached y/n.

”I think my rib might be broken…” You chuckle before trying to straighten with some difficulty. 

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

You sat on the paper covered bed with a pout as you listened to Shoko explain your diagnosis to you. You hang your head with annoyance, kicking your dangling feet back and forth like an idle child. Shoko sighed, assuming you weren’t paying attention so she grabbed your chin with her delicate fingers and tilted your head to focus on her.

“Y/n-chan, you have 3 hairline fractures. 3-” She held up 3 fingers with her opposite hand.

“On 2 different ribs. Which is a miracle. You are lucky you didn’t end up with a full on break. A direct hit from Itadori-kun is more than capable of doing it.”  She lets go of you and heads to a medicine cabinet.

“…” You deflated even more but winced in pain.

“2 weeks of bed rest. No missions, no training. And no complaining.” She tossed you a bottle of painkillers, which you caught and she fixed you with a look at the last order. She knew you well enough to know you would pout and try to negotiate the terms of your discharge and pretend like you weren’t in pain.  

“Hai. Hai. Shoko-San.” You pouted before sucking in a deep breath to prepare for the pain when you got off the bed. It hurt like a bitch but you didn’t show any signs of pain as you thanked Shoko and exited the room.

The moment you closed the door, you were frozen in place. Hand still clutching the doorknob as a shock ran through your body and your hackles raised. You were internally panicking and you didn’t realize why until you turned your head and saw the last person you wanted to run into. Gojo Satoru. You may never have met him but everyone knew the description of that man. He was the only young sorcerer in Japan with snow white and brilliant blue eyes that you can peeking out from the tinted glasses on his face.

Your instincts recognized the overwhelming power radiating from that unknown alpha before your nose could even pick up the unfamiliar scent. It frightened you, he frightened you. You were sure your scent relayed that much. His scent alone was so overpowering that it engulfed the hallway like a flood. He smelled of the forest. Clean and crisp after a heavy rain and the slight node natural musk. But it was also sweet, like something you know you’ve come across before. You lifted your head a bit and scented the air. ‘Ah, it’s sugared birch.’ It was one of your favorite candle scents and it helped to calm you most after being abandoned here by your parents. You felt dizzy from his scent, like your consciousness left your body and was hovering around you. You felt your wolf whine at that moment, it was muffled but definitely clear enough to snap you out of that haze. She intended to keep you alert in the face of this threat. Right now, he was slowly closing in on you and you were staring in obvious panic. Everything was screaming at you to bare your neck or prostrate yourself as a sign of submission. It was your wolf. She was gnawing at the edges of your psyche and she seemed just as panicked too.

You had to fight tooth and nail with your inner wolf to move. You wanted to run away. Your mind wanted you to run away but your instincts, though weak, told you that it would be incredibly stupid to do so. A slight upwards tilt of the head came from the alpha as he acknowledges your presence, still slowly making his way towards you just gives confirmation that it would be. He looked predatory. Something in that gesture told you that he was daring you to try. He was daring you to run and it would have been a huge mistake because you could tell that he would catch you and you wouldn’t even get far. 

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears by the time the white haired sorcerer finally stopped about an arms length in front of you. ‘This is insane. He had to be at least 6’2. No, maybe 6’3? Jesus, he is massive.’ You thought to yourself as your head traveled up to look at his face. The height difference only made you feel more intimidated by him.

Bending over slightly to look down on your smaller frame, he gave you a beautifully, disarming smile.

 “Yo.”

You tilted your head to the side and blinked at him twice. You stared at that man in complete confusion as you felt the tension in your body easing away immediately. A wave of calm washed over your body, giving you a warm feeling and dulling your senses. ‘What the hell…?’ Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. One moment you were about ready to claw yourself out of your skin to escape if needed, the next, you felt eerily calm and relaxed. Gojo gave you a knowing smirk before straightening to his full height. 

“You must be Nanami’s student. Itadori-kun speaks of you often. I am his sensei, Gojo Satoru.” He held his hand out for you to shake.You looked down at his hand and bit your lip in contemplation. You didn’t want to touch him so instead you quickly bowed instead, a perfect 90 degree angle. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Gojo-San. You are correct, Nanami-san is my sensei. My name is L/n Y/n, I am a Grade 1 sorcerer.” He used the same outstretched hand to gently grip your chin and raised your face to look at him. His fingers were so hot against your skin, uncomfortably so but you just clench your teeth and bared with it. 

“Y/n-chan. It’s a pleasure to meet another promising young sorcerer.” 

“T-thank you…” Internally smacking yourself for stuttering. ‘Ugh. Since when do I even stutter?! Jeez!’  

You waited for him to remove his hand but he never did. Instead, he directed your head to either side slightly. He paused for a moment, seemingly in deep thought then smirked. In response to this, you raised a brow at him in question but he released your chin before you could verbally inquire as to what he was looking at. 

“L/n-chan, I almost forgot-” The door to your right opened and Shoko appeared, interrupting whatever was going on.

“Ah. Gojo. It’s been a while.” The doctor turned and greeted her friend.

“It has been.” He responded in acknowledgment but seems to have kept his eyes on you. 

“Uh, excuse me but I’m going to go now.” You said to the pair.

“Oh, hold on sec. Here.” The doctor turned to you and handed you a bottle of pills.

“Take these with food before bed. It's an antibiotic.”

You looked down at the bottle in your hands and nodded numbly before scurrying off, avoiding the man that you knew was staring at you. You could feel his gaze burning into you back until you turned the corner.  

__________________________________

“Working hard these days, Ieiri?”

”The young ones keep me busy. That one especially.” Shoko said to her friend as she shook her head. 

“Oh?” He inquired curiously. He was very interested in the cute little omega.

”That little beta is quite reckless. This time it's fractured ribs, last month I could barely recognize her, she was beaten so badly that she looked half dead. I’m surprised she made a full recovery, honestly. But.. that girl was the sole reason her team came back without any casualties from a special grade curse mission that they had no business fighting to begin with.” Shoko paused and smiled softly to herself.

‘Beta? Her scent was quite subtle, even for a beta but full of the sweetness only an omega can carry. Besides, she responded well when I used my scent to calm her earlier. There’s no way she is a beta. But if she can fool Nanami and Ieiri, she’s no doubt has fooled the other members of the school. Heh. What a clever little omega.’ He smirked proudly to himself. He was proud to know that the little, barely trained wolf was fiercely protective to the point of sacrificing her own precious life for others. ‘Reckless, indeed though. That little one must have a stubborn streak like no other to persevere in such a battle when all her comrades could no longer fight. Hmm. Brave, talented, and brilliant enough to figure out how to conceal her secondary gender. I’m liking you more and more Y/n L/n.’ He really was very curious about this girl. Gojo rarely got curious about anything but something about this omega really caught his attention.

“Heh, you’ll end up working yourself into an early retirement with that one.” He joked.

“Hopefully not too early. I gave that beta enough tranquilizers to last her 2 whole weeks.” 

“So those antibiotics?”

“Yup, that’s right. They were sedatives.” She beamed at her friend.

“How naughty, Ieiri.” He was chuckled, though he was actually pretty shocked with his former teammate. 

“Don’t give me that. If I hadn’t, surely that child would be back here within the week. I have a lot of work to do and if I can make a preemptive strike to stop her from ending up back in here with even worse damage, then I will.” She ranted.

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

You made it to your room with much effort, collapsing on your bed as gently as you could while hissing in pain. Thankfully you had been able to avoid meeting any of your friends on your way here. 

“Fuck… even breathing hurts.” You truly were in too much pain and shock to actually deal with people at the moment. Pain for obvious reasons but shock due to the way your body reacted to your best friend's sensei.

`What the fuck even happened? I’ve never met such an intimidating alpha before. He made my body just go haywired. I went from scared to panicked to dizzy to calm and then docile. What the actual fuck… is that how most omega’s act around True Alpha?’ There were no other True Alpha at this school. True alpha’s were extremely rare. They were born as Alpha’s and so they are one and the same with their wolf. They were usually considered to be a bit on the unhinged side due that since a wolf is the rawest, primal part of an individual. Of course, they didn’t go through ruts until they were physically mature but when they did, it was said to be more intense than that of a regular alpha. They were naturally stronger and more advanced than any other Alpha as well as mask their scents at will. ‘And Gojo sits on the very top of them all. Well at least, that’s what everyone was told.’

You decided to put those thoughts away for the moment and decided you needed a shower. You were dreading it, it’ll definitely take a lot of effort. Sighing, you dragged yourself off the bed with a whimper then headed to the bathroom.

Your shower took a bit longer than expected but it was successful. You were super tired but even more so, you were hungry. Grabbing your phone, you send a quick text to Yuji. 

You: Itadori! I have been released! I just barely escaped clutches of death! :D

Yuji: Y/n-chan! What was the verdict? Will you survive the night? :O

You: Unlikely… But if a brave knight brings me sustenance, there is hope! 

Yuji: Roger! 

You chuckled at that. You knew he would happily get you something to eat since he was your best friend. While you waited, you dressed yourself in a plain satin nightgown that buttoned up. There was no way you would be lifting your arms above your head for a while to put on any other type of clothing. You arrange a few pillows on your bed to prop yourself upright then you sit down and grab your laptop, browsing for a movie. There was a knock at your door about 30 minutes later.

“It’s open!” You shouted and the door opened to reveal two men.

“We come bearing nourishments, my lady.”  Itadori stated with a bad old English accent and it made you giggle. 

“Why thank you, good sir.” You smile and place your palm over your heart, careful not to actually touch your chest and bow your head to him.

Both boys entered the room and closed the door behind them. They took a spot on either side of you then opened the bag of food, pulling out a few different trays from your favorite restaurant and placing them in front of the laptop. 

“How are you feeling Y/n-chan?” Megumi asked you while you guys began to eat. 

“Not terrible, but breathing does hurt a tad bit.” You chuckled to yourself. Itadori turned to you with watery eyes apologized again for hurting you. You poked his cheek with your finger and gave a fake angry look.

”Oh cut it out, it was my fault that I got hurt and you know it. I’m the one who’s sorry for cutting our training time short but guess you finally beat me. It sucks though,  Shoko-san has effectively grounded me for the next 2 weeks.” You huff before pouting.

”It’s a good thing. No one is more danger prone than you, Y/n-chan.” The dark haired one chimed in.

”Hey! Rude! I am not danger prone! Tell him, Itadori-kun!” You turned your head to your best friend for backup. He avoided your gaze and started whistling nervously.

Your mouth dropped open and you smacked his hand.

“Traitor!” You yelled and the both of you laughed while the alpha rolled his eyes at your antics. 

The rest of the night finished with the boys cleaning up and leaving after helping you adjust yourself into a laying down position and you taking your medicine. You have to admit,  the painkiller really helped. In less than 20 minutes you could feel the pain subsiding into a dull throb. Maybe the antibiotics will help too. You sighed in relief and relaxed into the bed just before sleep overtook you.

__________________________________

It was just after midnight when Gojo Satoru appeared outside the window of your dorm. He slid the glass to the side and jumped onto the windowsill, looking down at your sleeping form. He took a whiff of the room, expecting to be engulfed in her scent but he immediately frowned. It smelled disgustingly of his young alpha pseudo son and his newer beta student. Both male scents were stale but having it around the one he was interested in, in her space and over powering your scent did irritate him.

A low grumble emitted from his throat. He was not pleased in the slightest. Though none of those children posed a real threat, he couldn’t hide the displeasure on his face. ‘I came here to explore her scent more. Not to be bombarded by the scents of inferior males.’ He wrinkled his nose in disgust. He could still smell the little one on the bed but it was still quite weak. Especially given the fact that this is your bedroom, your scent should be strongest in here but it was not. He glanced around the room and noticed how bare it was, but he was taken aback to see the lack of a nest. 

‘How strange. Even if she was pretending to be a beta, an omega without a nest is an unstable thing.’

Shaking his head, he crept down onto the bed and sat down with his legs folded at the end of the bed. He slid off his glasses and peered at the sleeping silhouette before him. He could smell better now that he was this close to you.

“Hmm…” Still he was displeased. He wanted to see your face right now and from his position, he could not.Satoru moved to lay beside you, resting his head on his fist to prop him up. He stared at the unconscious little omega. 

“You are pretty enough. A solid 8.5.” He said to no one as he took in your facial features. Your eyelashes were exceptionally long, kissing your cheeks, your lips were a pretty rosy color and your h/c hair cascaded around you in waves, giving you an angelic image. 

“Yes, definitely pretty enough.” He nodded to himself. Focusing on the reason for his visit, the alpha reached out and grabbed the blanket that covered your body, pulling it down to your waist. He was distracted momentarily by how big your breasts were. Your sleep shirt had the first 3 buttons undone, revealing your impressive cleavage. It was hypnotizing to watch your chest rise and fall with each breath and it was almost  tempting to touch her. But Gojo was better than some low level scum. He had way more control than that. He wouldn’t take advantage of an injured omega. 

Ignoring her body, he sat up fully near her face then reached down to tilt your head in his direction and pulled the collar of her dress aside. Without another thought, he brought his head down to her delicate neck and took a deep inhale of you scent, straight from the source. Your scent gland.

The white hair man’s eyes flew open in utter shock. She was sweet, no doubt there, even more so than he originally could pick up earlier. She smelled like a honey crisp apple. He licked his lips, Y/n smelled delicious to him. Sweet and with a slight tartness to it but that was all which was odd. Usually there was a mixture of things that made up a person’s unique scent.

“Wait-”

There was something else, something wrong. Something chemical. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and buried his nose further into your neck. Careful not to touch you beyond that in fear of hurting you, he gripped the bed sheets around you and inhaled again deeply. ‘Hmm. Actually, there are quite a few chemicals.’ It took all of 30 seconds for his brain to pinpoint exactly what was polluting this little omega’s scent. The sorcerer sighed and leaned away from you in realization.

“Suppressants. And damn good ones at that.” 

‘Little girl, how naughty you’ve been. Taking suppressants is very illegal. Though, you must have good connections to get such a high quality drug. Not only are they suppressing your second gender, but it also seems like something this refined is also giving you a false scent of a beta as a cover.’ He thought to himself after sitting up. Regular suppressants were nowhere near this well crafted and would have been easily detected by a jujutsu sorcerer. Essentially, it would never have gotten past Nanam, let alone Ieiri.

‘Heh. I would have never guessed that a student could get her hands on black market drugs. How intriguing you are, little wolf. Much more intriguing than I originally thought.’ He thought to himself as he admired your beauty.

“You seem to be really enjoying the life you have now. It's a shame that I’m going to end up destroying it.” He grinned wickedly, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. 

“I just don’t think I’ll be able to let you go.” He stroked her cheek lovingly before. His eyes glinted with a new formed obsession.

A/N: Chapter 2 has been posted.

[imagine-you]

my love is alive and not dead [Logan/Reader]

Summary: The sixth and final chapter of won't somebody come take me home. All hell has well and truly broken loose with the arrival of old friends and unwanted guests. You want nothing more than to send Jean and the other Logan home, but you start to realize that your main priority has to be freeing your Logan from Apocalypse's clutches. You're not prepared for the sacrifice you'll have to make to wake Logan, but it might be the only way to get him home and secure the future you're so desperate to share with him. Word Count: 10.1k This Chapter May Contain: Angst, Reunions, Surprise Cameos!, Near-Death Experiences, Logan Brooding, Retribution, Teamwork, Fluff, and A Happy Ending.

Home 'Verse Read On AO3

"Get the fuck out," you spat at Jean and the other Logan. You knew Jean was the bigger threat, especially when she was using her full powers, but you couldn't take your eyes off the other Logan. You didn't trust him and you sure as hell didn't want to let your guard down around him. "Leave," you demanded when they both kept staring at you. "I don't care how the fuck you do it, but you’ve got to go back. You sure as hell can't stay here."  

"We're only here to help," Jean claimed, holding on to her usual unbothered facade. "I've defeated Apocalypse before. I can do it again. I thought you would appreciate us lending a hand." 

You rolled your eyes, beginning to form a spiked forcefield around your fist. "Get out," you ordered. "We've got more than enough here to defeat Apocalypse. We don’t need you. We’ve never needed you," you stressed, meeting the other Logan’s stare.  

"Are you really going to deny our help because of our past?" Jean wondered, arching an eyebrow at you in question. “I thought you’d want to put all that behind us given the current circumstances.” 

You let out a disbelieving laugh, taking a step in her direction. You didn't care if she could kill you with just a though, because all you wanted to do was hurt her. She had swept your life away from you like it was nothing and now she wanted to play nice? You didn’t trust her as far as you could throw her and that was not at all. You wanted her and the other Logan gone so badly that you could feel your shoulders pull tight with tension. You were poised, ready to strike at just one wrong word, but you weren’t even sure which one of them you wanted to hit more.  

"Hold on, now," Cable started, moving to put himself between you and Jean. "We're all here for the same reason." 

"Are we?" You questioned, looking from Jean to the other Logan. "Because I can't help but think their motives aren't so altruistic. After Scott died, those two made my life hell," you reminded everyone in the room. "You really think I can trust them to help me get back the love of my life? What the fuck are you two even doing here? Shouldn’t you have fucked off into the sunset together with your kid?" 

You noticed the other Logan shift warily on his feet. "You came back to get me from Omega Red. We can do this for you." You thought he would leave it there, touched that maybe he had found some semblance of compassion since you were gone. Until he opened his mouth again. "And then you can come back home." 

You blinked at him in surprise before the words fully registered. "What the fuck did you just say?" 

“Oh, it’s about to get good,” you heard Wade mutter. 

"Come home," the other Logan repeated, having the audacity to look like he genuinely wanted you back in your original universe.  

 You could do nothing but stare at the other Logan for a moment before you started laughing. It was too high, too hysterical, and entirely done with the whole situation. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you growled.  

Cable held a hand up, his palm facing you. "Why don't we just calm down, alright? Let's think about the bigger picture here." 

"No, no," Wade tutted, shaking a finger at Cable. "Let her cook." 

"What is wrong with you?" You couldn't help but wonder as you stared down the other Logan. "Do you not remember when you dropped me at the first opportunity for her?" You gestured towards Jean, trying hard not to sneer at her. "Do you not remember when I showed up to save your ass and then told you I was happier here? Do you not remember that I never want to go back, because I found the right Logan? The better Logan? Huh? Any of that ringing a bell?" 

The other Logan's jaw was clenched, and you could see him trying to suppress his irritation. "This isn't your home," he tried to argue, and you finally decided you had enough.  

You lunged at the other Logan, letting the spikes disappear as you hit him over and over again. You didn’t want this to be over too soon, preferring to take your time with the other Logan. You wanted him to feel pain and while it would never compare to the kind he had inflicted on you, it would have to do for now. So, you let your forcefield take the brunt of the impact, bringing it down into his face over and over again.  

The other Logan’s nose broke and blood was now pouring freely from a cut on his lip, but you couldn't stop. You realized that the other Logan was simply letting you take out all your anger on him and that only fueled your rage more. You didn't need pity from him or any favors. You needed him gone.  

You had drawn your fist up for another hit when you staggered back, clutching your head as a blinding agony took over. It took you entirely too long to realize it was Jean. You remembered the psychic blasts she would bestow on opponents, putting them through unimaginable pain. Now you knew what it felt like, and it only served to piss you off even more.  

You turned your attention away from the other Logan and towards her. You could shield yourself, but you wanted to annoy her. So, you brought up a shaky hand and pushed past the pain to erect a forcefield around her, cutting off her psychic power. Jean narrowed her eyes at you, but you weren't done. You felt a grin form on your face as the first spike shot out, nearly catching Jean in the side. Her eyes went wide in surprise, and you spat out a mouthful of blood. Jean's attack had startled you enough that you had bitten the side of your mouth and now blood was all you could taste.  

"You're not the only one with tricks," you told her. "Want another one?" 

"Alright, alright," Magik sighed before grabbing your arm. "Break it up, children." 

You were suddenly on the front lawn, Magik still keeping a tight grip on your arm. You could hear shouting inside the mansion, and you turned back to consider it, not able to get a good glimpse into the room where you were previously standing. 

You were equal parts grateful and annoyed for Illyana’s intervention. You wanted to see just how many hits you could get in before Jean crumbled. You wanted to bash the other Logan’s face in until he could see nothing but his own blood. You wanted to destroy them, but you also knew that it wouldn’t bring you the peace you sought. You would only get that back once the pair of them were gone and you had your Logan back. Now, you were caught in a weird limbo where nothing felt right, and everything was fucked up.  

"Fuck," you sighed before letting yourself drop onto the ground.  

"Fuck," Illyana agreed, sitting down at your side. "Breakups are messy." 

You snorted, shaking your head. "It's not even the breakup anymore," you admitted, listening to the raised voices inside the front room.  

You heard the other Logan roar before Wade was thrown through the window. He was bent over the frame, a piece of glass sticking through his torso. He let himself fall forward as a flash lit up the front room and you heard Charles tell Alex to calm down in an exasperated voice.  

You watched as Wade practically bounced back to his feet, shaking off glass as he rapidly healed the claw marks along his ribs.  

"It's her and it's him and it's them here together while my Logan is off being a weapon for Apocalypse. They're the last people I wanted to see," you continued once the ruckus died down. 

Wade dropped down on your other side, throwing an arm around your shoulders.  

"Maybe I should have called on a different ex of yours," Illyana mused, gaining Wade's attention. You could feel him practically perk up at your side.  

"Oh? Please share," Wade chimed in, leaning forward to get a better look at Illyana. "I thought she only had eyes for tall, dark, and angry in there." 

Illyana laughed, shooting you a smirk. "Not entirely," she allowed with a shrug of her shoulders. "There was one Sergeant Barnes. The two of you were so sweet together." 

You hadn't thought of Bucky in a while, but you couldn't deny that you missed him. Before the two of you fell together, you had been friends. You had been pining over Logan and Bucky had been missing Steve, so it just made sense that the two of you would seek comfort in each other. It had been good, perfect, until it wasn't. But you knew that despite the distance, if Magik had gone to him telling him you needed help, he would have dropped everything to be here.  

"Oh my God," Wade gasped, pointing at you. "Look at that smile. You fucked the Winter Soldier! Wow, you really like the strong, silent, traumatized type," he remarked, bumping his shoulder into yours.  

You ignored Wade and turned your focus on Illyana. "You need to take them back. I don't want them here. I don't need them here." 

"I think you do," she refuted, shaking her head. "Jean killed Apocalypse once before. Maybe she can kill this one too. You're being stubborn, no?" 

You sighed, not wanting to admit that maybe Magik was right. There were a lot of things you were willing to compromise for the sake of Logan, your dignity among them. "I'm not apologizing," you told her, knowing you sounded childish. "And I can't promise that I won't try to kill Jean or that asshole in there if they piss me off." 

"First, we kill Apocalypse," Magik replied, before shooting you a conspiratorial smirk. "And then if you still want to kill the two idiots, I'll help you." 

"Yes," Wade hissed in approval. "That's what I'm talking about," he agreed with a hand raised at Illyana. She simply quirked an eyebrow at him before reluctantly giving him a high-five.  

"It is chaos in there," Piotr interrupted, approaching the three of you. "I do not think this was the best idea." 

"You're telling me," you sighed, before gesturing towards Illyana. "Piotr, this is Illyana. Rasputin," you added, glancing between the two of them. "And this is Piotr Rasputin." 

Illyana looked intrigued as she turned her full attention on Piotr. She moved to stand, saying something in Russian, before Piotr responded. They had a whole conversation before wonder flashed across Piotr's face as he held his hand out for Illyana to shake.  

"Not that this isn't fascinating," Wade started, springing to his feet. He reached out a hand, helping you up off the ground. "But what the fuck is going on here?" 

"It seems we share a sibling," Illyana answered, still watching Piotr in fascination. "A brother named Mikhail." 

"Maybe we were brother and sister in another universe," Piotr speculated with a nod of his head.  

Illyana let slip a soft smile in Piotr's direction before she let it fall away. "We should go back inside. Apocalypse will only grow stronger and I'm sure you're eager to get back to your Logan. Think you can play nice? Just for now?" 

"I'll try," you conceded, shooting Wade a wary look. "But if he pisses me off, I'm going to break his face. Again." 

Wade offered you a fist bump as you trudged back into the house. You knew whatever you were about to face, he would have your back.  

The other Logan had already healed by the time you reconvened with the rest of the group. He was leaning up against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he glowered at the others in the room. You had to fight the urge to hit him again, instead sticking to Wade's side next to the doorway in case you wanted to make a strategic retreat.  

Of course, it didn't take long for everything to go pear-shaped.  

It started off civil and quickly teetered into more bickering and yelling.  

"We just need a plan," Cable reiterated for what felt like the fiftieth time. "Why can't we just act like a fucking team instead of a bunch of children?" 

"Because we're not a team," you reminded him. "Some of us shouldn't even be here." 

Wade snorted, before turning his gaze on the other Logan. "You got that right." 

"We got a problem here, bub?"  

"Oh, I've got ninety-nine problems, bitch, and you're every one." 

The other Logan freed his claws with a growl. "Come over here and say that." 

"Oh, I can take you, big guy," Wade promised with a laugh. "But before we get started, let me tell you my safeword." 

"Do you ever just shut the fuck up?" The other Logan snarled, taking a step towards Wade.  

"Not really, no," Wade answered, holding his hand out and curling his fingers in towards his palm, silently beckoning Logan forward.  

"We're not going to get shit done like this," Alex groaned, looking like he was barely keeping himself contained. "My brother has been taken by this Apocalypse fuck and we're getting nowhere. I swear to God, if he dies because we can’t get our shit together, I’m killing every one in this room." 

"We should figure out where Apocalypse is looking for his next Horseman," your Erik volunteered. His jaw was clenched, and you knew he was growing tired of the fighting. He had very little patience for team squabbles and you reckoned it wouldn’t be long until he started showcasing his own power, seeking an end to the arguing. 

"I can go down to Cerebro," Charles volunteered, but from the way he looked at his Erik, you knew he was hesitant to leave him. 

"That's a start," Remy mused from where he was sitting in an armchair near the broken window. "We also need to figure out how this little team of ours is gonna work when half of us wants to kill the other half." 

"I don't remember ever havin' a problem with you, sugar," Rogue pointed out, watching Remy with interest.  

"I'd never have a problem with someone so beautiful," Remy replied with a smirk. He turned his gaze on the others, his eyes landing on Jean and the other Logan. "But this won't work if we don't all play nice now." 

"I'll play nice if Wolvie over there does," Wade promised, nodding at the other Logan.  

"Don't fucking call me that," the other Logan snapped, the fragile peace in the room breaking again.  

You didn't want to listen to another argument, so you slipped out of the room.  

You found yourself wandering until you stopped outside a familiar door. You opened it, taking in the sight of the room before you. It wasn't yours, at least not in this universe, but you still found yourself walking inside as if it still belonged to you.  

You wandered from the bed towards the window. It was still the same view. You weren't sure why you were expecting it to be different, but you found it oddly comforting.  

Here, you could see the trees that outlined the property. The way the sunlight hit them, the branches swaying lazily in the breeze, brought you a measure of peace you hadn’t felt since Logan was taken. It was a sight you had appreciated in your old universe when you just needed time to think. It had offered you solace in your desolation, and while you weren’t so lonely in this universe, you still wanted a moment to yourself.  

It was incredibly short-lived.  

"I thought I'd find you here." 

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You should have known he wouldn't be able to just leave you alone. In the Void, you had dreamt of having a moment like this one. One where you left, and he tracked you down, and you knew that he well and truly cared about you. But everything had changed, and you no longer felt anything for him except for disdain.  

You no longer needed him and you sure as hell didn’t want him here. All you really wanted was for him to go away. 

Since when had he ever given you what you wanted? 

"Get out," you ordered, not bothering to even look at the other Logan. You were trying and failing to grip tightly onto the brief semblance of serenity you had forged for yourself. You didn’t want to allow him to disrupt it, but he had a penchant for fucking things up for you.  

"You know," he started, moving further into the room.  

You groaned, letting your head dop forward until your forehead touched the glass window. “Can’t you just fucking listen to me for once?” 

"The baby wasn't mine,” the other Logan continued, ignoring your words. He didn’t say anything for a moment, letting you absorb the bombshell he dropped. “It was Scott's," he informed you, as if he thought you should give a fuck. As if he thought it changed anything between the two of you. "Jean's still in love with him." 

You laughed, not even able to help it. "I could've told you that if you hadn't dropped me the second she bothered to look at you. How’s it feel, huh? Being second best. Never measuring up to the person she really loves and lying awake at night knowing there’s not a damn thing you can do to make her love you like you love her. Never being good enough. Knowing that when she looks at you, she’s wishing you were him. Bet it fucking sucks, right? Because that’s exactly what you put me through, so I’m only going to ask you this once and I deserve an answer. Why the fuck are you even telling me this?"  

You finally turned to meet his gaze, reading his expression. No matter how much you wished to forget him, you had spent years knowing him. You didn't need to be a telepath to know what he was thinking. "Let me guess," you started, leaning against the wall behind you. "You got everything you ever wanted, paid whatever price it took, except it wasn't exactly like you pictured it. Guess that's why they say be careful what you wish for." 

"I thought she needed me," the other Logan admitted with a scowl. "But she never really did. I only ever wanted to be there for her. I wanted to be what she needed," he added with a rueful grimace. He locked eyes with you, his expression mournful but without a hint of remorse for what he had put you through. "But you, you always needed me. And I didn't appreciate that enough. But I know now. I know what you need and it’s not with him. You should come back, and I'll be better this time."  

You laughed again, this time nowhere near as amused. "You're fucking crazy, you know that? It's not my fucking fault that you fucked it all up between us. But you know what? You did me a fucking favor," you spat, advancing on him. "Because once I get Logan back, my Logan, and you fuck back off to your universe, I want nothing to do with you. You can fuck off and die for all I care, because I found someone who actually loves me and would never abandon me." 

The other Logan didn't say anything for one beat of your heart and then the next before he shook his head. "Well, he's not here now, is he?" 

"That was the wrong thing to say," you warned him before drawing your fist back and punching him again without the aid of your forcefield. Pain radiated up your arm, but it almost felt good. The blood running from the other Logan's nose felt even better.  

You decided to hit him again and again before using a forcefield to push him to the floor. You kept him there, not wanting him to move until you said what you hoped would be your final words to him.  

“I don’t need you. I don’t love you. Not anymore and never again, because I found someone, a whole family,” you amended, knowing you couldn’t discount just how much everyone in this universe truly meant to you. “So, listen to me when I tell you that I’m not going back. I never am. So, you better accept the reality you brought on yourself real fuckin’ fast, because I will never go back to you. Never,” you stressed, waiting for the hint of begrudging acceptance in his expression before you let your forcefield go. “You can do one good thing for me, just the one,” you allowed, taking a step away from him. “You can help me get my Logan back, but then once that’s done, I want you to get the fuck out of here. I’m never going back there to be with you and I sure as hell don’t warrant being your fallback plan. I don’t care if you go back to Jean and I don’t care if you leave the X-Men and wander off into the wilderness to find yourself. As long as you go back, then I don’t care. That’s all I want. That’s all I’ll ever need from you again. You got that?” 

 The other Logan briefly rolled his eyes, but his head dipped in a tiny nod of understanding. You knew only time would tell if your words had actually hit home, but you couldn’t keep trying to get it through his thick skull that you were well and truly off the market.  

You had more important things to worry about.  

"I came to check on you, but you seem to have yourself well in hand," Remy interrupted from the doorway. "C'mon, chérie," he prompted, beckoning you towards him. "Last thing you need is a broken hand along with broken ribs." 

You glanced down at your hand, the knuckles split and bleeding. When you flexed your fingers, you could feel a bone-deep ache work its way up your arm. “Yeah,” you sighed, “I’m done here.” 

Remy chuckled, glancing down at the other Logan. “Oh, I can see that.” 

You shot the other Logan a glare on your way past him, shaking out your hand. "I still don't trust you," you informed Remy as you followed him out of the room.  

"I wouldn't expect you to," he allowed with a smile. “But I supposed between me and your friend in there, I’m the better option. Did you enjoy your present?” 

You felt a reluctant smile tug at your lips as you thought about your getaway with Logan. You really didn’t trust Remy, not after everything that happened with Sinister, but you got the hint he wanted to try to make amends. “I did,” you confirmed with a nod of your head. “Didn’t think you and Wade would conspire like that.” 

“I owed you and le petit rouge wanted to get you something nice. It was really nothing,” he deflected with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“Well, thanks,” you told him, not wanting it to go unsaid between the two of you. “Keep that coming and maybe I’ll even start to like you.” 

Remy shot you a pleased grin over his shoulder. “Well, how can I resist a temptation like that?” 

You followed Remy down one hallway and then another, realizing he was starting to take you towards Cerebro. You were brought up short by Rogue leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for the two of you.  

"Wondered when we'd run into each other again," Remy mused, joining Rogue with a satisfied smirk.  

"Funny, I was wonderin' the same thing," she told him, matching his grin.  

Remy swayed forward just the tiniest bit, as if drawn in by Rogue, and you did not want to be the one to interrupt whatever the fuck they had going on. You clapped a hand to Remy's shoulder, waving off his questioning look, as you passed the pair.  

You made your way down to Cerebro, glad that you didn't run into anyone else on the way there. You got there in time to see Charles with the helmet on his head, his eyes closed as he concentrated. Piotr was standing right behind Charles, with your Erik not far behind. He was still watching over Charles, even if this wasn't his husband, as if he wanted to protect any Charles he came across.  

"What's going on?" You asked Wade, who was standing back near the doorway.  

"Ol' Chuck over there thinks he knows where Apocalypse might be holing up with his Horseman." Wade glanced at you, his tone changing to concern. "You alright there, baby bird? You're looking a little freaked out." 

"I had a talk with the other Logan," you confessed, not able to stop the frown from forming on your face. You had spent many days and nights in your old universe wishing that the other Logan would see sense and come back to you. Now, that you were finally happy, here he was making good on that wish. It just made you hate him even more.  

"Oh? How'd that go? You happen to knock him out again? I'm sad I missed the show." 

"No," you answered, "although, I did hit him again. A few times,” you confessed with an embarrassed wince. You didn’t like letting your anger get the best of you, but you felt like it was warranted for this situation. “He wanted me to go back with him, because Jean's still obsessed with Scott. The baby's Scott's by the way." 

"God," Wade groaned, stomping his foot on the floor with a huff. "I miss all the good drama, I swear. Your life is angstier than a season of Degrassi. It really goes there, huh?" 

"I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you told him, letting your arm brush against his in apology. “But I do know that I need Logan back," you sighed. "At least Laura doesn't have to deal with this bullshit. I don't want her seeing him like that.” 

"Like what?"  

"He was just...completely blank,” you settled on with a frown. “He didn't even recognize me. It was like all that we had been through was just wiped away with one touch from Apocalypse. And he's going to try to kill us, because that’s what Apocalypse will want, and I don't want Laura fighting him. She doesn't deserve to have to go through that." 

"And you do?" Wade argued, his tone disapproving. "You love him. You shouldn't have to fight him either. Not when he's going to be trying to kill all of us. I can take on the angry bear just fine all by myself, so maybe you should just wait here. Where it’s safe," he tacked on, letting you know what he was really worried about. 

"Like that'll happen," you dismissed with a humorless laugh. "I have to be there, Wade. I can’t just leave him there. Even if something goes wrong, because it will, I have to be there for him." 

Wade heaved a heavy sigh before nodding his head. "Yeah, I was afraid you were gonna say that."  

You gifted him with a sad smile before swaying into his side, letting him put an arm around your shoulders.  

"Then let's fucking go," you decided, watching Charles take off Cerebro's helmet and give a satisfied nod to Erik and Piotr.  

"Let's fucking go," Wade agreed with a nod of his head.  

Wanda and Pietro weren’t thrilled they had to stay behind with Charles and their father. Your Erik considered the two with a wistful expression before shifting his gaze towards Charles and the other Erik.  

“I’ll bring Lorna back,” your Erik promised with a solemn expression. “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her. I know how precious your loved ones are to you,” he continued, meeting Charles’ eyes.  

There was a long, drawn-out moment when it was clear that Erik and Charles were having a conversation only they could hear. Charles ducked his head, a blush dusting his cheeks, and you marveled at the sight of Charles acting shy. You had only ever really known Charles as the steadfast headmaster, Professor X, mentor and advisor. But you were starting to realize there was a whole lot more to Charles than you had ever known, and you couldn’t help but feel curious about what his past held.  

The other Erik, where he was still lying injured on the couch, looked like he was seconds away from getting up to fight your Erik. He was jealous, you realized with a grin, and you wondered if it was part of a plot to get the Erik and Charles of this universe together too.  

From the smug expression on your Erik’s face and the challenging eyebrow he arched at the injured Erik, you knew you were right.  

“Are you sure we can’t go?” Pietro checked, speeding from one end of the room to the other. “I’m fast. You might need me.” 

“And I can fight too,” Wanda insisted, turning a frustrated look in your direction.  

“I’m afraid it’s best if you stay here,” Charles remarked, regaining his composure. “If Apocalypse has your sister, then there’s every reason to believe he’ll use her against you.” 

Pietro was practically pouting at being left out and Wade leaned over towards you.  

“Sequel material,” he whispered, ignoring your questioning look.  

Once the team or whatever the hell you all were assembled, it didn’t take long to get everyone on the X-Jet. Cable was piloting, ignoring Piotr’s attempt to take the role for himself, and promised that it wouldn’t be long until you arrived.   

You were used to being on the X-Jet, but you didn't know how to handle the awkward tension that threatened to suffocate you. The other Logan and Jean were on the opposite side of the jet from you, and while you did your best to ignore them, you could still feel the weight of their stares.  

"You alright there?" Alex asked, addressing you. He had chosen the seat on your right, spending the ride so far with an irritated expression and flexing his hands, as if he was gearing up to use his power.  

"Yeah," you lied with a nod of your head. "Worried about Logan. You?" 

"Same," he dutifully lied as well. "Worried about my brother. I'm worried about what this Apocalypse fuck might be doing to him. Worried about his girlfriend too. Scotty sure loves her," he told you. “It’d destroy him if anything happened to her.” 

"He'll be okay," you tried to promise, even though you weren't entirely sure. All you could think about was Scott's body cradled by a grieving Jean. Scott might not have been your favorite person on the team, but he had been your leader. He made the tough calls and he kept the team together when you all threatened to crumble. Without him, everything fell apart.  

You found yourself meeting Jean's gaze, knowing she could read what was on your mind. It was likely the only time you would ever feel sympathy for her, because while you had gotten your second chance with the love of your life, she never would.  

"Five minutes," Cable called from the front of the jet. "Get ready!" 

"So, we'll get Logan back and then you and him and the little munchkin can ride happily off into the sunset," Wade started, dropping down into the seat on your other side. "Then you and Logan and Vanessa and me can have a double wedding and a shared honeymoon and our rugrats will be friends." 

You couldn't help the grin that tugged at your lips. Wade always knew what to say to make you feel better.  

"Munchkin?" The other Logan repeated with a scowl. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

"Laura," you supplied, feeling just a bit of a thrill at how vindictive your next words would feel. "My daughter. With my Logan." 

The other Logan's face fell at your words and Wade snickered, turning to hide his face in your shoulder.  

"Oh, you are evil," he approved with a kiss to your cheek. "Baby bird's got claws." 

You shook your head, knocking your head gently into Wade's. "You are so weird," you breathed, tone affectionate.  

"You know it," Wade pointed out, fully sitting up in his seat once he felt the jet begin to descend. "It's showtime," he muttered, shooting you one more searching look before he was up and checking over his holstered weapons.  

You weren't really sure what you were expecting once the jet landed. You thought you would find a scene of total chaos. Hollowed-out buildings and corpses littering the ground. But all you saw when you made it off the walkway leading out of the X-Jet was Apocalypse waiting in the middle of an abandoned street.  

"Did you think you could sneak up on me?" Apocalypse wondered, watching as your makeshift team filed out onto the street. "Nothing will stop me." 

"Oh my God," Wade breathed as he took a step towards Apocalypse. "I didn’t know it was you! I loved you in Star Wars." 

Apocalypse considered Wade with a thoughtful glance before he turned his attention on Jean. "Don't I already have one of you? I admit, you would make a formidable Horseman, but I already have my team. Besides, it was never my intention to take your variant or her companion. It seems as if that was plot devised by Sinister. Now, we might never know what he had planned for them. Pity," he said, finally turning his gaze on you.  

You couldn't help but wonder if this had somehow been part of Nathaniel's plan all along. Maybe he knew if he was going to die, then he could still fuck everyone over just one last time.  

"Scott," Alex muttered, his attention caught by something just beyond Apocalypse.  

It was Scott and Jean. Both had been knocked unconscious and were lying on the sidewalk. You couldn't even tell if they were breathing, because they were too far away, but you sure as hell knew how to spot a trap that obvious. 

"Alex, don't," you warned when you noticed Alex tense up, coiled to attack. 

"You're gonna regret taking my brother," Alex told Apocalypse, ignoring you, as he geared up for his attack. He shot one plasma burst at Apocalypse, but Apocalypse seemed to anticipate the move and blocked it with a forcefield.  

"And you will regret fighting me," Apocalypse claimed with a satisfied smile.  

You nearly didn't see him, because you were so focused on Apocalypse. But you sure as hell noticed his power, an intense heat that only grew stronger. There was a burst of light before you finally saw him. You had no idea who he was, but he practically glowed, radiating a light so strong you nearly had to look away. He held up his hand, aimed at Alex, and you reacted instinctively.  

"Remy," you called, an idea coming to you. You had no idea if it would work, but you had to at least try. It might be the only way to save Alex's life. You met his gaze, nodding towards where you were forming a forcefield around the guy preparing to kill Alex. "Make it go boom," you commanded, catching his excited grin before you focused on your forcefield. 

The guy, whoever he was, was extremely powerful. You could feel the force of his power slamming against your forcefield, and you had to grit your teeth, feeling like you were barely holding on. Remy worked quick as he charged one of his cards and threw it at your forcefield.  

You watched it land, relief flooding you when you noticed the pink glow of Remy's power engulf it. Your heart was beating fast in your chest and you had to pour everything you had into your forcefield. When Remy's charge activated, you only had a moment to prepare before the explosion happened.  

The force of it was focused inward on the stranger caught in your trap. There was blood coating the sides of your forcefield, and you were hesitant to drop it, because he had been so incredibly powerful. You weren't even sure if he was dead but you waited until you felt the remnants of his power slip away from your defenses.  

"You dare to take Sunfire from me? My Famine?" Apocalypse questioned, barely concealed fury in his voice. "My other Horsemen won't fall so easy," he promised and then you heard the roar.  

It wasn't Logan. This was deeper, louder, and unfathomably terrifying.  

"Oh, fuck! Fuckety, fuckety, fuck, fuck!" Wade yelled, before pointing at something just behind you. "The Hulk is in this?! Ah fuck, not again," Wade groaned, sounding resigned. 

"Shit," you breathed just before a giant green hand entered your field of vision and swatted Wade away like he was a fly.  

You took off running, all hell breaking loose as you caught sight of a girl with dark green hair wielding a power that reminded you a lot of Erik's. Between her and the Hulk, they were making quick work of keeping the team busy and their focus off Apocalypse.  

You searched the chaos unfolding before you and finally spotted your Logan. There was a red cloth wrapped around most of his face, but his claws gave away his identity. He was fighting the other Logan, both throwing themselves into the fight with a ferocity that terrified you.  

Jean had turned her attention on Apocalypse while Alex helped her with his plasma blasts. They were both being careful not to hit the other Jean and Scott and you knew both were fighting to ensure that Scott survived. Erik, Magik, and Rogue were fighting Lorna and Piotr, Remy, Wade, and Cable were all taking on the Hulk.  

You wanted to run to Logan and try to get him to remember. You wondered if you could break him of Apocalypse's spell, but you weren't even sure if it was possible. You had decided to try something, anything to get through to Logan, when you found yourself in the middle of a different fight.  

The Hulk let out another roar before pounding his fist on the ground, sending the others around him flying back with the impact. You weren't sure how, but you managed to snag his attention, and he advanced on you.  

"Y/N, run!" Wade yelled, but you were eager to get the entire fight finished so you could get Logan back. You formed a forcefield around Hulk, one of the biggest you had ever created. You could feel the stretch of the field as it entrapped him, and you were worried that it would simply end up snapping. He brought a fist up to pound on the side of the forcefield and you could feel it rattle you, practically shaking you with its force.  

The Hulk wouldn't die easy, but maybe if you could keep him contained for long enough, then the fight with Apocalypse could be won. All you had to do was subdue him and wait for Apocalypse to fall. 

In theory, it was a decent plan. In execution? You should have never taken your focus off of Logan.  

You were so focused on keeping the Hulk in your forcefield that when someone stepped in front of you, you didn't even register the threat at first. You only had a moment before you pulled in a breath and felt it cut off with a wheeze, agony blooming quick through your chest. Your forcefield dropped as you stared up into Logan's eyes, shock and fear warring within you.  

"Logan," you gasped, reaching up to grasp his wrist. Both sets of his claws were buried in your sides and you could feel them inch deeper with every attempted breath. You felt like you couldn't focus on one thought, but all you could see was the man you loved.  

"You're hurting me," you managed to choke out, the taste of blood slipping into your mouth. You coughed, crying out when that only made the pain worse. Red was spreading out across your shirt and soon enough you would be soaked with your own blood. You could hear Wade screaming your name and Hulk was barreling towards Cable and Logan didn't even realize he was killing you. All you could think was that once he regained control of his own mind, this would kill him.  

"It's okay," you got out on a shudder. You stopped gripping his wrist and instead brought your hands up to cup his face. It only brought you more pain, your full weight resting on his claws, but you knew a losing battle when you were faced with one. At least you could spend your final moments doing something you truly wanted to do. "You have to forgive yourself, alright? Because I forgive you." You were rapidly losing vision, the picture before you fading into a disorienting shade of grey before color flooded back in only to be snatched away again. "I love you," you whispered, blood starting to leak from the corner of your mouth. "I love you, Logan," you stressed before letting yourself fall forward just enough to brush a kiss against his lips.  

He pushed you back, adamantium slicing you deeper, and you cried out in agony.  

Recognition suddenly flooded Logan's eyes and you dropped to the ground when he quickly pulled his claws from you. "Oh God," he breathed, horror and guilt clouding his expression. "Y/N, I--" he only managed before Piotr tackled him to the ground.  

Logan was quick to throw him off before he was back at your side. He pressed a gentle hand to your side, before shaking his head. "Baby, I don't know what to do."  

Logan wasn't usually one for pet names, but he only brought them out for certain situations. You knew he must have really been scared, but you were having a hard time feeling anything at all. "It's okay," you told him just as Wade dropped to his knees at your other side. "It wasn't you. It wasn’t you," you assured him when he looked like he wanted to protest. 

"I wasn't even aware of what I was doing. It’s like he pulled a mask down over my face and I couldn’t see past it. He had me doing so much fucked up shit for him and I didn't even blink. And he wanted me to kill you, and I was gonna, but then I just couldn't." There were tears in Logan's eyes and he looked like he wanted to scoop you up into his arms, but he was too worried it would only hurt you more. "I don't even know how I broke out of it. God, I wish I'd done it sooner." Logan's hands were trembling as he cupped your face, managing to press a chaste kiss to your lips.  

"I know what pulled you out if," Wade chimed in, reaching out to grab your hand, despite Logan's snarl in his direction. "Wuv," he answered, "Twue wuv. God, where's Fred Savage when you need him?" 

You could feel your eyelids growing heavier and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open. "I just need to sleep," you mumbled, already feeling yourself begin to slip away. “Just let me rest my eyes.” 

"Wade," Logan said, looking to him in panic. "What do we do? I don’t know what to do here." 

Wade was silent for long enough that you started to realize you must be well and truly fucked. "I'll watch over her," Wade finally volunteered before nodding at the fight that had been carrying on around you. "And you go help them finish that fucker off for good." 

You managed to turn your head to the side to see Jean along with Erik and Illyana fighting Apocalypse. Logan gave a firm nod of his head before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I'm gonna make this right, sweetheart, okay? And you just hold on for me. You hold on and I’ll be back for you," he promised you, before you watched resolve fall over him.  

He turned away from you, letting loose a low growl, before he sprinted towards Apocalypse. You started losing moments in bits and pieces. Wade was gripping your hand so tight and you didn't have the heart to tell him you couldn't even feel it. The other Logan was getting thrown around by the Hulk while Piotr landed hits where he could and Remy distracted him with explosions. Alex was hovering over his brother, willing him to wake up. Rogue was pressing an uncovered hand to Lorna's neck, effectively draining her and knocking her out. Rogue then turned her attention towards Hulk, using Lorna’s stolen power to help Remy. 

And Logan, who was nearly feral in his rage, was bringing his claws relentlessly into Apocalypse's neck. Apocalypse had been weakened from the onslaught of Jean's full power combined with the others. Erik had taken a metal beam and impaled Apocalypse with it, nearly pinning him to the ground. Magik had managed to hit Apocalypse over and over again with her sword, leaving Apocalypse hurt enough that when Logan took one last swipe with his claws, letting out a howl of grief and fury, Apocalypse's head rolled back and fell to the ground.  

You managed to hold on long enough to see Logan turning to look for you, unhinged and wild, the brute Erik had always made him out to be. But the second he met your eyes, his expression softened and the love you had been missing flooded back onto his face.  

It was the last thing you saw before unconsciousness finally rushed in to carry you away.  

You woke to a steady beeping noise and the feeling of being suffocated. You opened your eyes, blinded by a bright white light, before you closed them again. You were sore and your mouth felt like it was full of cotton and you didn't remember how you got here.  

"On your left," Wade called, gaining your attention.  

You managed to open your eyes again, seeing Wade still outfitted in his full bloodied Deadpool getup sitting in the chair at your side.  

He let out a pleased snort and turned his full focus on you, carelessly throwing away the People magazine in his hand to the side.  

"I've always wanted to say that in this kind of situation, but no one ever really wants me at their bedside when they wake up. Can’t imagine why," he mused with a wistful sigh. 

You glanced from Wade to Laura sleeping on the couch against the wall. Something wasn’t quite right, you realized through the haze of painkillers. It took you entirely too long to figure out that Logan wasn't in the room.  

"You missed a lot while you were out," Wade continued, leaning forward in his chair to consider you. "But I guess several hours of life-saving surgery and numerous blood transfusions will take a lot out of someone. So, let me catch you up. The people your friend Magik brought here have all fucked back off to their universe. That other Logan said it was what you wanted, so he left with his pretend baby mama. Had a feeling there was some trouble in paradise for that particular couple, especially when Logan almost killed that other douchenozzle when he tried to get all weepy over you. Rogue and Gambit seem to have something going on now. You think correspondence across the multiverse is hard? Because they've got some shit to figure out. And Logan? Well, he's being a broody little bitch who thinks you don't love him anymore because he almost killed you."  

You weren't sure what to say, mind overloaded from information. You were relieved the other Logan and Jean were gone, but you were a bit sad you didn’t get to tell Illyana or your Erik goodbye. You were pretty sure they would forgive you, though, considering the near-death experience.  

"Where is he?" You croaked, wincing when you noticed how your throat felt like it had been scraped raw. 

"They only took out the breathing tube a little while ago,” Wade informed you. “And that idiot is somewhere around here," Wade answered, shrugging his shoulders. "He hasn't left the hospital since they brought you in, but he's also been reluctant to show his face around here. It’s not like his claws managed to snag on anything vital. That’s the only reason you’re alive, you know that? I’ve got a theory, though. I think the angry bear, despite how much he claims he can’t remember being a puppet, knew it was you he was trying to kill. I think he did what he could not to hurt you. If it was anyone else, they would’ve been dead long before they could try to kiss him."  

You knew Logan would never truly leave you, but he wasn’t going to concede easily. He was probably spending his time thinking he was a danger to you and convincing himself that it was best if he loved you from afar. He was likely already thinking of moving into an apartment across the hall and only seeing you when you needed help. 

You couldn’t have that. Not after everything fighting for him for so long. You needed Logan all the time and you would be damned if you let him slip away from you.  

It didn't take you long to make up your mind.  

"I need a favor," you told Wade, already struggling to sit up.  

Wade reached out, placing a hand on your lower back to help you. "I thought you'd see things my way." 

You rolled your eyes, an indescribable fondness welling within you for Wade. "I need a distraction so I can get out of here." 

"Leave it to us," Laura cut in, moving to get off the couch. You didn’t even notice her wake up. "And if you ever go off into a fight without me again, I'll kill you myself next time." 

"No, you won't," you pointed out, slowly raising your arms to beckon her into an embrace.  

Laura huffed out a laugh into your shoulder, her arms cautiously coming up to wrap around you. "He's just worried, you know. He thinks it's all his fault." 

"And I'll just have to convince him it's not," you easily replied, as if dealing with a stubborn Logan was ever easy.  

"Good," Laura responded with a smile.  

You held her by the shoulders, being careful not to aggravate your injuries, and simply took her in for a moment. You hadn't been lying when you told the other Logan Laura was your daughter. It might not have been through any conventional means, but she sure as hell was your kid now. And you were so fiercely proud of her and you loved her so much that just looking at her felt like you were lighting up inside.  

"Love you, kid," you told her, pouring in all your affection for her into the words.  

"I'm not a kid," Laura refuted with a shake of her head, but the smile on her face returned the love you felt for her.  

"Yeah, yeah, you're a grown teenager," Wade dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You going to get the angry bear or not, baby bird? Because clock’s ticking and the longer you let him brood, the longer it’ll take to pull him out of it." 

"Yeah," you allowed with a nod of your head, turning a grin on Wade. He was your best friend and so much more to you. He was your family, your confidant, your protector, and your savior. You figured as long as you had Wade, Laura, and Logan, you would always be home. Now, you had two of them, so you just had to go track down the last one to make the set complete.  

Wade clapped his hands together, shooting an expectant look at Laura. "Then let's get ready to cause one hell of a distraction, munchkin." 

Wade's idea of a distraction entailed flirting with a nurse while Laura set a fire in the break room. As the fire alarm rang, you slipped out of your room once you had managed to get dressed in the clothes Laura had left for you. Your sides ached and you felt like you couldn't pull in a full breath, but you reasoned it was a lot preferable to the death you had been prepared to endure.  

It didn't take you long to find him. Logan might have thought he was hiding, but a waiting room just down the hall wasn't exactly subtle. The fire alarm had drawn enough attention that the room was empty save for him.  

"Hey," you whispered, watching him from the doorway.  

He was leaning forward in his seat, his elbows on his knees and hands hanging in front of him. His head was bowed, and it took him a few seconds after you spoke to finally look at you.  

"You shouldn't be out here," he protested, making to get up.  

You shook your head, crossing the room until you could cautiously lower yourself into the seat next to him. He gave you an exasperated sigh, shaking his head.  

"I take it the fire alarm was Wade? Should've known you'd be stubborn about it," he grumbled. 

"About what? About you trying to keep your distance because you think you're to blame?" 

"I am to blame," Logan snarled, his hands shaking in front of him. Logan clasped them together tightly enough that he was starting to draw blood and you could see the way his shoulders tensed. You knew he wasn't angry with you, his fury focused on himself, but you didn’t want him to hurt himself over something completely out of his control. "I'm the one who hurt you. It was my claws that did the damage." 

"No, Logan," you argued, wanting so badly to reach out, but not sure if you were welcome to touch him. "It wasn't you. It was all Apocalypse. I know you would never hurt me. Not willingly," you amended when he shot you a doubtful look. "The second you snapped out of it, you tried to take care of me. That wasn't you, Logan, and I would never hold that against you." 

"You should," he muttered, turning his head away to stare down at his hands.  

"The only reason you went with Apocalypse was to save me," you reminded him. "If I had been stronger, if I hadn't been so distracted--" 

"Don’t do that," Logan denied, turning an incredulous stare on you. "You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. The shit you go through and you're still able to pull yourself back up and keep fighting. You've never surrendered to it the way most people would have." 

"I did once," you admitted with a grimace. "In Nathaniel's world that he built for me. But that's because I lost you and Laura and Wade. I can't do any of this without you." You knew you had a darkness in you, fed by years of pain and abandonment. But your family, especially Logan, was the light that broke through it. As long as you had them, you would never lose your way, because they would be there to guide you home.  

"That wasn't real," Logan pointed out. "There's no way in hell I'd ever leave you like that." 

"Yeah? You seem to be trying your best to right now. Or else what are you doing in this fucking waiting room and not with me where I need you?" 

Logan tried to look away, but you took your chance and tucked your fingers under his chin, pulling his gaze back to you.  

"There's nowhere you can go that I won't chase you down. You did it for me with Sinister and I did it for you with Apocalypse. If I have to, I will spend the rest of my life telling you that what happened to me wasn't your fault, because I love, you idiot. I love you more than anything and there's no me without you, don't you get that? It's always been you. It's always going to be you." 

Logan pulled in a shaky breath. Understanding was beginning to dawn on his face and you decided to go for broke.  

"Take me home, Logan," you pleaded, pulling your touch away from him. “Take me back to our home.”  

Astonishment flashed across his face. "You shouldn't want to go anywhere with me." 

You reached out to grab his hand, pulling it towards you. You placed a kiss to his knuckles, where his claws would spring free in heat of battle. You heard Logan's breath hitch, terrified, as a guarded hope overwrote his expression.  

 “I know what I want and it’s always going to be you.” You didn’t know how to tell Logan that you wanted everything with him. The good and the bad and the deadly and the fun. You wanted to build a home with him and Laura. You wanted to coerce Laura to take college classes after completing her GED and you wanted to watch her grow up without having to worry about her survival at every turn. You wanted to have Vanessa and Wade over for dinner and you wanted to fill the spaces of your home with love and laughter and family and friendship. You wanted to end each day with Logan only to begin the next one with him as well. You only wanted what you had been fighting for all along. 

Logan, at your side, and forever yours.   

"Logan Howlett, I will gladly spend the rest of my life with you. No matter how short or how long that might be for me. I want you to occupy all the rest of my moments. You’re it for me and the rest of my life is yours if you’ll have it," you told him, letting your fingers lace through his so you could hold on tight to his hand. You could feel your pulse fluttering and your heart pick up its beat, because while you were confident that Logan loved you with the same intensity you felt, you knew he had a self-sacrificing streak a mile wide. Logan would run if he thought it would save you, but you would never let him slip right out of your hold again.  

After what felt like an eternity, Logan snorted, the sound half-amused and wholly confused. "You proposing or something?" There was a brief flare of hope in his eyes, but you knew he assumed you were joking.  

"Yeah," you replied, dead serious. "I'd get down on one knee, but you'd just have to help me back up off the floor, and I can't spare that kind of dignity right now. Not until I've got an answer." 

Logan watched you for another long moment, as if trying to assess the sincerity of your words. Finally, he squeezed your hand, nodding his head in answer. "Alright, then," he conceded with a barely-there smile that betrayed just how pleased he was feeling. "Let's get married." 

You tugged Logan into a kiss, savoring the reminder of his taste and touch, when you were startled by the sound of someone clapping. Logan groaned, resting his forehead against yours, and met your eyes.  

"Think we can disinvite Wade from the wedding?" 

"You kidding? You can't leave me without a maid of honor." 

You looked over to see Laura and Wade watching the pair of you from the doorway. It looked like Laura had managed to singe the ends of her hair with her distraction.  

“You wanna celebrate with us or what?” You asked, already wondering how soon you could be released from the hospital so you could go home with your favorite people.  

You met Logan’s gaze and from the warm smile on his face, you knew he was thinking the same thing. 

Laura threw herself at the pair of you as Wade kept clapping. He heaved a sigh, placing a hand to his chest. "God, I love a happy ending."  Author's Note: This has been such a wild ride and I can't thank y'all enough for going on it with me. There will (hopefully) be a sequel eventually. I want to bring in Venom along with bringing back Peter Parker, Wanda and Pietro, and probably Rogue and Magik. Maybe even Bucky. My next fic will be my Wade/Reader/Logan one, though, which also involves some past Johnny Storm/Reader. If you want to be tagged in the new fic, just let me know!

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[bagdaddyb]

Hi!! Oh my gosh seeing you posting again was such a huge joy and surprise for me I’m so glad to read your new work!!!

I was wondering if you could write a wanda maximoff x fem!reader ABO fic where either Wanda or reader are new to the team with a whole bunch of pining where they eventually figure out that they are each others mate? You can make either Wanda or reader alpha/omega!

It’s super okay if you aren’t feeling this request, either way I’m so excited to read more of the amazing work you share with us!!!

Hiiiii! So I got super carried away with this and I originally intended for this to be mean emo Wanda but sweet soft Wanda took over, I hope you enjoy! 💗

Pairing: alphag!p Wanda x omega fem! spyReader

Warning: Sickeningly Sweet, 18+ MINOR DNI NSFW NSFW

AN: Wanda 🥰

You'd only been on the team for a year when the mess with Ultron happened. It all happened so fast, you could barely process everything happening around you before something new would arise. Sitting across from Natasha sipping coffee as you spied on the twin alphas you felt the most relaxed you had in weeks. Natasha kept glancing their way while your focus stayed on her, two people staring was more suspicious than one. You and the red head proved to be a good team over the past year. Two omega spies flying under everyones radar. The world still assumed the Black Widow a one woman show and no one would ever believe her to be an omega. The breeze felt nice on your back, bringing a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear before looking down at your coffee.

"This has been a real shit show eh?"

Your voice held a familiar accent one you'd grown used to using under your many aliases. Natasha's eyes returned to you as she sipped her own drink.

"Not anymore than usual."

You hummed in response eyes wondering to the innocent civilians around you. Sipping your own cup you wonder if life would be better among them. Oblivious to the realities of the world to caught up in your own day to day menial task. The weight of this job seemed to weigh a bit heavier on your shoulders everyday, the question of wether the people you save amounts to the people you don't plaguing.

"S toboy vse v poryadke?" (Are you alright?)

The red head ask and you nod eyes returning to hers.

"Tired, it seems everytime we try to relax something detrimental in the world happens. I wonder what it would do without us."

A small chuckle escapes Natasha despite the truth in your words, her eyes shooting to the pair on her right once more. Though not a 'graduate' of the red room you hold your own tramatic story. Experimented on in the basement of Oscorp for years you'd been turned into a lab rat by the corpo bastards that owned the building. You'd escaped only three years ago, changed. Transformed into a human machiene, non-aging, ridiculously strong with a sirens song. You did the only thing you could and played the cards you were delt. Seducing mediocre alphas out of millions before any one even got a whiff of your existence but you could truly only thank Natasha for that. It wasn't until Natasha was taken down but the Black Widow kept striking that shield realized there was more than met the eye. It was Tony himself that went undercover to catch you and honestly had he not been an Avenger with intel he would of ended up caught himself. Another rich egotistical alpha who thought himself on top of the world. You didn't go down easy and spent a week in a cell before even uttering a word. In retrospect it all seems silly now you often think about how much time you wasted fighting the people who wanted nothing more than to help you. Eyes lifting to Natasha's face you can't help but feel greatful for the opportunity she's given you to help others like you.

"They're on the move."

You hum in acknowledgment before finishing off your drink mind finally wondering to the matter at hand. Your mission was recruitment nothing more. Ultron having been made unreasonably strong by the twins he somehow came to be in alliance with. You'd gained enough information merely listening in on their conversation, so you and Natasha retreated returning to the group in order to solidify your advances. Standing in time with Natasha you link your arm in hers smiling before chatting away about absolutely nothing in russian. Missing the way a certain alpha glanced your way when your scent drifted down wind. It only took twenty four hours for everything to go to shit almost a record breaker in your books. Ultron whineded up to be nothing after the male alpha was nere fatally injured the red headed woman taking care of him like clockwork. Luckily your team stood nearby able to quickly extract the alpha towards safety and medical attention. You worked efficiently getting him secured before moving to help the rest of your team fight off Ultron's bots and it isn't until the end when you stand with the support of Thor that you realize the red headed alpha had come with you. Returning to the compound there is tension on the quinjet. The group unsure what to do with the twin alphas who quite literally just tried to murder them and it causes you to roll your eyes.

"You could at least not talk about them as if they aren't right there."

You scold before moving towards the pair. The red head having been unmoving crouched over her unconscious brother.

"Privet." (Hello.)

You say making yourself known as you approach the alpha causing her to glance up at you.

"On dolzhen polnost'yu vyzdorovet'." (He should make a full recovery.)

You speak in a whisper trying to be soft.

"YA uveren, chto on ne khotel by, chtoby vy bespokoilis'." (I'm sure he wouldn't want you to worry.)

The woman merely returns her eyes to the unconscious man below her.

"Will you lock us up? Treat us once again like dogs?"

Your eyebrows raise and your posture straightens.

"No of course not, everyone deserves a second chance. You believed you were fighting for the right thing, there are many on this team who have been in a similar circumstance. Do not believe simply because we are labeled supergeroi that none of us have a dark past." (Superheroes)

With that you take your leave allowing the woman to be with her loved one. Upon returning to the compound you go into seclusion, you needed a break both mentally and physically. Just a few days where the world wasn't ending and it was entirely up to you to save it. Six days later you emerge slightly re-energized and fresh ready for the next catastrophe. The first place you visit is the gym already hearing Natasha's scolding on breaking your routine as you pass the common room you see the two twins on the couch alone. In this light you see them both clearly, while they hold the title twin they couldn't look more different. You study them both your eyes lingering on the red head. She was an attractive alpha, very attractive. You hear the tv playing but don't recognize the program they have on. Detouring into the room you catch their attention waving as you approach.

"Hello, I am rather embarrassed to say we never formally met. I am (Y/N) nice to meet you both."

You bow your head in greeting sending them a bright smile and both of them seem to freeze obviously caught off guard by your friendly approach. The male recovers first standing up before bowing his head back and sticking out his hand.

"Pietro, and that is my sestra Wanda."

You recognize his accent reaching to grip his hand in yours.

"A pleasure, I hope you two are adjusting well."

It isn't until then his sister jumps up a slight flush on her cheeks.

"It has been familiar, we are rather alienated but that is how it has always been."

You hum in response fighting back the disappointment in your expression.

"Don't fret, we are a group of antisocial extroverts forced to be in a group setting. Well expect for Tony but it just takes us all time to engage and meet new people, they will come around before long."

You finish with a smile.

"Have you two at least been taken care of? Food, water, lodging?"

They nod simultaneously and its enough for you.

"Good well I'm off to the gym, don't be strangers."

With that you leave not taking note of the full face flush on the woman's face.

"Kto-nibud' nashel svoyu sestru-omegu?" (Has someone found their omega sister?)

Pietro says in a teasing tone and Wanda punches him in the shoulder muttering at him to shut up. The moment you cross the threshold of the gym you flinch.

"Nu posmotrite, kto eto." (Well look who it is.)

"Can we skip past the part where you scold me so I can just apologize?"

You ask turning to meet Natasha's sharp gaze.

"Will your muscles magically regain their mass?"

"No."

You sigh accepting your defeat beginning to stretch as Natasha begins her speech on commitment. It is another four days before everyone finally comes around to the twins slotting them in as if theyed been there since the beginning just as they had you. Walking towards the gym you release a content sigh, a full ten days since the world seemed as though it'd collapse. What bliss. Quickly looking up your eyes fantically search for some wood unwilling to risk jinxing yourself.

"Dobroye utro." (Good morning.")

You hear from behind turning to be greeted by Wanda.

"Good morning indeed. Off for your morning cuppa are you?"

You ask and Wanda merely nods in response fighting back a yawn.

"Not a morning person?"

You ask with a smile walking beside Wanda.

"Not at all."

She says somewhat grumpily.

"Then what are you doing up at six a.m?"

You ask with a laugh and Wanda has to fight back a blush. She couldn't admit that she woke up at this time merely to see you every morning but what could she say.

"I like to cook but I'm not very good at it.... so I practice early before the others wake up."

The words spill out of her mouth quickly unable to think of anything better and you beam your white smile at her.

"Well how about tomorrow you sleep in till eight then I can help you learn, I am an amazing cook. I even know how to make some traditional dishes."

Wanda can't help the flush that comes to her face this time and it makes you feel a tingle inside.

"Okay."

The red head responds and you nod giving her arm a little reassuring squeeze as you come upon the kitchen.

"Good luck dorogoy." (Dear)

You say before continuing onto the gym and Wanda is sure her face matches her hair. Sure enough the next morning Wanda doesn't head towards the kitchen instead she spends the morning pacing her room anxiety ridden. You'd said for her to sleep in but how could she when you agreed to spend alone time with her. She couldn't tell Pietro and deal with his repeated teasing so she kept the information in slowly but surely having a meltdown. As she paced she played with her hair, bit her finger, twiddled her thumbs. God she couldn't do this. She'd literally been an experiment for Hydra and never felt this nervous in her life. The time passed quickly. To quickly. Right as she truly began to spiral there was a knock at her door, eyes shooting to the clock she realizes its already eight o'clock. Brushing off her clothes quickly before taking a few deep breaths and recuperating she opens her door. The moment her eyes land on you it all seems for naught, your hair is tied back. You wear tights and a tshirt covered by an apron. Your eyes spakle matched by your bright smile and Wanda feels herself melt a bit.

"I figured you'd meet me in the kukhnya." (Kitchen)

You say with a giggle and Wanda becomes a tomato realizing its not only eight but eight eleven.

"I'm sorry I slept in and lost all track of time."

You hum with a smile clearly not mad at all before turning to be on your way.

"All is fine I just didn't want to start without you."

Wanda follows behind you closing her door quickly. Her eyes wonder your body not being able to help staring at your ass.

"Ty slushayesh'?" (Are you listening?)

Wanda's eyes shoot up attention back on your voice.

"I asked what your favorite dish is."

"Oh um I love traditional pirozhki, my mother used to make them just slightly burnt at the edges. The taste reminds me of home."

You turn and smile softly her way.

"Perfect then that's what we will make, cooking can seem overwhelming but it isn't as scary as many think. I always recommend learning to cook for yourself first because it is much easier than cooking for others."

In the kitchen you gather the suppiles, you cooked often so the ingredients for this dish were easily found.

"I'll have you make the dough, it is all simply measurements so I'll do no more than verbal instructions."

You say as you prepare the area for Wanda.

"Here put this on, gotta protect your clothes and tie your hair back no one wants hair in their food."

Handing the apron to Wanda while standing by waiting. You bite your lip as you watch her. Running her fingers through silky red locks before pulling it up exposing her neck to you. She wore grey sweatpants and a baggy t. The sweatpants doing little to hide the member between her legs and you press your thighs together pleasurably. Wanda on the other hand was trying to think about how to see this lie through. She was an amazing cook, taking the responsibility of her brother from a young age. How was she going to play clueless. She should of at least said a dish she truly wasn't aware of how to make but when you asked her favortie food she couldn't help but answer honestly. You talked Wanda through the steps praising her for being a natural when the dough came out well. Leaving it to make the filling.

"What did your mom fill hers with? I do a simple meat and rice mixture since it goes along with my bulk."

Wanda nods along as she listens debating a moment before responding.

"Lets make them like yours, I've never had them any other way and I'd be eager to try."

You smile brightly at the alpha before nodding in response. Again you talk her through it always believing hands on with clear instruction was the best way to learn any skill. It gave the student mutiple ways to intake the information and made it harder to forget. Once the process is complete you help Wanda cut and stuff the dough, this part of the process being the longest and most tedious. You leave her to fry them as she likes since she'd mentioned her mom let them cook a bit longer and instead move to clean around her. Never a fan of a messy workspace. You hum as you clean, mindlessly really. It seems a tune that always floats around you. One Wanda is sure she's heard you hum before. By the time Wanda is done cooking you've cleaned the kitchen and are able to sit down and enjoy the meal with her. Of course the moment doesn't last and before either of you can even take a bite the smell of food draws in hungry Avengers.

"Mne vsegda nravitsya, kogda ty gotovish'." (I always love when you cook.)

Natasha says entering first, the smell of traditional food equivalent to a cat with its automatic feeder. Steve, Bruce, Tony, and Sam all slowly trickle in after stomachs growling audibly making you laugh.

"I suppose if I didn't cook every once in a while no one would eat around here hmmm?"

The group shares a laugh as they line up one by one to make plates.

"But in all honesty this meal is thanks to Wanda not me, I merely talked her through the steps."

Wanda can't hide the pink that dust her cheeks and all is going well until a certain twin walks in.

"Pirozhki! You always cook the best food sestra."

The blonde kisses his sisters head as he passes by and you can't help the eyebrow that raises in response.

"Always hmmm?"

You hum and Wanda is saved by the entrance of Thor who could of eaten the entire helping had he got here first.

"Mighty (Y/N) your meals are always most invigorating."

You smile at the God and try not laugh when you see his downcast face once he realizes he is the last one to show. Wiping your face after you finish you excuse yourself it was already nearing noon and you still hadn't even looked at the moutain of paperwork on your desk. Wanda watches you go. Over the next three weeks you and Wanda grow closer she begins training with you and Natasha in the mornings and you read with her sometimes in the afternoons, you don't question her about Pietro's comment after your cooking fiasco and Wanda never says anything about it because that woukd mean admitting to you that she was desperate to spend time with you.

"Soo?"

Natasha ask as the two of you jog around the gardens. It was early afternoon in fall, the cool winds combating your rising body heat making the jog enjoyable.

"Nothing."

"Yebat' will she ever make a move?" (Fuck)

You merely shrug.

"I don't know, I'll start showing signs of heat by the end of the week if that doesn't trigger her there's no hope."

Natasha laughs at that.

"Tak khochetsya al'fu, da?" (So eager for an alpha eh?)

"Not just any alpha, Wanda."

The week passes slowly and as the weekend gets closer your pheromones get stronger. The team knew your heat was approaching as they kept a calander for the Alphas so they could know when to distance, well everyone except Wanda apparently. Its Thursday night by the time she's had enough of your distance and decides to ask why you aren't at the table for dinner with the rest of the team.

"Where's (Y/N), I swear I haven't seen her all week."

Natasha sends a small smirk Wanda's way before Steve speaks up.

"Her heat is approaching so she is keeping extra distance for everyones saftey, she should come back around a week or so from today."

Pink hue coats Wanda's cheeks as the thought of you in heat takes over her mind and the pink only gets darker as her hard on begins to form in her pants. Her mind plummets into thoughts about your slick, and body. Thoughts about filling you with her seed and you being full with her pups causes her to be embarrassed by how hard she's become. If not for the table her bulge would be hard to miss. Wanda remains in a fog for the rest of dinner try as she might she couldn't get her mind off mating you and as everyone stands to part ways she remains seated making the excuse that she'd clean up the kitchen. Wanda strained painfully against her pants she could almost smell you now.

Rubbing your sides you walk towards the kitchen dinner should be over by now and you're starving. You need to get as many calories in as you can before you succumb to your heat tomorrow. The pain was slowly starting to set in and you'd be lying if you said you were looking foreward to the next seven days. You let out a groan as you turn the corner a sudden sharp pain stabbing your side. As you enter the threshold of the kitchen goosebumps rise on your skin the familiar smell of Wanda infultrating your nose before your eyes lock with the alphas. You're almost sure you see Wanda begin to tremble but you quickly begin to back away.

"I'm sorry I thought everyone would be gone by now."

You go to retreat from the kitchen and Wanda stands so quickly her chair falls behind her. In a second she's in your face grabbing you softly by the jaw making you look at her.

"Omega."

She whispers as she sniffs at you rubbing her nose against your cheek before falling to your scent gland.

"Mate."

She whispers again and you chirp. Your omega finally satisfied being acknowledged by your alpha. For a few minutes nothing happens, the two of you stand there relishing eachothers presence. You chirp at her as she lightly growls at you and you feel satisfied, whole even. Then you are painfully reminded of your situation causing you to sharply intake air and groan. Wanda growls louder at the noise of your distress and you whimper.

"It hurts."

Wanda's grip on your jaw becomes tighter, pushing you into the wall before pressing her own body against yours.

"Tell me where it hurts, I'll take care you shchenok." (Puppy)

You groan again, your heat suddenly over taking your senses as a result of having your mate so close. Your hands raise to grip Wanda's arms tightly, nails digging into her skin through the fabric of her shirt.

"Need you, please. Alpha. Mate."

Your words come out as little whimpers. Your panting, you don't know why but suddenly you can't get enough air for full breaths. So caught up in Wanda you don't even process you're about to be mated in the tower kitchen but honestly you don't care either. Wanda however does she feels territorial, primal even. She needs you to herself, needs privacy with you. She'd attack anyone who might see your bare body if she mated you here. Her room was on the other side of the compound, the alpha side far from the omegas and living area but your room was just down the hall. Wanda releases your jaw hands moving down your body till she reaches the back of your thigh. You bite your lip enjoying the electricity you felt from her touch. As she picks you up you wrap your legs around her torso tightly. Her hands against your thighs causing your sex to tingle. You wrap one hand around her neck before running the other through soft red hair. You return to chirping at her, the feeling of finding your mate an overwhelmingly happy one. You rub your cheek against hers softly and the alpha lightly growls in acknowledgment. You are consumed by Wanda's presence unable to focus on anything but her. When she lays you lightly on your bed you aren't even sure where you are, you just know you're there with her. Wanda bends over you, tucking her nose into your scent gland once more and growling loudly. She needs you, needs you marked, claimed. Needs everyone to know you belong to her.

"Mate."

The word is once again a whisper but you hear it all the same. The time to romantically strip you would have to be later gripping opposite sides of the loose shirt you wore the alpha literally tears the cloth off of you exposing your bra cladded torso to her. Your breathing speeds up the intimacy of the moment undeniable as you feel Wanda begin to run her lips down your body. It was like electric shock, the currents Wanda's touch sent through your body. She magiced your bra away completely exposing your upper half and growling as her soft lips wrapped around your nipple. You moan loudly in response, it felt good too good. You could get lost in this sensation alone.

"Mine."

Wanda growls against your skin before moving along to your other nipple. Your hands grip at Wanda through her clothes before you whimper.

"Need to feel you alpha."

Wanda growls in response, her eyes glowing red as she magics away her own clothing her skin now pressing against yours. She moves back up your body mouth hovering close before she lays claim to your own. The kiss is magical, the locking of your lips causing what you could only descibe as bliss throughout your whole body. You felt like you were glowing arms and legs wrapping around the alpha tightly you were sure this must be heaven. Wanda began to grind against you through the fabric of your pants, your underwear gliding against your excessive amount of slick. You blush, embarrassed by how wet you truly are from so little foreplay but the feeling doesnt last long when Wanda growls above you. Wanda pulls your pants off your waist guiding them down your thighs just enough to expose your slick and shudders when the smell of you tingles her nostrils. She's overcome with the need to knot you, breed you as she makes her mark on your neck. But she also feels the feral need to take you, to have your slick dripping down her chin as she causes you to come apart on her tongue. Starting with the latter she pulls your pants off quickly. Breaking away from your lips to slowly kiss down your body. You take a long gasp of air eyes dialating as you watch Wanda work her way down. Your hips begin to twitch unable to stay still at the excitement of what was about to come. Wanda's hands move to firmly grip your waist holding you in place as she kisses your stomach moving lower and lower your stomach muscles flex, a wave of arousal flowing through you. When she reaches her destination her hands move to your thighs lifting them up to hold you wide open for her. You're leaking, literally and Wanda can't wait to have a taste. She dives in slurping up the excess before moving to your center. Sucking on your clit then tongue fucking you like a woman starved. Your slick quenches a thirst Wanda didn't even know she had tongue lapping at your clit before quickly moving towards your hole eager to drink up the slick as a result. It doesn't take long and under normal circumstances you're sure you would of been embarrassed but none of that matters when your muscles spasm. Back arching in the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced, your thighs shake, eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream. Wanda doesn't stop eagerly drinking up your orgasm before wanting, no needing you to do that again. You whimper in overstimulation but don't stop your alpha, just as turned on by her need for you. You squirm against the red heads mouth a little towards her a little away, this time you last longer if only for your slight sensitivity causing time before the feeling was pleasurable again yet you cum all the same. Wanda moans loudly as you release into her mouth again. She could do this all day she's sure of it. But now as her precum begins to soak her boxers she knows its time. Lifting onto her knees between your legs red eyes glow as her pants disappear and through your haze you see her in all her glory. You reach down gripping her in your hand moaning at the size while she moans at the sensation. You pump her, an overwhelming feeling to suck her down your through the way she'd done you comes over you but Wanda quickly grabs your hand removing you from her.

"You're going to make me bust shchenok." (Puppy)

Wanda hesitates a second if only to allow her own incoming orgasm to subside, she needed to bury herself in you and it wouldn't look good for her if it ended just as quickly as it started. In the meantime she leans down over you meeting your lips in a hungry kiss the taste of you on her lips causing another wave of your own slick to pool between your legs. You push at her lower back willing her to enter you but she resist. Kissing you eagerly before breaking to kiss to move towards your scent gland, you pant quickly. Wanda's kiss having stolen all the air from your lungs.

"Mine."

Wanda whispers against you, hips beginning to grind against your slick in order to lubricate herself. You shudder in response.

"Yours alpha, take me. I want to be yours."

Wanda reaches down gripping herself in order to slowly slide into you. She's thick stretching you out in ways only she can, the burn sends waves through you and by the time she's completely sheathed you're a whimpering mess.

"Yebat' you're so tight." (Fuck)

She pulls out only to slam back into you, her pace is brutal, hips slamming against yours hitting a sweet spot you didn't even know you had repeatedly. Your moans are as loud as the sound of your wet slick sucking Wanda back in. You claw at her wanting her impossibly closer as she fucked you into next week.

"Holy fuck I'm cumming. Alpha. Alpha."

Your eyes roll back as you arch. The orgasm makes you see white and Wanda doesnt stop. You squirting fueling her ego.

"That's right shchenok. You love the way your alpha fucks you, love how deep I am in you. Look shchenok can you see me."

Wanda brings your gaze down the visible bulge in your stomach when the alpha bottoms out causing your stomach to tighten.

"I'm right here."

Wanda says as she pushes down on the bulge and you spasm again another light orgasm washing through you.

"Fuck I'm gonna fill you up, get you pregnant with my pup."

Wanda pumps into you harder, her knot slamming against your entrance as she nears her own release.

"Alpha. Alpha."

You whimper to fucked out to form any other words.

"You're gonna look so pretty swollen with my seed all mine."

You moan again as Wanda bends towards your scent gland the feel of her canines against your neck enough to almost send you over the edge. She sinks her teeth into you right as you hear a pop. Her knot having settled inside you easily combined with the blackout orgasm of your mating bite. When you come to Wanda is still knotted deep inside you. Nuzzling at your cheeks with a low growl. You chirp back to weak to do much else and Wanda hums.

"My mate, my omega."

10 months later.

You were exhausted, to say the least. A new born was a lot of work and a lot of lost sleep. Wanda wasn't here, literally dragged away for a debrief she was required to attend. If you were honest you didn't mind, she'd been slightly smothering you since you gave birth and while you loved her for it just because you gave birth didn't mean you were no longer a functioning adult. You'd been picking petty arguments since your third trimester which you always felt bad for. It was the hormones combined with being put on bedrest so you didn't get to do your job combined with sexual frustration since the doctor said it was no longer safe for intercourse. You sighed as you stepped out of the shower, now with the added insecurities about the changes in your body since pregnancy and child birth you weren't sure you even wanted Wanda to touch you. Ignoring the mirror you dry yourself before wrapping a towel around you. Exiting the bathroom right as your little baby boy woke up with soft cries. You coo at him lifting him out of his crib you lose your towel throwing it over the side in order to hold your baby against your bare chest. You were barely one month postpartum but glad to be past the part where you were in a sense literally wearing a human diaper. Your son instantly calms at the sound of your heart beat as you bounce him lightly moving to sit in your bed you lean against the headboard letting out slightly pained noises as you try and relax your overworked back. You cover your lower half with the blanket already feeling the chill of the room as you begin to hum at your son. You don't hear the door open to focused to the little boy in your arms, getting comfortable as you move him to breast feed. You hiss as he begins to work at your sore nipple but eventually relax becoming accustomed to the pain. You rub his little head of hair softly smiling at him a fullness in your heart only created by the birth of your child as Wanda makes her pressence known.

"You're so beautiful dorogaya." (Dearheart)

You bite back your own insecurities at her comment humming in response. Looking up you meet Wanda's piercing eyes before meeting her lips in a kiss.

"I mean it dorogaya or have you forgotten I can hear your thoughts."

You can't help but frown not used to not being able to keep secrets.

"But...."

"Ah ah ah no buts, you're even more beautiful now than the day we met. Pregnancy and childbirth has given you a glow nothing else can."

You sigh a familiar warmth filling your chest in response to Wanda's love.

"YA tebya lyublyu." (I love you)

You whisper your free hand coming to rub against Wanda's cheek.

"I ya lyublyu tebya. Forever and always." (And I love you)

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Word Count: 917

*Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, non/con, dub/con, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death, murder conviction, parental dominance, trafficking

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnkinkbb -DeanJohnSam @anyfandomdarkbingo -Free Space

A/N: UPDATED 3/24

A/N II: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

GIF by 1x20

PART III

Sam found himself in the warehouse's back area that had been altered, now a mixture of original storage on the left and prefabricated rooms to the right, with the loading dock straight ahead, where his wolf was leading him. The scent of home was strongly intermingling with blood where cursing and bodies impacting each other were echoing down the hallway, drawing Sam in.

A quick look-see around an open door revealed fluorescents bathing everything in washed-out colors: a very pretty, weeping, leashed O kneeling next to an expensively attired Alpha, passively observing two other Alphas engaged in a fight when one abruptly spun, spraying blood across the back walls not far from another lying in a pool of their blood on the floor. Enraged, the remaining Alpha redoubled their efforts to restrain a naked, blood-covered female who was, holy fuck, an O! 

Sam watches, astonished that, while tiring, the O wasn't giving up when another Alpha wielding a blackjack shoves him out of the way, bludgeoning and knocking her to the floor, repeatedly striking to ensure she stayed down grabbed her collar and dragged the dazed O towards a line of heavy-duty dog crates stuffing her in one. While blackjack hauled out the bodies, the banged-up Alpha grabbed a hose washing blood down the floor drain, then turned it on the caged O when Sam’s brother rushed in, grabbing him.

“Sammy! What the fucks the matter with you!” Dean, visibly distraught, dragged him down the hallway, flashbacks to when Sam disappeared for two weeks after turning sixteen on his watch and when their Alpha returned, his atrocious reaction. “You promised me you’d never disappear like that again!”  Right now, Dean wishes Sam was still unpresented and could discipline him when John, appearing relieved, quickly reverted to norms. “Sam, you ever do that again,” admonished his pup in a tight voice. He wasn’t expecting Sam’s I found the O response questions, “What are you talking about?” Sam pointed towards the room and exclaimed, “She killed two Alphas!” 

“Are you sure it was an O?” John sounded doubtful when the palatable taste of the blood and the scent that led Sam back here hit him, making his wolf jolt at his overloaded senses and his canines elongate. John wrestled back control to his hunter intellect when his eldest growled, bolted back down the hallway, followed by Sam on his heels, and yelled, “Dean! Sam! Get your asses back here!”  

Helms appears out of nowhere and sees Dean arguing with the suited Alpha. “Winchester, you have no right to be back here!” The suit stops arguing with Dean and turns on the Dealer. “You think you can sell me misrepresented goods, Helms?” Pointing to the cage rages, “I paid you an exorbitant price for twins. But you lied! Look at that thing!!” John peers back at the cage and sees the leashed O reaching into a wire cage, shaking the other one’s arm as Sam knelt next to her and, oh, holy shit, laid a hand on her shoulder. 

John rushed over before the suit realized the young Alpha was touching their newly acquired property. “Step away from them, Sam.” Sam reluctantly got up as John squatted down to inspect them. The caged one curled up in a fetal position is larger than her sibling, but one can still see her full, pink lips and cinnamon-freckled skin, and she smells nothing like the other. Helms thought he could pass off these O’s as twins? No wonder the suit is pissed. The O whimpers, opening her uninjured, fox-tilted eye to reveal the iris’s unusual mosaic, and upon seeing Sam, a faint ring of gold manifests, and his wolf reciprocates.

John knew only one thing could override rut suppressants snapped, “Dean, get Sam out of here this instant!”  Dean comes over, green eyes widening, and doubles-over groans out, “Sonuvabitch!”

 “Dean! I gave you an order!” 

Dean hobbled to his dazed brother, “Come on, Sammy!” They stagger for the door, using each other as a counterbalance. John returned his attention to the suit, still arguing with Helms about some contractual blah blah blah, felt a touch on his leg peers down at the O, whispering, “Alpha, please don’t let them kill her!” 

John watches the caged one reach a shaking hand through the bars, stroking the other’s arm comfortingly. She has strong protective instincts, like Dean when Sam has one of his nightmares. John’s thoughts are interrupted by the suit hollers. “Hey! What the fuck you are doing over there?” 

The suit stomps over, and John’s hackles go up, expecting an altercation. Instead, they take the O’s leash, leading her across the room to tether her to the doorknob before addressing him. “I understand you need an O to keep your son out of jail, so I’ll make you a deal. You can have that thing,” they point to the cage, “for a dollar. Save me the effort of getting rid of it.”

“You can’t make side deals in my establishment!” Helms screeched. The suit uses their status to dominate the Beta Dealer. “You lied about the product, and since I’ve signed all the contracts and a deal being a deal, as you keep pointing out, I can do whatever I want with my property.” The suit addresses John again, “Are you interested or not?” John gazes at the now unconscious caged O, then back to her twin, whose eyes plead for help.

“You have a deal.”

Part IV

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva  @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67  @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine  @ladysparkles78  @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm   @strawblueberrys

[indierpgnewsletter]

New Itch Games for April & May

Been quiet on here but I'm back now!

It’s the itch.io round-up of new games! Now coming to you once every two months because that sounds easier. Usual disclaimer: This comes from be browsing itch.io and people self-submitting through the form. I haven’t played these games and mostly am just going by how interesting they sound to me. Okay, let’s go:

The Hollow Queen: This is a GM-less horror game from Venezuelan designer, Felix Rios, about a dark force haunting the streets and the people trying to uncover it. It uses the diceless Ten Coins system and is available in Spanish.

Contact: A game where you use a music playlist and tarot cards to play through a story about trying to make contact with aliens. I think the idea is that the songs contain encoded messages from the aliens, which is a neat reversal of the Voyager Golden Record. By j strautman.

Tangled Blessings: This is a solo dark fantasy game set in a magic school. It’s a solo/duet game, building on Anamnesis by Sam Leigh. You explore the secrets of this weird school while dealing with a rival who’s making your life difficult. Designed by Cassi Mothwin.

Strike Force Omega: This is LUMEN game about science-fantasy supersoldiers coming back for one last stand, defending their homes in a time of war. By Chris Longhurst, designer of See Issue X and Pigsmoke.

Thirty Foes  (OR Once again, we are defeated): In a similar premise, but much more focused on the drama rather than tactics, this is Seven Samurai but cosmic cowboys. They sling cosmic power and defend against bandits. And they’re probably going to die. From Rat Wave Game House.

Thief and Druid: Two games from Stéphanie Dusablon. Both are solo games with an optional journaling element. Thief uses the Push system and Druid uses the Firelights system. I’m not sure if this is a series that will expand to all the D&D classes but it’s a neat idea.

Skyrealms: This is a fantasy bestiary, setting, and solo adventure game about three floating islands in the misty heights, full of secrets and strange creatures. It’s from Iko and Armanda Haller. You can also use the bestiary as a colouring book apparently!

In The Blind: This is a sci-fi horror game about working class people trying to do their job and instead facing the darkness of space. This is a free preview and showcases how good Riley Daniels, designer of As The Sun Forever Sets, is at visual design.

Queenless: This is another Firelights game from solo game blog, Croaker RPGs. You play as members of the hive, exploring the world and protecting your home from destruction.

When Prophecy Fails: Nick Wedig makes a game about cultists and what happens when their foreseen apocalypse doesn’t happen. I’ll give you a hint: they often get even more radical. Based on the For the Queen. (PWYW)

The Score: Tin Star Games GM-less storygame where you tell a heist movie in 18 minutes using 18 cards.

SDM: Eternal Return Key: Luka Rejec follows up Ultraviolet Grasslands with a full OSR-style rulset and more weird setting. It has the same much-loved psychadelic vibe from the original and there’s a free art-less version as well.

the city begins to exist: A citybuilding game with some solid prompts. I can always use more citybuilding games! Designed by kay w.

[fallynleaf-gifs]

Wherever I go... whatever country I go to... I want the Golden Lovers to fight with the same emotion and one heart. —Kenny Omega

“What would Kota think?”

2019-2021

This is a long-overdue gifset. I meant to finish it in November 2021, then I meant to finish it in early 2022, then, well, May 2022 happened, and the Golden Lovers story effectively got put on ice, so I shelved the gifset, too. But now we have reason to hope again, so here it is. The Golden Lovers’ path has never been a straightforward or easy one.

I’ve seen Kota Ibushi described as a “ghost” that haunted Kenny Omega for those few years, but I don’t think that’s quite accurate. Kota has been part of the fabric of AEW itself since the very beginning. Despite the fact that he has yet to make an actual appearance, he has been present in direct references and allusions, in the Golden Lovers symbol on the shoulder of Kenny’s gear, and in the golden “E” in “AEW”, which originally came from the Golden Elite.

Without Kota Ibushi, AEW as we know it would not exist. Of course, a large part of that is his continuing influence on anything and everything that Kenny does. Kenny Omega only really tells one story. It’s the same story that he has been telling his whole career. Sometimes it’s a quiet, subtle story, and sometimes it’s a very loud one. Sometimes it’s both at the same time.

The first direct, unmistakable reference to Kota in AEW happened in an infamous Undertale-themed VTR on October 30, 2019. In it, Kenny is plagued by his own insecurity (which was not helped by Kota’s recent G1 win, in contrast to Kenny’s recent failures in AEW), and a seductive voice tries to prompt him to let it take control before his other tag partners leave him, too. But Sans steps in to stave off the inevitable, and Kenny manages to keep it together—for about a year or so.

The next reference happens a little over a week later, at Full Gear on November 9. Kenny has an unsanctioned match with Jon Moxley, and he brings out all sorts of weapons, including a horrific bed of barbed wire that Hangman Page and the Young Bucks were reluctant to help him with. But what gets him in the end isn’t any weapon, but a failed Phoenix Splash (Kota’s first finisher) onto the exposed wood of the ring. From there, Mox hits a Paradigm Shift and pins him. Kenny could endure broken glass and barbed wire, but the one pain he couldn’t withstand is the pain of a broken heart.

After that, he tries to retreat back into the only comfort he knows: tag team wrestling. He pressures Hangman into tagging with him, and the two of them set their sights on tag team gold. Miraculously, they manage to make it work, winning the titles a scant month and a half or so before the world shuts down. Kenny’s main focus is on tag team wrestling during this time, but in order to fix one major blemish on his singles record, he ends up wrestling Pac in an ironman match on February 26, 2020. One of the moves he pulls out is unmistakably a Kamigoye (Kota’s current finisher).

A few days after that, on February 29, Kenny and Hangman defend their titles against the Young Bucks at Revolution. It’s a match with quite a few references and callbacks (especially to the Golden Lovers vs Young Bucks match in 2018), but the most striking moment was the Bucks hitting Kenny with a Golden Trigger (the Golden Lovers’ finisher), which Kenny kicks out of after a mere 1-count, prompting a massive response from the crowd. No one can weaponize the Golden Lovers’ own love against him like that.

The end of that match portends division and betrayal between the four men, but before the story can continue as planned, the covid-19 pandemic hits, and everything in the world of pro wrestling changes.

The year that follows is a hard one. Kenny’s AEW tag title run has a cruel symmetry with Kota’s concurrent NJPW tag title run. Just as Kenny and Hangman finally find their equilibrium, FTR arrives to sow conflict, The Elite fractures, Kenny and Hangman drop the titles, and Kenny gives up on tag team wrestling. Everything in the Undertale VTR had come to pass. Having nowhere else to go, he goes to an old family friend: Don Callis.

Then, at Winter Is Coming on December 2, wrestling in frigid 40°F weather at the open-air Daily’s Place, Kenny beats Jon Moxley for the AEW World Championship, thanks to Don Callis helping him cheat. The two of them abscond with the title after the so-called “golden screwjob”, and Kenny takes it somewhere the Young Bucks aren’t willing to follow him—Impact Wrestling.

Thus kicks off the Belt Collector arc. Kenny soon acquires two new/old goons: Karl Anderson and Doc Gallows, both former members of Bullet Club. He starts considering himself part of Bullet Club again, and declares his intent to collect more belts besides the AEW one (and the AAA Mega Championship, which he already had), starting with Impact.

On January 4, 2021, Kota Ibushi wins the IWGP Heavyweight and Intercontinental Championships at Wrestle Kingdom in NJPW. A few days after that, Kenny posts an Instagram story wherein he looks at Sports Illustrated’s list of the top 10 wrestlers of 2020. Kenny is number five on the list, and Kota is number eight. We can see that Kenny was looking at Kota’s entry before he looked at his own.

Then, on January 28, on the three year anniversary of their reunion, Kota tweets at Kenny, proposing that their two companies change the industry together. Kenny replies, using Nak’s translation as a mediator, and says, “Already feeling lonely in the Kingdom I left for you? Shall I destroy it? Take my hand, we’ll build a new one”. Kota responds to him, but receives no answer.

A few days after that, on February 3, Kenta appears on AEW Dynamite, blowing the so-called Forbidden Door between AEW and NJPW wide open. From that point on, we’re truly in uncharted territory.

Kenny challenges for (and wins) the Impact World Championship in April, but leading up to that match, Don simultaneously stokes Kenny’s ego and tries to gaslight him into erasing Kota from his own history. He encourages Kenny to repeatedly say that no one has ever kicked out of the One Winged Angel (only one person actually has: Kota Ibushi. He’s the source of Kenny’s greatest strength and his greatest weakness). However, no matter how much Don tries, Kenny’s age-old insecurity emerges on March 23, when Don names a long list of wrestlers that Kenny is supposedly better than, and Kenny yells out “Bigger than Ibushi!”

Kenny names Kota again in a AAA promo on August 31, listing him among the best high flyers in the world. It’s abundantly clear that to Kenny Omega, Kota Ibushi is the greatest wrestler in the world. No matter how far Kenny goes, no matter how many belts he collects, no matter how many accolades he receives, Kota Ibushi will always stand above him in his own mind. Kenny will never be able to outrun him or let go of him. He can’t fill the hole in his heart with a new tag partner, and he can’t fill it with belts, either.

While all of this is happening, Kota is unfortunately not having the greatest summer of his life. He loses the IWGP belt to Will Ospreay on April 4, then gets aspiration pneumonia in July. He participates in the G1 Climax tournament in September and manages to make it all the way to the finals, but he dislocates his shoulder after a failed Phoenix Splash while facing Kazuchika Okada on October 21.

Kenny’s own injuries come back to haunt him, too, but his autumn goes a little bit better.

Adam Cole—an actual ghost from Kenny’s past—comes back to sow trouble for the Elite (though it takes a while to actually manifest), debuting at All Out on September 5 along with Bryan Danielson. Bryan wrestles Kenny a couple weeks later in his first match as an AEW member, on September 22 at Grand Slam. He forces Kenny to fight him with everything he has, and for just a moment, Bryan is able to draw out the Best Bout Machine instead of the Belt Collector. As he always does in his moments of greatest need, Kenny reaches for Kota Ibushi, and once again executes a Phoenix Splash, which, as always, he is unable to actually hit. This time, it doesn’t end in tragedy, though. Instead, the match goes to a full time limit draw.

The death knell for the Belt Collector looms near, however. Hangman Page earns himself a shot at the AEW World Championship at Full Gear on November 13. Three days before the match, they hold a contract signing for it on Dynamite.

Hangman, who knows Kenny very well by this point, is able to read the subtext. He finally figures it out. He realizes that everything Kenny said to him, everything that he did to him and with him, it was never actually about Hangman. It all sprung from a deeper wound that Kenny has carried with him all this time. As soon as Hangman figures this out, nothing Kenny does to him can hurt him anymore. "But if I remember, you once had another tag team partner who maybe you felt like you didn't measure up to either."

That one line also does something else that’s very important: it brings Kota Ibushi out of AEW’s subtext and into the main text. He’s part of the story now. And he always was. (The man himself liked a gif of Hangman’s “you once had another tag partner” line on twitter shortly after it happened. If there was ever any doubt that he’d been keeping up with what Kenny was doing in his absence, it’s gone now.)

Maybe the best illustration of this is a front row sign that a fan brings to Hangman and Kenny’s match at Full Gear a few days later. “What would Kota think?” Kenny stops to stare at it for a long moment before entering the ring. Years earlier, he’d talked about being so surprised and thrilled that the fans had managed to pick up on the Golden Lovers story leading up to their reunion in NJPW. He was so touched by the fact that the fans had known their history, after all that time. I wonder if he felt something similar here. It was in many ways the culmination of his efforts. The story made deeply tangible, here at the climax of its most difficult chapter.

As was always meant to happen, Kenny loses to Hangman and drops the AEW title. He makes one last onscreen appearance on November 17, 2021 before temporarily stepping away from AEW and away from wrestling so that he can recuperate from years of overworking himself. He says, “I feel like... there’s things I gotta fix, there’s things I gotta change, and I can’t do it here.” Is his relationship with Kota one of those things he had to fix?

Here’s where the story gets a bit hazy. Unfortunately, the year that follows does not go particularly well for either of the Golden Lovers, and plans have to get rewritten. Their respective injuries take longer than expected to heal, which leads to Kota having a falling out with NJPW in May 2022 after they try to force him to come back to the ring too soon. Kenny is finally able to make his own return in August 2022, but he returns to a troubled backstage environment, which finally boils over during the media scrum after All Out on September 4. Kenny and the rest of the Elite are forced to vacate their freshly won Trios Championships, and they all get suspended for a few months during the investigation.

But even in the darkest of moments, things aren’t all bad. The Golden Lovers reunite in a restaurant in Japan on September 15. They reunite on their own terms, outside of any company. The future is still a bit unclear for them, but wherever the story goes next, they want to do it right. “Because the tag team with him is more special to me than anything,” Kota says. He asks Kenny to wait for him, and Kenny assures him that he’ll wait as long as it takes. They both proclaim that the Golden Lovers aren’t over.

One day, the stars will align for them again. If it happens in AEW, the stage is already set. "What would Kota think?” was the question posed at the end of 2021. Maybe one day we will get to hear his answer.

[hereticpriest]

Mercy Chapter 6: Desire

Rating: Explicit 18+

MDNI

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

To begin with, some warnings about this story: A/B/O Dynamics, Female Alpha, Male Omega, Some chapters may involve messing with the whole 'alphas are always dom and omegas are always sub' because I think nuance exists even in A/B/O dynamics, Fucking with the timeline (this is a blend of Canon, Legends, and original lore), Minimal use of Y/N (Explained in the first chapter), Reader is an alien species of my own creation and thus has a physical description, Familial bonds explored heavily, Clone rights explored heavily, Violence is more graphic than canon-typical however any graphic descriptions will be noted, AFAB reader, Not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Chapter warnings: This is where the smut begins! Some descriptions of relatively minor injuries, description of a vehicle crash that could potentially be triggering, relatively explicit handjob.

Read on AO3

Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

Chapter Six: Desire

Once upon a time, you thought Anakin was the cause of the constant chaos that Obi-Wan and his Padawan got into on every single mission. Even knowing the menace the Omega had been as a youngling, you were certain that Obi-Wan had matured and become a good, serene Jedi who followed most of the rules. Anakin, meanwhile, had never met a rule he hadn’t bent. Mischief followed in his every footstep, and while he always managed to make it work for him, you knew he was even more of a menace than his Master.

Now, you know the truth. The truth is that they’re a duo of menaces who feed on each other's chaos, and Obi-Wan simply has to be cursed.

As you approach your destination, close enough that the massive blue-hued moon fills your viewscreen, you feel a disturbance in the Force. You lock eyes with Obi-Wan, but before you can say anything, something strikes into your ship like your shields are nothing more than paper. The cockpit seals automatically as the hull is breached, and you feel another thump as your ship is struck again, before it begins to shake as you approach atmo. You enter the atmosphere of the moon as a flaming ball of metal as Obi-Wan fights the controls to try and soften your landing.

It does little. Even Anakin would have struggled.

Aflame, the ship slams into swampland at a speed high enough to slam your head into the back of your seat so hard you black out, but slow enough that the hull protects you from instant death. When you wake up, it’s to a gentle trickle of swampy water on your face, and a searing pain in the back of your skull. There’s something trickling down the back of your neck, your robes are wet and sticky against your back, and the trickle of water slides down the curve of your nose, along your cheek, and down your throat.

“Mercy?”

You groan, trying to peel your eyes open though the effort seems monumental. You can taste iron, but you can feel all of your limbs, and the only thing that hurts badly enough to concern you is your head. Light slides across your eyeballs with all the searing pain of a lightsaber, and you wince away from it.

“Mercy, darling, look at me.” Obi-Wan’s voice begs distantly, his voice thick with concern. He smells sour with distress. You suck in a deep breath, blinking your eyes open to see Obi-Wan crouched over you in the cramped space of the cockpit. You hiss as his fingers prod delicately at the split in your skin, and he smiles when you finally make eye contact.

“Thank the Force - I thought you were dead. It’s only been a few minutes.” He murmurs, taking your hand and guiding it to where your blood flows sluggishly down your scalp. You tilt your head to spit out the blood in your mouth, gently encouraging the Force to heal you after making sure that Obi-Wan is uninjured. Of course he’d get away with minor bruising at worst, but thank the Stars he did.

“Some of our belongings were destroyed. I haven’t had a chance to look yet, but we’re half-buried in a swamp and both of our bags are soaked. Yours is leaking something purple.” Obi-Wan explains, his voice soft to avoid making your head hurt worse.

“S’just a body cream with bacta in it, for soreness at the end of the day.” You murmur as you concentrate on your injury. It takes time before it’s healed enough that your splitting headache fades and you’re no longer in danger of bleeding out, but you’re in no rush to move. Getting out of the mangled remains of the ship will be difficult, and then you’ve got the delights of a swamp to contend with. Obi-Wan crouches by his pack, picking through his belongings and scoffing as he rings out the change of robes he’d brought with him.

“Well, I didn’t bring much with me, but most of it is unharmed.” He informs you lightly, and you hum an acknowledgement as you pull yourself out of your seat with a heaving sigh. You have to use your tail to balance you, but you manage to grit your teeth through the temporary vertigo, grabbing your bag from the back of your chair. Your robes are sodden, and the few jars of skincare products you’d brought with you have shattered. Your medical kit is thankfully waterproof, but your datapad is a crumple of metal and glass shards. You paw at the front pocket of your bag and hiss through your teeth as you come to a startling realization. Your rut blocker pills have dissolved into a swampy mess at the bottom of that pocket, and your scent blocker patches were pierced through by a piece of glass from your jars. The inside of each pouch has gone from a mostly translucent green to a vile brown.

Only feet away, Obi-Wan lets out a whimper and you glance up at him automatically to make sure he’s okay. Similarly to you, he appears to have found his heat blockers and scent blockers destroyed, and his worry is so palpable you can taste it. You stand, dropping your bag into your seat carelessly as you gather Obi-Wan into your arms. He clutches tightly to you, and you shudder as his lips brush your shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay. I swear to you, everything is going to be okay.” You whisper against his hair, “I went on a mission with Qui-Gon years ago, before we had Anakin, where I had to… to follow my instincts as an Alpha. It was difficult, but I made it through without… well, without compromising myself. You’re stronger even than I am, Obi-Wan, you’ll be okay. I trust you… do you trust me?”

Obi-Wan lets you push him back a little so you can look at his face, but you can tell he doesn’t want to. He wants to hide, but you know you need to clear things up now while you both still have control of yourselves. He swallows around the lump in his throat, head nodding as his hands grasp at the sleeves of your robes. You wait patiently but expectantly, and he finally collects himself enough to speak.

“Yes, I trust you darling. I don’t trust myself. I haven’t… I haven’t been an Omega properly in two decades. I’ve never had a full heat. I haven’t gone a day without scent blockers, let alone heat blockers.” Obi-Wan explains, and you grip his shoulders tightly, grounding him in the moment. You can see it take effect just as much as you feel it under your hands as the tension in his strong shoulders eases.

“There is no shame between us, Obi-Wan, do you understand me?” Your voice is firm, unyielding, but you know the concept is difficult for him to fully grasp, “I will not judge you for anything, not just on this moon, but ever.”

Obi-Wan presses his forehead against yours, taking a breath to strengthen his resolve, then brushing his nose against you before he pulls away, “I will not judge you either, darling.”

With a gentle squeeze to his shoulders, you step away from him to check if there’s anything usable left unmarred in the ship, and nearly crow with delight when you find the long range transponder completely safe in a cabinet in the back of the cockpit. Two waterskins and a stack of ration bars lay in the cabinet below, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Moving quickly, you hand your finds off to Obi-Wan, then pull your lightsaber from your hip. It takes a second to cut through the transparisteel, but you make a hole big enough for the both of you, force-pushing it outwards to avoid injury. A simple reinforced leap takes you out into the damp heat of the swamp, and you reach out with the Force to check out your surroundings, sharp eyes keenly looking for any dangers. You find none - there are fish, amphibians and small mammals, but nothing large enough to pose a significant danger. Once you’re sure, you glance down to find Obi-Wan staring up at you expectantly, a cheeky grin on his face. Apparently your display had loosened him up a little.

“Am I allowed to come up now?” he asks playfully, and when you huff and move out of the way, he leaps up beside you. Together, you jump across the swamp to the mostly-dry grass and begin to make your way to higher ground. It’s daylight, thankfully, so you might have enough time to hang your clothes and dry them. You find a suitable place and set up a laundry line, taking off your cloaks to dry as well, and Obi-Wan takes the time to look at your scalp to make sure you did a ‘suitable job’ healing yourself.

“We’ll stink too much like swamp and mud to be able to smell each other at this rate.” You murmur, dropping your head into his lap once he’s satisfied with his inspection, resting in the tall grass while you wait. You both need a momentary reprieve, and the area is safe enough that you can justify it.

“Pity.” Obi-Wan nearly whispers back, brushing his fingertips across your cheek, “I remember you smelling quite nice.”

A breathy laugh escapes your lips, and you press into his touch.

“When have you ever properly smelled me, Obi-Wan Kenobi?” You ask, closing your eyes for a moment as he swipes the pads of his fingers across your lips. You catch one between your teeth, swiping your tongue across his fingertip before drawing it into your mouth.

“Wh-When Qui-Gon returned from his… Stars… from his mission with you. He hadn’t put his robes in the wash yet.” Obi-Wan breathes, pushing down gently on your tongue before swiftly pulling his hand away, “Swamp water, darling girl.”

You shrug to show how little you care about his cleanliness, but you know he’s always been a little more fastidious than yourself, “You smell like star fruit, tea, and honey. And some flower I swear I’ve smelled before but I can’t name it. I still think about it all the time, even all these years later.”

Pink blooms across Obi-Wan’s cheeks, stirring desire in your gut that has nothing to do with instinct and everything to do with how deeply you feel for him. You smile at the sight, sitting up a little to press a feather soft kiss to his cheek. You don’t linger close, crossing your legs and placing your hands against your knees.

“I wanted to steal Qui-Gon’s cloak.” Obi-Wan admits in a rush of breath, clearly leaning into the idea that this moon is your safe place to admit your secrets, “I wanted to knock on your door.”

Stars, he is so beautiful. You forget sometimes, with so much time apart.

“I knew better than to let you in, though I don’t know that it would have stopped me.” You murmur, and Obi-Wan breathes out harshly, leaning his head back against the tree he’s propped up on. You feel his force signature brush against yours, warm and sweet and painfully gentle. You reciprocate just as softly, but neither of you push. You’re still too nervous even as you both do everything but put a name to your feelings, talking in circles around the truth.

The wind picks up, and within only a couple of hours of peaceful dozing, your clothes and bags are dry. You both pack up in comfortable silence, though Obi-Wan does shoot you a glare when he notices you putting more in your bag than his. You ignore him, shouldering your pack and gesturing towards a mountain peak no more than two days walk away. It won’t be pleasant, but you’ve both endured worse.

“Well, let’s get started while the weather holds.” Obi-Wan quips cheerfully.

~

You sleep at the base of the small mountain in an alcove of stone and moss, and Obi-Wan doesn’t comment as you push him further towards the back while you lay protectively at the entrance. At least you were able to find shelter - the weather has held all day, but you know nothing of the wildlife on this moon, and you'd prefer to have some protection. With your Omega safely with his back to the rock wall, pillowed on a bed of moss and robes, your Alpha instincts are practically purring with satisfaction of a job well done. If nothing else, you appreciate your Alpha nature for giving you the ability to sleep so lightly that you feel capable of protecting him while still getting a night’s sleep. Your own bedding consists only of a pillow of your spare undertunic, spartan comfort in comparison to your Omega, but your instincts roar of prioritizing him over yourself. Obi-Wan attempts to protest, but you can feel that deep down, his Omega nature is pleased as punch that an Alpha is taking such good care of him even in a survival situation. He buries his face in the pillow you've made him of your robe, your cloak tucked around his form, and you swear you hear the tiniest hint of a raspy purr.

When you wake the following morning at first light, you stretch like a tooka cat, popping your back and shoulders. You can smell yourself over the now relatively mild scent of the swamp you’d crashed into, but more importantly, you can smell the herbal sweetness of Obi-Wan. Your scents blend beautifully, and you’re genuinely tempted to crawl closer and bury your face in the curve of his pretty neck to waste the day away wrapped up in him. You're safe enough in this little shelter you've found - you could afford to spend the day convincing Obi-Wan that you're the best Alpha for him. As if hearing your thoughts, he nuzzles deeper into his pillow, fingers clutching at the fabric like it might disappear. 

You've never seen someone prettier than him in all your years, even on the millions of holo advertisements across the surface of Coruscant. Models couldn't possibly compare. He's strong, and broad with a slimmer waist and wider shoulders. His thighs and ass are plush from his Omega nature, muscles rippling under skin soft as silk. When you were younger, his chest and stomach were all hard planes of muscle, but now he’s got the tiniest bit of padding to him that you want to sink your teeth into. You love the way he flushes pink with embarrassment or arousal, all the way to the tips of his ears. Freckles dot his skin like stars, more plentiful when he was younger, but still just as pretty. His arms are thick and strong, hidden under wide sleeves, and for the first time in a long time you curse the robes Jedi must wear for hiding his form from your gaze.

“I can feel you staring, darling.” Obi-Wan grumbles into the pillow made of your robes, and you admire the way his ginger eyelashes dust across his cheekbones. His plush, pink lips are pulled into a coy smile.

“You’re beautiful.” You reply simply, getting to your feet and moving away from the alcove to take care of your bodily functions in private. You don't stray too far, protective instincts flaring to life when you get more than a few feet away from the entrance. It's shocking how quickly they've kicked in, overriding your Jedi sensibilities. You blame the particular Omega you're with, certain your teeth wouldn't ache so much if he were anyone else. When you return, Obi-Wan has packed his things and put your borrowed clothing on your bag, but his cheeks are curiously pink. You raise an eyebrow at him expectantly, and he bounces on his heels a little as he considers what he’ll say.

“Can you… would you scent me, please?” Obi-Wan asks, and you break out into a grin, practically springing over to him.

“Of course, dearest.” You purr, taking his hand in yours and gently rubbing your cheek and chin against his scent gland. Obi-Wan's flush deepens, and he cups your cheek delicately.

"I meant my neck, Mercy. If you wouldn't mind terribly."

Your stomach drops and melts deliciously, arousal pooling in your gut. You smell the tang of it from yourself, and an answering whisper from the Omega in front of you, slowly growing stronger. Wordlessly, you grasp his hip in your free hand, pulling him closer to you. He goes willingly, pliant in your grip, his head tipping back to expose his neck for you. He’s so good. He doesn’t even know how good he is - he’s never had the chance to be an Omega before, but it comes naturally. His pupils are blown, turning his ocean blue eyes nearly black, and his sweet mouth is lax with desire. You chuff approvingly and he lets out a soft little whine in reply, one hand sliding into your hair while the other grasps at your back. Dipping your face to his collarbone, you nose your way along his throat, pressing a couple of soft kisses across his skin while he sighs with pleasure. Finally, your lips brush across the slightly raised skin of his scent gland and you feel a flood of tingly pheromones fill your nostrils. There's a deeper sweetness to his scent than before, hiding under the tang of his arousal. You can feel him hard against your hip.

Obi-Wan sighs as you rub your chin across his scent gland, blending your scents together. Forest and campfires blend with herbal tea and that sweet flower to become the smoky smell of rain dousing the last remnants of a forest fire and new life blooming in the aftermath. Cinnamon and vetiver tempered with honey and star fruit becomes a sweeter spice. The hardness at your hip becomes more insistent the longer you scent him, and Obi-Wan shivers as he rolls his hips into yours, testing to see how you’ll respond. You simply hum, licking a broad stripe across his scent gland before kissing your way up to his jaw. 

“Do you want help with that?” You whisper against his skin, “you’ll have to tell me, dearest, I can’t feel your thoughts.”

Obi-Wan grinds against your hip, trembling as he grasps at you for support.

”You could.” He tells you, and then again more urgently, “you could, darling.”

His force signature reaches out with open arms, and you sigh against his skin, but you reach out in answer. The instant you delve into each other, something snaps into place like it had always been meant to be there and it was just waiting on you two to figure out your shit. You feel Obi-Wan’s fear that you weren’t his fading into bright, radiant joy at the discovery that you are. Because that’s what this is. You are his, and he is yours, and the Force always meant for it to be that way.

He feels your reluctance to do this before, flooded with the fear that he might not be yours - that you might have to reconcile your feelings and give him up. Ignorance had felt like bliss until you joined with him in the Force. Now you knew you could have had him all along. As that thought blooms to life in your mind, Obi-Wan clings tighter to you, grinding more insistently. You remember your purpose, finding the thoughts Obi-Wan is projecting towards you, and you grin against the column of his throat.

”Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t know you were so desperate for my touch. Do you want me to take the edge off before we climb the mountain?” You practically purr, digging your thumb into the curve of his hip. He nods eagerly against you, a whimper rising in his throat, and you smile against his skin, “I need to hear you say it, Obi-Wan.”

He trembles, and you stroke his hip soothingly, mouthing along the edge of his beard. You can feel his internal struggle for his normal eloquence, words slipping through his fingers as his desperation spikes. Your charming Omega, The Negotiator, reduced to whimpers. You adore him. You would give him anything.

”Please, darling. I need you to touch me.” Obi-Wan murmurs, and you hum with surprise as he traces his fingers down the curve of your spine to grab a handful of your ass. It’s more bold than you expected from him, but you’re certainly not upset. You press your lips to his in a gentle kiss, learning through your connection what feels good, and how to move. Thirty-three years old and you know through your connection that this is a first for both of you. It’s a soft thing, learning to kiss together based solely on what you’ve seen in holos and what feels right to you both. Connected as you are through the Force, you can feel what he likes, just as he can feel what gives you pleasure. He knows the scratch of his beard against your skin is making your heart race. He knows that every time he touches you, your skin tingles. He knows that every kiss sends a feeling of rightness through you so strong that your body sings with it.

You guide him carefully back into the alcove, moving in sync through your bond in the Force. He lays back on the moss he’d slept on the night before, cloak pooling underneath him as you undo his belt and only break from the kiss to pull his pants down around his thighs. Pink blooms across his cheeks as he’s exposed to the morning air, and you swallow around the lump in your throat as you realize how hard he is. You’ve seen him shirtless before when you were younger, so you know he’s got ginger hair across his chest and down the line of his stomach, but he looks much hairier now. His thighs are thick and muscular, pale as moonlight and covered in light baby-fine hair that catches the sun. You think he’s even more beautiful now than he was as a younger man.

You’ve never seen a man naked before - at least not properly - but you think Obi-Wan must be the most beautiful man in the world, from his lovely adonis belt to the ginger hair trailing down his stomach to a thicker bush around the base of his cock. He was the perfect mix of hard and soft, muscular and strong but plush in the way that an older man often was. You nuzzle your face against his tummy and he gasps, jerking beneath your touch. Laughing quietly, you nip at his hip and finally turn your gaze to the centre of his pleasure. It seems too big, but you don’t have a point of reference. His cock is long, curving up towards his belly and leaking so much precum you’re sure his underwear would be soaked if you checked. Like the rest of him, he’s mouthwateringly thick and you’re not sure how he’ll manage to fit, though you trust you both will make it work. There are several large veins that pulse as you stare at your Omega, and the head is flushed red with need. You lick your lips, and Obi-Wan lets out a groan at the sight, head falling back on the moss below him.

”Stars, you’re so pretty.” You praise as you touch the tip of your finger to the precum beading at the tip. You suck it off your finger, earning yourself another groan as he struggles to stay still. It’s salty, a little tangy, but not unpleasant. The smell of it fills your nose, pheromones blooming on your tongue. Omega slick. Apparently there was nothing else like it, and now you’ve had a taste, you can’t help but agree.

”Alpha, please.” He whimpers, and you finally give in, wrapping your hand around him. Obi-Wan shudders, hips stuttering into your hand, and you watch his eyes flutter closed as he gasps for breath.

”You’ll have to help me, sweet Omega. Let me know what feels good.” You murmur, stroking him from base to tip with a firm but gentle grip. A drop of precum spills over your knuckles and you lick it up, the tip of your tongue sliding over the head and turning Obi-Wan’s moans into a shout of pleasure. His fingers slide into your hair to hold you, and you look up at him through your eyelashes as you experimentally flick your tongue across the head again. Your hand begins to stroke him up and down steadily, setting a pace based on his moans and quiet whimpers of ‘faster’ or ‘tighter’.

You switch hands so that you can lay down beside him, drawing his body against yours so that you can nuzzle against his scent gland. Obi-Wan shudders, and you hum with pleasure as he takes your face in his hands and presses a messy kiss to your lips. Neither of you necessarily know what you’re doing as it's only your second kiss, entirely instinct driven and guided by your bond, but it sends fire through your veins regardless. You stroke your Omega a little faster, thumb rolling across the head to collect the slick steadily dripping from him and use it to ease the glide of your hand. You can feel him getting closer, hips bucking in pace with you, fucking into your hand. When he whimpers and his pace begins to falter, you take over again, urging him towards his completion with gentle praise whispered in his ear or against his lips.

”Good boy. Stars, you’re so good for me, Obi-Wan. Such a good little Omega, perfect, and all mine, aren’t you? I’m such a lucky Alpha to have such a good boy all to myself. To have a strong Omega that can take care of himself… but you’d like me to take care of you, don’t you, dearest? Let me help you, sweetling. Let me take care of my sweet Omega, make you cum in my hand, just a hint of the pleasure I’ll give you for the rest of our lives.”

Obi-Wan shatters in your arms, but you hold him together, milking his orgasm from him with gentle but firm hands. He groans, shouting ‘Alpha’ as he cums across his stomach, thick and sticky and making a mess of the hair on his belly. You can’t believe how long it goes on - you’d always assumed it was a quick thing, an orgasm, but Obi-Wan’s stomach is covered in cum by the end of it, and you’re stunned to find him more beautiful than ever. You kiss his cheek and jaw as he pants for breath, finally letting his cock go as it softens and becomes over-sensitive. You lick your fingers clean while Obi-Wan watches, an anguished whimper falling from his lips.

”What?” You ask, and he scoffs, dragging you in for a surprisingly harsh kiss.

”Licking my cum from your fingers and you ask me ‘what?’ As if it isn’t obvious. You’re going to make me hard again, darling.” Obi-Wan murmurs in between kisses, licking his way into your mouth in search of every little taste of himself on your tongue. You sigh happily into the kiss, languishing in this happy bubble of softness and sated bliss. Obi-Wan reaches for your robes, but you take his hands in yours, kissing his knuckles. That deeper sweetness to Obi-Wan’s scent has only grown since you first caught a whiff of it, and you’ve finally put two and two together. 

“I’m okay for now, dearheart. We need to get going so we can set up the long range transponder and get back down the mountain before nightfall.” You murmur. Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows at you, and you project the honesty of your words to him, “You’re going into pre-heat, Obi-Wan. We need to get back and get set up so that I can take care of you.”

You feel a flicker of fear from Obi-Wan at the idea of his heat that quickly melts into tentative excitement at the concept of you taking care of him through it. That excitement blossoms as you use the Force to pull your bag towards you, swapping out your pants for your spare pair and using the ones you were wearing to clean Obi-Wan’s cum off of his stomach delicately. You’ll need to circle back to the stream you had passed on the journey to the base of the mountain and wash all of your clothes before your Omega’s heat truly settles in, just in case it triggers your rut and you won’t be coherent enough to go later. It isn’t too far, but you’ll have to go after you get back. Together, you pack up the last of your things and start what will likely be a long trek up the mountain, supporting Obi-Wan through his initial jelly-legged couple of minutes.

[llunar-wing]

⚣ Choice 💎

⚣💎 A/N → New original post on Patreon. This will be a three-part series. Little fun fact, I use a random picker wheel to help me decide what I should write my stories about and where I should set them. The choices for this one were the tropes of a Playboy paired with a Fake Relationship set in a Big City. You'd think something like that would be easy, but I went through so many drafts of this, it was crazy. Anyways, hope you all enjoy! Also a reminder! The full story will be released exclusively on my Patreon first and will remain exclusive until my next story comes out, which means...Karma will officially be released in full publicly! You'll be able to find it on my Wattpad and Patreon! WARNINGS: | Forced Touching & Light Sexual Harassment | Possessive/Jealous Behavior | Class/Economic Disparity | Emotional Angst | Sexual Angst | Sexual Themes |

⚣💎 Summary → An Omega faking romance with an Alpha who’s one part charm, two parts ego, and a dash of possessiveness? What could go wrong? Oh, just everything—including a will that demands a wedding. Cue the drama, awkward slow dancing, and a lot of “I swear this is just for show” moments. Welcome to the chaos, where love might just sneak in—if one doesn’t kill the other first!

⚣💎 Words → 33.3K

⚣ ENJOY 💎

Tres Bellamonté, one of the world’s most luxurious and exclusive hotels, sat high on a hillside, overlooking the glittering cityscape below. Its castle-like architecture glowed against the evening sky, a beacon of wealth and privilege. The hotel’s secluded location only added to its allure, accessible to those whose wealth placed them in a tax bracket most could only dream of. Tonight, it played host to the illustrious Sinclair family—practically royalty among the upper echelons of society—for their annual charity gala, an event so exclusive it made the Met Gala look like a neighborhood potluck. Even the Kardashians had to pull strings just to snag an invite.

Inside, the ballroom was a spectacle of extravagance. Crystal chandeliers hung from gilded ceilings, casting a warm, radiant light over the polished marble floors. Every surface seemed to glisten, from the delicate gold accents on the walls to the glassware that sparkled beneath the ambient glow. Guests moved about with graceful ease, the soft murmur of refined conversation mingling with the delicate strains of live classical music.

If anything, the funds spent on hosting this evening alone could probably cover donations to every charity they claimed to support—enough to last each one a decade, at least.

Waitstaff glided through the crowd, offering trays of delicately arranged canapés—caviar on blinis, truffled foie gras, and delicate lobster medallions—paired with flutes of the finest champagne. The scent of these gourmet delights mixed with the subtle fragrance of fresh floral arrangements, creating an ambiance that was both decadent and refined.

Guests moved through the space with practiced ease, as if events like these were nothing but a day job to them. They walked around in heels that could pay the rent of ten people, wore earrings that could be classified as weapons, and flashed smiles as real as Jennifer Lopez's humility. Flowing gowns adorned with intricate beadwork and shimmering sequins, and tailored tuxedos that spoke of bespoke craftsmanship would be tucked into garment bags and hidden in closets, never to see the light of day again after tonight.

Everyone's outfits, a spectrum of colors that complemented the event’s white-and-gold theme, came in second only to those of the gala's hosts and guests of honor. Members of the Sinclair family and their partners for the evening were adorned in the striking combination of white and gold. The rest of the attendees, while no less elegant, wore hues that played off the aesthetic of the evening, creating a visual feast that matched the grandeur of the setting.

Standing near the grand entrance, Jethro Thorne shifted uncomfortably, surveying the opulent ballroom through narrowed eyes. Dark curls framed his face, softening the lines of his jaw, while a carefully groomed beard added a hint of ruggedness to his otherwise smooth features. His rich, warm brown skin glowed subtly under the light, accentuating his toned arms and the fullness of his frame—rounded and firm shoulders tapering to a defined waist. Jethro’s lean build leaned more toward athletic than delicate, but tonight’s outfit—a white and gold ensemble chosen by one of the many stylists he had assigned to him—seemed intent on emphasizing his curves over his muscles. 

The fitted vest hugged his torso snugly, the gold accents drawing attention to the cinched waist and the contrasting fabric that wrapped around his hips. His slacks, while sharply tailored, clung almost too tightly around his thighs and backside, accentuating his rounded, shapely figure in a way that felt distinctly revealing. The gold-and-white design, while elegant, seemed to catch the gaze of more than a few guests as they lingered, curiosity barely masked by politeness.

He held a glass of sparkling water, gripping it like a lifeline, though he hated the stuff. But in a place like this, it was the only beverage he could stomach—the kind of event where everything had to bubble or come in a shiny bottle, because, apparently, drinking anything flat might as well have been the equivalent of drinking tap water.

And this was why he wasn’t meant for these kinds of events.

His deep brown eyes scanned the sea of well-dressed Alphas, Betas, and the occasional Omega, all moving effortlessly within a world built on old money and inherited privilege. The kind of privilege that didn’t just open doors—it built new ones, entirely out of reach for most. Compared to the life he’d known, the ease and excess these people exuded was almost grotesque. The more he observed, the harder it was to contain the growing disdain simmering within him.

For someone like Jethro, raised by a father and grandfather who instilled the values of hard work, discipline, and resilience, seeing these people live with lives spoon-fed to them—often on literal silver spoons, probably encrusted with diamonds—was sickening. He remembered every hand-me-down from his older brother Jorge and the way they’d shared everything growing up: the TV, the family computer, even the few video games they could afford as long as the bills were paid. And while he knew his life wasn’t the hardest out there, it made this gilded world feel even more absurd by comparison.

Weekend "outings" were limited to public parks, going to the movies and the local Applebee’s or Chili’s for dinner. Here, though? A weekend for these people meant a last-minute private jet to the coast, reservations at places where a glass of sparkling water could run you $25 and wouldn’t even blink if you ordered a $500 bottle of wine for breakfast, along with childhoods raised on horseback riding lessons and designer nurseries.

He thought back to his grandfather and father doing whatever they could to make sure he and his brother each had at least three gifts for Christmas—most likely from the clearance section, but given with love all the same. Meanwhile, he’d overhear these privileged brats bragging about their endless wardrobes from Gucci, Louis Vuitton, Prada, and whatever other brands they dropped with their veneer-polished smirks. His grandfather had made him and his brother volunteer at shelters every holiday season, where they’d watch parents struggle to explain why there was only one, or sometimes no, gift to unwrap. And here he was, surrounded by spoiled pests whining about how their parents didn’t buy them the exact custom sports car they wanted. Hard life indeed.

It made him bristle, seeing the glistening diamonds and custom-made shoes that these guests wore as effortlessly. And for what? Just another evening of excess, where they could show off to each other and feel a little more special than they had yesterday. The whole scene was a spectacle that felt foreign, like he’d somehow wandered onto the set of someone else’s life.

He adjusted the collar of his tailored suit, feeling the weight of the evening pressing down on him like that five-tier cake that looked ready to tip over with even the slightest nudge. This party, this crowd, this whole world—it all felt foreign to him, like an outsider looking in.

The opulence, the pretension, the constant undercurrent of judgment—it all conflicted with everything he knew. He had to stand a certain way because he slouched too much, and he had to make sure he knew the difference between a salad fork and a dinner fork.

They were both forks! Seriously, what’s the big deal? You pick it up, stab the food, and chew. Either way, it ends in murder committed by teeth. But, of course, that’s not how these prissy snobs saw it.

But, it wasn’t just the champagne that seemed to flow like water to these people, or the sea of tailored suits and glittering gowns. It was the constant undercurrent of judgment, the subtle way people glanced his way—curious, assessing. It was one thing for Jethro to feel like he didn’t belong here, these people seemed to go extra hard out of their way to make sure he knew he didn’t belong here with their subtle but shady comments and questions.

They might call it “intrigue” or “curiosity,” but Jethro’s bullshit detector had been finely tuned since childhood, and he’d lost count of how many times he felt the urge to remind these people what curiosity did to the cat. Yet, as much as these pompous peacocks and their holier-than-thou airs grated on him, they weren’t the biggest sources of his irritation tonight—though that didn’t make the temptation to slap half of them into next week any less appealing. Especially that Greenburg guy who felt the need to comment on his ‘shapely’ figure…

The true recipient of Jethro's simmering ire tonight wasn’t one of these overdressed socialites or self-important moguls—but rather, the man at the center of it all, the name everyone in the room had come to see, the reason for this ostentatious display of wealth and power. No, the honor of being the prime source of Jethro's aggravation belonged to none other than the heir to the Sinclair empire, the man whose presence commanded attention and whispered scandal in the same breath: Sebastian Sinclair.

Epitome of wealth and charm, known to the tabloids and general public as America’s Favorite Playboy, Sebastian Sinclair stood by Jethro’s side with a tall, commanding presence, olive-toned skin, and chiseled features sharp enough to make even a nun murmur a soft and breathy “Holy Jesus.” He watched the crowd with detached amusement, his alluring green eyes flicking to Jethro with a faint smirk, clearly entertained by the Omega’s discomfort.

Every time Jethro shifted, trying to put a few more inches of space between them, Sebastian’s hand found its way to the small of his back, pulling him right back into place, as though he were reeling in a wandering puppy. Every shift, every attempt to create a bit of space between them, Sebastian never failed to force him right back to where he was, if not, closer with a firm grip, guiding him seamlessly through the room as if to say, This one’s with me.

Jethro tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore the growing discomfort as Sebastian’s hand remained firmly on him, an unyielding presence that left him with little choice but to move in sync with the Alpha’s guidance. Each touch felt heavier than it needed to be, lingering just a second longer, drawing him closer in a way that felt far more intimate than necessary. As they navigated the room, Sebastian’s fingers pressed subtly yet deliberately into his back, their warmth almost daring Jethro to pull away—if he even could. Every subtle pull, every guiding nudge, seemed to blur the line between mere performance and something more unsettlingly real.

Leaning in close, his breath warm against Jethro’s ear, he murmured, “Would you relax?” his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air between them. “You’re acting like you haven’t done this before.”

Jethro raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right, because I’m totally in my element here, mingling with the high and mighty. But hey, I guess some of us just haven’t mastered the art of the smug smile and firm handshake.” He cast a pointed look at Sebastian. “Then again, this is your world, isn’t it?”

Sebastian’s gaze remained fixed on him, amusement sparking in his glimmering green eyes as his lips curved into that maddening, self-assured smirk. “And tonight, it’s yours too,” he murmured, his hand slipping down to rest at the small of Jethro’s back. The touch was warm and undeniably possessive which was strange and confusing for the Omega, but also a gentle yet unyielding reminder of the part they were both playing—a part Sebastian seemed to relish far too much and that Jethro was getting sick of.

“Would you cut it out?!” Jethro hissed under his breath, slapping the Alpha’s wandering hand that had grazed his backside one too many times tonight.

Sebastian’s smirk only deepened when Jethro slapped his hand away, his full lips curving into a grin that radiated a mixture of mischief and unapologetic confidence. His light, piercing eyes—somewhere between hazel and green—held a glint of amusement, an almost predatory gleam beneath thick, dark brows and long lashes that gave his gaze an intensity impossible to ignore. His curls framed his face, adding to his allure and highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the boldness of his mustache—a feature that, along with his high cheekbones and naturally sun-kissed skin, completed a look that effortlessly commanded any room he walked into.

The Alpha’s hand didn’t stray far; it drifted down again, this time lingering on the smooth lines of Jethro’s fitted vest, his fingers tracing along the structured seams that hugged Jethro's silhouette with a bold elegance. The vest’s gold accents glinted under the chandelier lights, emphasizing the shapely curves it sculpted against Jethro’s frame. Sebastian’s fingers finally settled with a possessive grip at Jethro’s waist, his touch firm and teasing, pressing into the tailored fabric as if staking a tacit mark. Each calculated caress was a reminder of Sebastian's authority—one the Alpha seemed all too pleased to assert, leaving Jethro fighting to keep his frustration in check, even as a confusing warmth blossomed within him.

“Would you stop that?” Jethro hissed, his voice low but tense with irritation. The way Sebastian’s touch lingered, just barely restrained, made his skin prickle with an uneasy thrill he didn’t want to admit. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Sebastian’s gaze sparkled with quiet authority as he leaned in, his lips hovering so close that Jethro could feel the warmth of his breath. “Relax,” he murmured—a gentle word cloaked in an unmistakable command, the kind of soft-spoken order that left little room for defiance. His fingers pressed a bit more firmly at Jethro's waist, a subtle yet undeniable claim, one that didn’t go unnoticed by the lingering gazes around the room. For their benefit, Sebastian offered a polite, indifferent smile, his expression as effortless as if this display of dominance were the most natural thing in the world.

Jethro’s breath hitched, his immediate impulse to push back clashing with his body’s instinctive urge to submit, a primal response embedded deep within him as an Omega. The unyielding pressure of Sebastian’s touch awakened something unsettling, a strange pull to yield, to soften under the Alpha’s dominance. He didn’t want to acknowledge how his body responded, didn’t want to admit that some maddening part of him craved the firm steadiness of that grip. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to meet Sebastian’s gaze for just a second before looking away, struggling to conceal the simmering frustration—and the faint, unbidden confusion now tangled with it.

As they moved deeper into the crowd, the Alpha’s hand remained at the small of Jethro’s back, exerting a barely-there pressure that nonetheless managed to steer him effortlessly. It was light, almost delicate, but every brush of Sebastian’s fingers sent a ripple of awareness down Jethro’s spine, reminding him of the part they were playing tonight. 

Sebastian was in the midst of entertaining a small crowd of admirers, his deep voice smoothly recounting a story that blended their shared past with exaggerated romanticism. “It all started when we were just kids,” Sebastian said, flashing a charming smile at the group. “Our grandparents were the best of friends—my grandmother adored the jewelry Jethro’s grandfather crafted. We practically grew up together, and years later, we reconnected after my grandmother's unfortunate passing when I had to pick up something she left at his shop, which Jethro now runs. Seeing him again and how tirelessly he works to keep his grandfather's legacy alive resonated deeply with me, and I knew right then that he was the one.”

The admiring crowd hung on to Sebastian’s every word, their eyes flicking between him and Jethro with a mixture of envy and fascination, as though they were witnessing a romance worthy of legends. 

Truthfully, he was surprised he’d managed to keep up this act as long as he had, but he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out—especially with the subtle looks and veiled comments certain guests kept throwing his way, their smiles tight and eyes assessing even as they laughed along to Sebastian’s romantic tale.

“Oh, that’s so like Sebastian, investing in our less fortunate communities.”

“I always knew the day would come when Sebastian would settle down, but I pictured him with someone a bit more…fitting to his lifestyle. This must feel like a fairytale for you, doesn’t it?”

“I’m surprised he didn’t choose someone with a touch more femininity. Don’t take it the wrong way, dear; you’re charming and easy on the eyes, but even for an Omega, I’d have thought Sebastian would want someone a bit more delicate–a proper woman, if you will.”

And this was exactly why he wasn’t meant for these kinds of events.

With every dig and backhanded compliment, Jethro forced himself to swallow his irritation, keep on that polite smile, and nod along as though their words didn’t graze him in the slightest. And, mostly, they didn’t. He couldn’t give one fuck, two fucks, blue fucks, or a yellow fuck about what these Botox-pumped snobs thought of him.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to just stand there and let these people take cheap shots without a word in return. He’d love nothing more than to tell them they looked like the unfortunate love child of Voldemort and the Joker, or that no amount of designer wear could mask the lack of personality—or, more likely, the lack of anything in their pants worth bragging about.

The casual touches, the glances, the carefully crafted words—all of it fell perfectly into place, an intricately woven performance that Sebastian handled with ease. Jethro, on the other hand, felt as though he were merely a prop, his role to nod and smile in all the right places, maintaining the facade that he was truly enamored. It was a strange kind of entrapment, a surreal blend of duty and discomfort, made only more bewildering by the faint thrill of being the object of such attention, even if it was just for show.

He was supposed to be the doting partner, after all—loyal, enamored, content in the grasp of the wealthy heir. The whole thing felt absurd, a scene better suited for a play than real life. And yet here he was, a theatre nerd unwittingly cast in a role he was desperate to escape but found himself slipping into all too easily.

Something in the universe is out to get him.

Sebastian led Jethro seamlessly through the glittering ballroom, pausing here and there to introduce him to various guests. His arm remained snug around Jethro's waist, the warm, muscular hold both guiding and binding him to the Alpha’s side. It was as though Sebastian wanted to make his presence unmistakable, silently declaring to the room that the Omega was his—even if just for show. Jethro could feel the weight of each stare that followed them, every curious and envious gaze making him even more conscious of the Alpha’s touch.

As they stopped to greet another circle of admirers, Jethro took a moment to steal a glance at Sebastian’s suit. Tonight, the Alpha wore a custom-tailored masterpiece that left nothing to subtlety. A lavish gold and cream ensemble, it practically shimmered under the warm light, drawing the eye with intricate baroque patterns woven across the fabric. The high-lapel jacket was a work of art in itself, embroidered with elaborate gold designs that wrapped around his frame like delicate vines. Each swirl and embellishment seemed to be crafted to highlight Sebastian’s broad shoulders and tapered waist, the jacket hugging his powerful build in a way that looked almost painted on. The polished fabric reflected hints of the ballroom's ambient glow, casting a soft sheen as he moved with the grace of someone who owned the space—and probably everyone in it.

The vest beneath the jacket matched the decadence, with gold piping that traced down the sculpted lines of his torso, creating a striking contrast against the crisp white shirt underneath. A champagne-colored bow tie completed the look, adding a touch of playful elegance to an otherwise commanding outfit. Every detail was designed to perfection, from the slight shimmer of his pocket square to the subtle glint of the watch on his wrist. Sebastian’s attire radiated both wealth and authority, reinforcing his position at the pinnacle of this social sphere.

One of the guests, a silver-haired Alpha with a sharply tailored suit and a smile that barely touched his eyes, stepped forward, exuding an air of restrained authority. “Sebastian,” he greeted smoothly, the faintest hint of amusement in his voice, as though he’d been waiting for just the right moment to make his presence known. “It’s been too long. And who is this?”

Sebastian’s arm tightened ever so slightly around Jethro’s waist, a subtle but unmistakable display of possession. With that easy, practiced smile that seemed to put everyone around him at ease—or, more accurately, on edge—he turned his attention fully to the silver-haired Alpha. “Always a pleasure, Charles,” he replied, his voice smooth as velvet. He gestured toward Jethro with a casual elegance, his expression unreadable save for a faint glimmer of amusement in his light, piercing eyes. “This is Jethro Thorne, my partner.”

Sebastian’s arm tightened ever so slightly around Jethro’s waist, a subtle but unmistakable display of possession. With that easy, practiced smile that seemed to put everyone around him at ease—or, more accurately, on edge—he turned his attention fully to the silver-haired Alpha. “Always a pleasure, Charles,” he replied, his voice smooth as velvet. He gestured toward Jethro with a casual elegance, his expression unreadable save for a faint glimmer of amusement in his light, piercing eyes. “This is Jethro Thorne, my partner.”

The word hung in the air with calculated weight, its meaning leaving little room for misinterpretation. Jethro stiffened, his polite smile wavering for a brief second as he felt every gaze shift to him, some with curiosity, others with thinly veiled skepticism. The Omega met Charles’s assessing stare with a practiced calm, hoping it hid the simmering irritation he felt at being so pointedly scrutinized.

Charles inclined his head, the sharp smile never quite reaching his eyes. “A pleasure, Mr. Thorne,” he drawled, though his tone held an edge that made it clear he was evaluating every inch of him. “Sebastian certainly knows how to pick his company.”

Jethro’s polite smile tightened, his fingers subtly digging into the glass he held, resisting the urge to say something that would surely shatter this meticulously cultivated image Sebastian wanted him to maintain. “Likewise,” he replied, his voice even but with a hint of frost that he hoped conveyed his disinterest in this thinly veiled appraisal.

The conversation continued, with Sebastian deftly guiding it away from anything too personal, smoothly deflecting Charles’s intrusive questions with the ease of someone who had long mastered the art of charming deflection. Jethro couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for the Alpha’s skill; Sebastian was clearly in his element here, navigating the conversation with practiced precision, his responses polished and effortless.

Later in the evening, Jethro found himself standing alone on one of the grand balconies connected to the ballroom, overlooking the sweeping view of the cityscape below. The cool night air brushed against his face, offering a brief reprieve from the stifling opulence inside. Far below, the city lights sparkled like scattered jewels, winding rivers of headlights tracing through the darkened streets, while the towering presence of Tres Bellamonté loomed over the hillside, glowing against the night sky. The hotel’s turrets and castle-like architecture only enhanced the feeling of being high above it all, isolated from the world in a gilded fortress.

Jethro inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp night air as he tried to release the tension coiled tight in his shoulders. It was rare to find a moment alone in this gilded world, where the only thing he could hear was the faint hum of the city below, a world that felt infinitely more real than the one he’d just left inside. But, his moment of quiet didn’t last long as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Frowning, he retrieved it, half expecting to see Sebastian’s name, but instead, his store attendant, Isaac’s contact glowed on the screen.

He hesitated, the surprise quickly giving way to concern. Isaac rarely called him outside of work hours unless something was amiss. Stepping further into the shadows, he answered, his voice low. “ Hey, Isaac. What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Hey Jethro,” Isaac’s deep, warm tone was a comfort in the sterile, opulent setting around him even despite the undercurrent of tension to it. “Sorry to bother you while you’re out. Do you have a second?”

Definitely. Anything that kept him out of that suffocating room filled with over-perfumed, self-important imbeciles was well worth his attention.

"Yeah, of course. Everything alright, Isaac? Did something happen at the store?” Jethro asked, bracing himself for bad news and hoping it wasn’t about a robbery or something worse. “The store’s fine,” Isaac replied, though his tone held a cautious edge. “But…your brother stopped by.” Jethro sighed. Fantastic. He’d take a robbery over Jorge’s tantrums any day.

Jethro took a steadying breath, already bracing himself for whatever headache Jorge had brought with him this time. “Lovely. What did he want?” he asked, keeping his tone as light as he could manage despite the initial sarcasm in it.

Isaac hesitated on the other end, a pause thick with unspoken words. “Well, he was...looking for you. Seemed a bit irritated when he found out you weren’t here. Tried asking questions about the store’s finances. I didn’t give him anything, obviously, but he wasn’t exactly pleased when I told him his access had been cut off.”

Jethro clenched his jaw. “Sounds like Jorge.” He could practically see his brother’s scowl, the way he’d stand too close, trying to intimidate his way into getting what he wanted. “He didn’t break anything, did he?”

Isaac gave a low chuckle, though there was a hint of irritation beneath it. “No, he was smart enough to keep his fists to himself. But, can’t say the same for his language. He had few choice words about for me getting in his way as he described. Called me everything everything you can think of under the sun from a 'nosy pawn' to your little lapdog.” There was a subtle edge to Isaac’s voice, a hint of restrained annoyance as he recounted Jorge’s scathing remarks.

Jethro raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with dry humor. "Surprised he didn’t reserve some of his vocabulary for me."

“Oh, he had plenty for you, don’t worry,” Isaac replied, his voice carrying a trace of tension masked with humor. “But my mother taught me better than to repeat that kind of language. Especially in the presence of of others.” His tone held a touch of dry amusement, though the tension underneath was unmistakable.

Jethro sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He could easily picture the look on Jorge’s face—the narrowed eyes, the tight set of his jaw, his meticulously groomed features twisted into that familiar scowl. With his angular jawline and piercing gaze, Jorge had a striking presence, especially when he turned on that look, the one that said he was used to getting his way. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything back. You know how he gets.”

Ironically, if they’d grown up with a bit more money, Jethro could easily picture his brother fitting right in with these shallow, paper-thin socialites.

Isaac’s voice softened, an almost playful edge slipping in. “Relax, Jethro. I know how to handle a guy like him without stooping to his level. Let’s just say I reminded him that you’re the one who holds the reins now—and that anyone not respecting that should probably reconsider their approach. He didn’t take it well, but he got the message.” Isaac paused, his tone dipping with a hint of warmth. “But, I wouldn’t be surprised if he came back.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Jethro murmured, already hearing the childish insults and tantrums his brother was known for. “Thank you, Isaac. You can lock up the store and head home if you want. I’ll probably be back hopefully within the next couple of hours.”

Isaac’s voice lingered with an easygoing warmth, though there was a trace of reluctance. “I think I’ll stick around a bit longer, just in case your brother decides to make an encore appearance,” he replied, a quiet resolve in his words. After a beat, his tone softened, taking on a note of genuine concern. “How about you, though? Everything alright on your end? Sinclair behaving himself, or do I need to drive up there?”

Jethro let out a huff of amusement, rolling his eyes despite himself. “I can handle him, Isaac… though, if anyone else decides to throw out another backhanded compliment about my outfit, my body, or whatever superficial nonsense they can think of, you might need to bring my bat from behind the counter.”

As he said it, flashes of the evening ran through his mind—Sebastian’s hand lingering at his waist, his fingers drifting down, pressing possessively into his hip or, more brazenly, giving his backside a casual slap and squeeze. Each intimate, uninvited touch felt like it crossed an invisible line, igniting a simmering mix of irritation and embarrassment on the surface. But beneath it, in places he stubbornly refused to acknowledge, was a flicker of excitement, a thrill he wished he could just ignore. Isaac’s voice, warm and steady on the other end, pulled him back to reality—a grounding presence he hadn’t realized he needed tonight.

Of everyone in that room, Sebastian should count himself the luckiest that Jethro hadn’t thought to bring his bat—because, honestly, he wouldn’t have needed even a hint of temptation to start his baseball career right there, with the smug Alpha’s face as his first swing.

Unbeknownst to him, Sebastian had already entered the balcony, the Alpha’s silent steps going unnoticed as he listened to the soft murmur of Jethro’s voice in conversation. He leaned casually against the doorway, his sharp eyes narrowing as he caught snippets of the exchange, his jaw tightening ever so slightly at the warmth in Jethro’s tone—a warmth he had yet to hear be directed at himself.

After another brief exchange of reassurances, Jethro ended the call with a sigh, slipping his phone back into his pocket as he tried to savor just a few more seconds of peace. But the moment didn’t last. The soft sounds of footsteps behind him were almost imperceptible, but the sudden shift in the air sent a chill down his spine. When he turned, Sebastian was already there, standing far closer than he’d expected, his gaze fixed on Jethro with an intensity that made his breath hitch.

Jethro fought to keep his expression steady, masking the flicker of surprise with a carefully measured indifference. But inside, his heart was racing, a conflicted mix of unease and a warmth he stubbornly refused to name, swirling in his chest as he held Sebastian’s gaze. The Alpha’s cool, polished exterior betrayed nothing, but there was something else—a charged intensity in his light eyes, a smoldering watchfulness that lingered a heartbeat too long. The faintest hint of a smirk played at Sebastian’s lips, a playful edge that only deepened the unsettling tension between them, as if he was enjoying whatever unspoken power he knowingly or unknowingly—likely the former—held over Jethro in that moment.

“Important call, was it? Careful, babe,” Sebastian drawled, a hint of a smirk curving his lips. “People might start to think you’re sneaking off to take calls from a secret paramour. Scandalous, don’t you think?”

There was an almost imperceptible edge beneath the playful tone, but Sebastian’s control was ironclad, letting only the faintest suggestion of something darker slip through his lighthearted facade.

“Hmm,” Jethro replied with an eye roll. “Something I imagine you’d be quite used to.”

Without waiting for a response, he continued, “The call was just some business back at the shop. Nothing major.” His tone was dismissive, making it clear he didn’t intend to elaborate. They might be playing the part of a couple, but that was all it was—playing. Sebastian didn’t need, nor was he entitled to, any further details about his personal life.

Sebastian’s smirk didn’t falter, but something subtle shifted in his gaze, a flicker of something unreadable that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He maintained his easy, controlled demeanor, yet the idea that someone else, someone like Isaac, having more of Jethro’s attention and trust than he did wasn’t a pleasant thought for the Alpha—yet he masked it with practiced ease, though it lingered, buried just beneath the surface.

Jethro’s jaw tightened, his gaze shifting to the side in an attempt to ignore the heat radiating from the Alpha, who now seemed closer than ever. The weight of Sebastian’s attention was like an itch under his skin, one he couldn’t scratch without giving away that he felt it at all. But Sebastian was relentless, his tone dripping with playful mischief as he continued.

Sebastian’s smirk deepened, clearly reveling in the way Jethro’s patience frayed at the edges, each comment poking at a nerve he could feel twitching. He leaned in slightly, the casual stance concealing a more deliberate purpose, as though he knew exactly what effect he had on Jethro—and enjoyed every second of it.

“Come on now, babe,” Sebastian murmured, his voice a low, teasing hum. “You’re standing here alone, brooding away from all the excitement. Anyone else might think you’re waiting for someone.”

Jethro rolled his eyes, forcing a dismissive chuckle. “Chill on the pet names, would you? And if I am, they’re taking their sweet time getting here,” he replied, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Sebastian’s smirk didn’t waver, his gaze fixed on Jethro with an almost predatory glint. “Oh, don’t tell me I’m cramping your style,” he teased, tilting his head as if genuinely curious. “I’d hate to think I’m keeping you from… better company.”

Jethro scoffed, crossing his arms. “Trust me, anyone else would be a breath of fresh air right now.”

Sebastian’s smirk deepened as he took a deliberate step forward, his broad frame inching closer. Instinctively, Jethro took a step back, only to feel the solid stone of the balcony’s ledge press against his spine, leaving him effectively pinned in place.

Sebastian took a step closer, invading Jethro’s space in that way only Alphas seemed to know how to do. “It’s not so bad, is it? All of this. I think everyone’s taken a liking to you. Even the skeptics can’t help but be charmed.”

Jethro scoffed. “Charmed. Right. Like a snake is charmed by a flute.”

“You’re not a snake, Jethro. You’re a diamond—beautiful and rare.”

“I’m not a jewel, Sebastian. I’m a person. And I don’t appreciate jewelry metaphors.”

“It’s not a metaphor. You really are one of a kind.”

Jethro rolled his eyes. “And suddenly, I’m wondering if you’re getting a little too into this.”

Sebastian chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent an involuntary shiver down Jethro’s spine. “Maybe I am,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over Jethro’s figure with an intensity that made Jethro’s pulse quicken. “Or maybe it’s just you… looking so innocent and pristine in that outfit. Makes me wonder if the rest of you is as untouched as you look right now.”

Jethro’s eyes narrowed, an incredulous eyebrow lifting as he shot back, “Is that your attempt at subtlety, or did you think that was actually charming?”

Sebastian smirked, unbothered by Jethro’s glare. “Depends. Is it working?” he asked, a glint of teasing mischief in his eyes that bordered on smug satisfaction.

Sebastian’s gaze didn’t waver as he took a slow, deliberate step closer, bridging the space between them on the secluded balcony. Jethro felt his back brush against the cool stone ledge, trapped by the Alpha’s nearness and the simmering, almost possessive glint in Sebastian’s eyes—a look that seemed at odds with his otherwise smooth, controlled demeanor. “Relax, Jethro,” he murmured, his voice infuriatingly casual, as if they were alone and not playing this dangerous game in the middle of a high-society spectacle. “You’re wound tighter than that corset they’ve got you in.”

Jethro’s irritation flared instantly, his jaw tightening as he shot back, “Forgive me if I’m not as comfortable as you in this overpriced parade.” He could feel Sebastian’s gaze sweeping over him, lingering on the way his fitted vest hugged his frame, emphasizing each curve and line he’d rather downplay. The Alpha’s eyes drifted with an almost unrestrained focus, catching on the snug fit of his clothes as if trying to brand the sight into memory.

Sebastian’s smirk deepened, though a subtle tension remained beneath it, something unspoken shadowing the amusement in his gaze. “On the contrary,” he replied, voice dropping to a warm, velvety murmur, “you look right at home in all that gold. In fact, you’re the only thing here worth admiring.” His gaze trailed down slowly, like he was savoring every inch, before he added with a slight edge, “And I intend to enjoy the view.”

Jethro’s cheeks flushed, an uncomfortable blend of anger and an unwelcome warmth stirring in his chest. “Keep talking like that,” he muttered, barely restraining his irritation, “and people might start to think you’re actually serious about this little charade.”

Sebastian’s chuckle was low and unapologetic, his breath brushing Jethro’s ear as he leaned in, closer than necessary. “Oh, I am serious,” he whispered, his tone carrying a note that was both a dare and a challenge, layered with something deeper and harder to define. “The question is…are you?”

Jethro held Sebastian's gaze, refusing to let the Alpha’s words unnerve him. “I think you’re confusing commitment with convenience,” he replied, his voice a low murmur edged with challenge. “Let’s not pretend either of us are doing this for any reason other than appearance and financial gain.”

Sebastian’s smirk remained, but his eyes flickered with something darker, an intensity that made Jethro’s pulse quicken. “I don’t know, Jethro,” he murmured, his tone dropping to an intimate whisper as he leaned in even closer. “From where I’m standing, this doesn’t feel like just appearances.” His gaze traveled over Jethro’s face, lingering on his lips with a heat that was impossible to ignore.

Jethro’s breath caught for a fraction of a second before he forced a scoff, tilting his chin up defiantly. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who flirts with half the city. Spare me the fake sentiment.”

Sebastian chuckled softly, the sound vibrating in the narrow space between them. “Oh, believe me, baby, if I wanted to be fake, I’d be a lot less… explicit.” His gaze turned unabashedly suggestive, trailing down to the tailored vest hugging Jethro’s frame. “You’d be surprised at the things running through my mind right now. For instance…” He leaned in close enough that his breath brushed against Jethro’s ear, his next words a crude, whispered suggestion that left no room for misinterpretation.

Jethro’s eyes widened as the words sank in, his cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. He shot Sebastian a sharp look, his irritation barely masked by the forced calm in his voice. “You’re really pushing it tonight, you know that?”

Sebastian’s hand moved with a smooth, stealthy confidence, slipping onto Jethro’s waist before his grip tightened, grounding them both in a way that felt more like an unspoken command than a casual touch. His fingers pressed firmly, possessively, as he leaned down, his voice a low murmur with a trace of venom carefully veiled beneath its smoothness.

“Interesting choice, slipping away for that call,” he murmured, his tone deceptively light. “I don’t particularly enjoy competing for your attention—especially not with someone who seems all too eager to imagine himself as anything more than a temporary convenience.” He paused, letting the words settle with just enough weight, his gaze flicking to Jethro’s, unreadable yet quietly, pointedly, unwavering. “But I suppose even the unimportant ones can get ideas… if you indulge them enough.”

Sebastian’s gaze flicked back through the glass doors, where a cluster of guests lingered in muted conversation, though one in particular stood out. Tall, well-dressed, and with an air of effortless charm that drew more than a few glances, Marco Greenburg stood near the doorway, his eyes noticeably fixed on the balcony. Marco was a familiar presence in these circles, an Alpha with a family pedigree that ran close to the Sinclairs. Unlike Sebastian, however, Marco’s ambitions were rooted in outshining others rather than maintaining any real legacy—though lately, it seemed his interest in surpassing Sebastian extended beyond business or social clout.

Sebastian’s lip curled in subtle irritation, his hand tightening just enough at Jethro’s waist to pull him a fraction closer. “Looks like some others have also convinced themselves they stand a chance tonight,” he muttered, his voice holding a casual amusement laced with something sharper. “You haven’e been giving anyone any ideas, have you?” Though his words were light, there was an unmistakable edge beneath them, something cold and unyielding in the way his gaze lingered on Marco, and the way his fingers pressed with unspoken dominance into the smaller male’s waist.

Jethro’s gaze narrowed, catching the barely veiled possessiveness in Sebastian’s tone. “You know, for someone who was clear in the beginning this was all just for show, you’re sounding awfully like you’ve forgotten your own words,” he muttered, unable to mask the bite in his words.

Jethro’s gaze narrowed, his voice laced with a hint of defiance as he caught the underlying possessiveness in Sebastian’s tone. “Funny,” he murmured, a subtle edge sharpening his words. “For someone who was so clear at the start that this is all just an act, you’re starting to sound like you’ve forgotten your own rules.”

Sebastian’s smirk held steady, his tone light and laced with mock amusement. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t be letting anyone get the wrong idea—especially not your attentive little storekeeper, and certainly not Marco.” The playful edge in his words softened the warning, but his gaze told another story. His green eyes held a glint that was anything but casual, a subtle flash beneath the hooded lids and thick lashes that hinted at something unyielding. His mustache twitched as his lips curved into a lazy, almost smug smile, but there was a sharpness in his expression, a hint of tension around his jaw, betraying the playful tone he wore like a mask. For a heartbeat, the air between them crackled with a silent authority before the practiced charm slipped back into place, polished and impenetrable.

Before Jethro could gather a retort, Sebastian’s arm slid around his waist, drawing him in until their bodies were flush against one another, the closeness blurring lines that had been unspoken in their arrangement. Jethro’s spine stiffened, an involuntary rush of heat prickling along his skin as he registered the Alpha’s hand resting low, fingers splayed just above the curve of his backside—territorial, unwavering. Every nerve seemed to spark with awareness, a subtle thrill mingling with his irritation as Sebastian’s grip held him in place, unyielding and far too intimate for mere pretense.

“What are you—?”

Sebastian cut him off with a low, appreciative hum, his hand tracing the curve of Jethro’s waist as if testing the fit. “Remind me to tip the tailor extra at your next fitting,” he remarked, his tone light but his grip firm. “He certainly knows how to keep a guy’s eyes on the prize.”

Jethro felt his cheeks burn, a confusing blend of embarrassment, irritation, and a warmth he couldn’t quite shake settling over him. He shot a glare up at Sebastian, his own brown eyes narrowing. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Sebastian only smirked, clearly savoring the effect he was having. “I’ve been told.”

With that, Sebastian turned them around, directing them both back to the main event, putting back on his famous smile while keeping that same hand gripping into Jethro’s waist. The Omega looked up at him with an irritated glare, feeling how the hand crept lower, but Sebastian didn’t meet his gaze, keeping his eyes up and ahead of him.

Sebastian’s hand moved with a calculated, possessive ease as he turned them toward the main ballroom, his fingers slipping confidently to rest just above the curve of Jethro’s backside, a touch that sent a ripple of warmth through the snug fabric of his vest. The Alpha’s fingers pressed just below the small of his back, where the tailored slacks hugged Jethro’s rounded shape, their fit intentionally designed to catch the eye.

Sebastian’s grip tightened subtly, an unspoken assertion that felt as much like a warning as it did a reassurance—a mix of dominance and protectiveness that made Jethro’s pulse spike against his will. The Omega could feel each press of Sebastian’s fingers, a possessive warmth grounding him in a way that was both frustrating and oddly comforting. With that confident smile, Sebastian guided them back into the heart of the event, his arm possessively secure around Jethro’s waist, the silent statement to their audience unmistakable: Jethro was his tonight, an alluring prize wrapped in gold and white elegance, and no one was to forget it.

Jethro shot Sebastian a glare, his irritation evident, but Sebastian’s gaze remained fixed ahead, ignoring the heated look from the Omega at his side. “Relax,” Sebastian murmured, low and smooth, his tone somewhere between gentle and commanding. “Just play the part.”

Jethro gritted his teeth, forcing himself to relax beneath the Alpha's commanding touch, even as the firm grip sent an involuntary tingle through his skin, an uneasy thrill he was reluctant to name. Sebastian’s towering frame and powerful shoulders, wrapped in his opulent white suit that drew every eye in the room, exuding both authority and allure. The suit’s golden embellishments caught the light with each movement, emphasizing his broad chest and tapered waist in a way that seemed crafted to perfection.

As they stepped further into the ballroom, Sebastian’s hand shifted lower, his fingers always skimming just inches away from Jethro’s shapely ass but never taking the final stretch—a teasing touch that felt distinctly possessive, even protective. The subtle press of his hand sent an unmistakable message to the onlookers, a blend of dominance and reassurance that had Jethro’s pulse pounding, his mind a flurry of defiant irritation mixed with something inexplicably warmer.

“Care to dance?” Sebastian asked, his tone casual but with a glint of something deeper in his eyes.

Caught off guard, Jethro hesitated but eventually nodded, aware that declining would only raise questions. He allowed Sebastian to lead him onto the dance floor, the Alpha’s hand finding his waist as they moved together in time with the music. For a fleeting moment, Jethro let the room fade away, his focus shifting to the warmth of Sebastian’s hand and the steadiness of his hold.

But as they danced, a series of unwanted thoughts intruded. This was all just an act, wasn’t it? Yet, why did Sebastian’s touch feel so… anchored, as if grounding him in place? And why did the Alpha’s gaze flicker with a spark of something he couldn’t quite identify? Jethro’s mind buzzed with conflicted emotions—resentment, curiosity, and something dangerously close to longing.

Sebastian, however, seemed oblivious to Jethro’s internal turmoil, his gaze locked onto the Omega with an intensity that sent a shiver down Jethro’s spine. As the dance ended, the Alpha didn’t release him right away. Instead, he leaned down, his breath warm against Jethro’s ear as he murmured, “How about we seal the deal?” His voice held a playful lilt, but there was an edge beneath it, something darker glinting in his eyes that hinted this was more than just a casual suggestion.

They stepped off the dance floor, but before Jethro could fully process what was happening, Sebastian turned him slightly, positioning them where every curious gaze could find them. Then, with a boldness that sent a jolt through Jethro, the Alpha leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips—quick but firm, leaving a charged silence in its wake. Sebastian’s hand drifted lower, fully settling on Jethro’s ass in a way that felt deliberate, as if every onlooker needed reminding of exactly who the Omega was leaving with tonight.

Jethro’s mind spun, his heart racing as he registered the weight of Sebastian’s lips against his, the warmth of his hand, the shock from the crowd around them. The kiss was brief, but it left an indelible mark, a mixture of anger and a flutter of something he refused to name roiling within him. His warm brown skin flushed under the gaze of everyone around them, acutely aware of the whispers and speculative glances that spread like wildfire.

Sebastian, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, a smug pride radiating from him as he straightened and led Jethro through the crowd. He wore that famous smile, looking pleased not only with himself but also with the reaction he’d elicited from the room—and from Jethro. As they moved, Sebastian’s gaze caught Marco’s in the crowd, the other Alpha’s face unreadable but his eyes tracking Jethro with a mix of curiosity and envy.

Without breaking his stride, Sebastian shot Marco a pointed, victorious look, his hand tightening on Jethro’s waist as if to silently reiterate his claim. The thought of Marco—or anyone else, for that matter—thinking they had a chance with Jethro seemed to irk him more than he’d admit. He almost wished that another Alpha who’d been all too attentive to Jethro, someone with a lovestruck, naive air, had witnessed the display as well.

The evening stretched on with Sebastian glued to his side, his hand never straying far from Jethro’s body, a constant reminder of his presence and his unspoken message to anyone who dared look too long at the Omega. By the time Sebastian finally suggested they leave, Jethro’s patience was wearing thin, his emotions a tangled mess of irritation, confusion, and the lingering heat of that kiss.

“I think that’s enough excitement for one night,” Sebastian murmured, his voice low as he leaned in, his breath warm against Jethro’s ear. “Shall we call it a night?”

Jethro barely trusted himself to speak, nodding in agreement, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the ballroom and the endless scrutiny of the crowd. Sebastian took his hand without hesitation, leading him through the sea of onlookers with his head held high, his posture exuding pride and confidence. Jethro could feel the weight of their stares, the whispers that followed them like a trail, while Sebastian appeared unfazed, almost as if he thrived on it.

In that moment, a thought surfaced, one that sent Jethro’s stomach twisting in a strange mix of nerves and exhilaration. For a heartbeat, it didn’t feel like Sebastian was playing a part anymore—and the realization left him both unsettled and unexpectedly drawn in, like a flutter of butterflies he couldn’t ignore.

This story concludes on Patreon...

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A quick (it was going to be quick, but this turned out to be a lie) “Tech Lives” thought:

This is something I already covered in this post, but the placement of and the way Tech’s sacrifice works in the structure of “The Summit” and “Plan 99” is really weird if it’s intended as a genuine character death. Basically, tl;dr for the original post: it functions as a plot point/catalyst to get the rest of the episode moving, not as a send off/death for a major character, which is a large part of why it doesn’t read as a character death at all to more casual viewers (and why I kind of suspect the writers/showrunners didn’t intend it to be read that way).

I just finished summarizing “Truth and Consequences” and “The Crossing,” to my (still long-suffering) little brother, and they way those two episodes work together has kind of hammered home the point about Tech’s sacrifice not functioning in episode as a character death even more for me. Echo leaves—just leaves! He doesn’t even die, and he says it’s not forever and that he’s coming back—at the end of “Truth and Consequences,” and then that’s followed up with an entire episode about the other characters dealing with his absence. We get a character departure and then a whole episode about the aftermath of that loss. And that’s important, not just for the characters, but also for the audience, especially if you keep in mind that as dark as The Bad Batch gets, the target audience is kids around Omega’s age—ten to thirteen(1).

And, if we look at Rebels(2), which is the closest of the animated shows to The Bad Batch in terms of the kind of story it’s telling, it’s pretty consistent with the way that show handled the send off of a character the protagonist saw as a parent/older sibling. Kanan dies at the end of “Jedi Knight,” and then the follow up episode—“Dume”—is just about everyone else coming to terms with their grief.

Tech’s “death,” though? Six-minutes, forty-odd seconds into a twenty-something minute episode PACKED with other big plot points, leaving the other characters in shock and giving all of them—especially Omega—about ten seconds to sit with that shock before things keep happening, and then another thirty or so seconds later on to acknowledge their grief and shock again before the plot comes at them all like a freight train through the crystal palace. They’re not allowed to process it, and because they’re not, neither are we.

Which is all the more striking because there was absolutely a way to give Tech a definitive death and give the characters (and us) time to deal with it. Make “The Summit” three minutes longer. Maybe even two. Cut out the rigamarole with Tech running back to the cable car, the cable car getting shot, and Tech dangling at the end of the line. Have him call “Plan 99” choose to stay behind at the control panel because that’s the only way to get the cable car moving again. Have him send a signal to the car sends it hurtling away while the others are screaming at him to stop and get back on board and Echo is trying to get it to stop but can’t, because Tech’s overridden the signal. Show Tech getting shot down by one of the stormtroopers or a v-wing if you have to as he’s holding his place at the panel. You can keep Omega yelling at everyone to go back, keep Wrecker telling Tech not to do it, keep Tech’s last line as is. End “The Summit” with the cable car crash and then begin the next episode with the sequence of the rest of the batch running for the Marauder as Omega drifts in an out of consciousness.

Doing this, killing Tech off in a slightly different way at the end of “The Summit” rather than a quarter of the way through “Plan 99,” would have kept Tech sacrificing himself, but would have also (potentially) shown us a body and given the other characters (and the audience) time to process his death in the next episode before the other plot points started happening. It would have read as a definitive character death. Instead, the writers/showrunners decided to have Tech “die” in an incredibly non-definitive way in a situation that directly parallels what happened in “Faster” and allows for the appearance of that ice-vulture/survivor imagery we already saw with Crosshair, and which leaves everyone with no body AND absolutely no time to process it as a death.

So, anyway, Tech’s extremely alive.

1. I know people get kind of defensive when people say that The Bad Batch is a kids’ show, but I think that’s because we tend to use “kids’ show” as a pejorative. I’m not. When I say that The Bad Batch is for kids first and foremost, I don’t mean that it’s simple or bad or not worthwhile—I mean it as a point of high praise. It’s a kids show that goes some heavy places and refuses to speak down to kids, which is great. Kids ought to have good tv, too, and it ought to come in a variety of flavors.

2: I know we tend to like to compare The Bad Batch to The Clone Wars, but Rebels really is the closest parallel. Rebels was another linear story with a limited focus on one group of characters and definite start and end points. The Clone Wars was a sweeping anthology series both produced and aired in a non-chronological order, and which, as far as I can tell, was basically designed to go on ad infinitum until it either got cancelled (which is what happened) or they ran out of ideas, at which point they would do the Revenge of the Sith overlap stuff (what they did once they were allowed to bring it back and finish it off).

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Tarnished 6.3

Masterlist

~1.3k words | Original Work: Tarnished Content: omegaverse, noncon aftermath, tiny bit of fluff, power dynamics

At some point, Letin had fallen asleep, because he woke up as someone settled against him. Besan. His head rested against Letin's back and he loosely held onto Letin's shirt.

"You s-smell like her," the prince murmured.

Of course he would after sharing a cycle with her, no matter that he had washed. "Do you want I should leave?"

The hands tightened, which Letin took as a 'no.'

"I'm sorry," Besan said.

Letin puzzled over that, turning his head. Besan's grip tightened. Remembering his promise, the consort fell still. "Why?"

Besan's head curled in further. "I like your h-hair too."

That... he didn't know how to respond. Letin knew he was beautiful and his exotic features made him particularly striking, and Besan No one had ever apologized for enjoying his appearance, for looking at him like he was... ornamentation.

In that moment, it felt worth it to have endured all these years of people admiring and touching him, just for Besan to see it.

"Don't..." Letin started, voice soft. Clearing his throat, he said again, "Don't be." Heat touched his cheeks. Was he actually blushing? When was the last time he'd done that? "How a—" No, stupid question. "I... Could I... help you with food? A bath? Do your injuries need re-bandaging?"

Besan shifted. "...P-Probably..."

"...May I?"

A few moments passed before Besan nodded against Letin's back, fabric slipping from his hold. Letin pushed himself up, leaving the bed to go first to the door to retrieve the key for Besan's cuff and send for Rillis to return. Placing a hand an inch away from his eyes, he approached the prince once more.

"What are you doing?" Besan wondered.

Letin shut his eyes as he took a knee next to the bed, tracing his fingers along fabric to find his target. "I swore I would not look, your highness."

A hand cupped his cheek, halting all progress. "J-just Besan," the prince reminded in a murmur. "Please."

Letin felt himself color lightly again. "Besan," he said softly, thoughtlessly tipping his head into the hand. Warmth radiated through him from the touch.

"..open y-your eyes," Besan said.

Letin did so slowly. Besan was as unkempt as the smell suggested, his hair bedraggled, a scruffy beard on his chin, and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"There you are," Letin murmured, returning the gesture of cupping a cheek. "Not so monstrous, after all."

A pained mirth cracked Besan's expression, giving sorrow an escape. His breath caught as tears welled up, and he turned his face away, covering it with his arm. Letin's immediate instinct was to drape himself on the fellow omega, but held himself back; he, too, could never forget the panic from having a body on his own.

Instead, from the foot of the bed, Letin crawled up next to Besan, hands and forehead flat on his back. Soon, Besan turned into Letin, who wrapped him in a careful embrace.

It was all the comfort Letin had to offer; everything else would be a lie, like how Papa had once said things would turn out 'okay.' Letin had never stopped being a tool to sate others' desires; he hadn't even been able to live at home. Such trite nonsense would be an insult.

A polite and familiar knock came before Besan's tears had dried up.

"Wait," Letin called, raising himself on an arm. To Besan, he softly said, "That will be Rillis now. Can I help you to the bath?"

Besan nodded miserably, and Letin unlocked the cuff before coaxing him from the bed and into the adjoining bathroom. Besan moved stiffly and with a limp, but was nowhere near as weak as he had been last time they had made this journey. Letin set him on a stool before exiting the bathroom.

"Rillis, enter," he called.

"The door is locked, Master," came the muffled reply.

Strange. He didn't remember locking it, nor had he heard her try the handle, but Rillis should have a key anyways. Brow furrowed, he strode over and checked the mechanism.

She had lied. The realization put him on guard. He latched and unlatched the lock to play along. "My apologies," he commented as he opened the door with an easy smile, immediately catching Lokas' presence behind the servant.

"Thank you," Rillis said as she slipped past Letin with a worried glance.

"My princess," Letin greeted with a polite bow, wetting his lips. "I did not expect to find you here."

"I heard that Besan has been struggling," she said. "And I had a break from my work, so I came to comfort him."

Hearing her so freely use Besan's name without title was... unsettling to Letin, he found, as he thought of Besan cupping his cheek. Far be it from him to judge a royal, but to have such a privilege assumed, rather than given, was upsetting after the raw emotions Letin and Besan had shared here.

Perhaps this frustration embolden Letin, but he could not allow Lokas to trespass again into this place. Besan had to have somewhere safe from her reach, if there was hope of him recovering in any meaningful way. It's the least—the only thing I can do.

Letin set himself in the doorway, feeling his heart pick up speed. "You may not enter."

Lokas' eyes narrowed on him. "What?"

Heat colored his cheeks as he raised his chin. Inside his sleeves, his hands trembled. He believed what he'd said, that if forced to choose, Lokas would pick Besan over Letin, but he also trusted Lokas' greed. She wanted them both. No, the gamble he was taking was how severe punishment for opposing her might be.

"My lady," Letin said, "as first consort of your harem, I forbid you entry." He lowered his voice and his eyes—the only deference he dared show, lest she doubt his conviction. "I beseech you, Alpha."

Lokas reached out and Letin tensed, but she only set her hand on his throat. He met her gaze, deliberately waiting a beat before baring his neck, her mark still red from their recent coupling.

She gave a voiceless snort, then let her hand fall. "In light of your position, I will honor this request, though I am eager to meet with my husband."

Letin said nothing, but glanced pointedly to her unmarred neck, earning a flash of annoyance.

"Husband-to-be," she corrected, mouth turned down.

Finally, Letin bowed. "Thank you, my lady alpha."

"Please give this token of my favor to Besan," she said, removing her shawl.

"As you wish," he said as he took it, though he was well aware how such a gift would be received. "As I will be attending my fellow omega, please excuse me from duties for a few days."

"Of course," she said, frown deepening.

Letin raised his hand to her face and she reciprocated, the two of them brushing their scent on each other in farewell. Lokas then retreated and Letin was able to close the door. He set a hand against the wood, leaning into it as he let out a long breath, listening to Lokas' vanishing footsteps. That went... very well.

He turned with a sigh, shawl in hand. "Make sure this gets to the laundry? Discreetly."

"Certainly, Master," Rillis said, sitting back on her heels to talk with him, "but it may be wiser to air it out, then place it in the wardrobe. Princess Lokas already seems less than pleased with you."

He considered it, then draped the shawl on the window. "Wise, as always."

She winked. "It's what I'm here for. I'll be out of here before you're back from the bath with his highness."

"Thank you."

taglist: @whump-worls​ @emcscared-whumps @nicolepascaline​ @sadcatjae​ @despairdragon​ @flat-san @nabanna

[sleepdeprivedartboi]

LONG FANBOYING OVER CRPG GAMES AHEAD .

I fucking love being the good guy in rpg games. And it's even better when the game rewards you just for being nice and not going around killing shit for xp. Or when being good isn't like...boring.

It's so wholesome seeing the NPCs thank me and stuff and be happy and it makes me smile that I made people's lives better. It may not make much difference and it may only be a single line of dialogue but I feel nice. This is especially true in CRPGs like Baldurs gate 3, Pillars of eternity, Pathfinder WOTR and Divinity Original Sin 2. Like in those games being good is much fun! Of course there are limits like I'm obviously not gonna let a child torturer roam free without breaking atleast 4 of his limbs and asking him if he'll mend his ways. Everyone receives 2 strikes for me, On the 3rd strike, I shall promptly make sure their free trial of life expires.

Like I had such joy being nice in Baldurs gate 3 and Pathfinder WOTR, cuz like in those games being good has like a domino effect where doing good leads to some bad stuff where you have to do good again, and at the end it becomes omega good. Obviously this makes the game more tricky and difficult and may be seen as "tiresome" to some, But I like helping NPCs and seeing them smile.

Moreover whenever I tell this to people, half of them are always like "Being that good and trusting is naive" , "real life is not that good" , "Less xp why not kill them" , "But they are the enemy faction" .... So? This is a fantasy game and my fantasy is to be the biggest good guy to ever good in the history of good guys, I will save everyone and try to help everyone. is it the most logical action? No. Do I care? No. I will help everyone regardless , I will make the game harder for myself, don't care, I'll still be a good guy. I've always wanted to be a Jedi since I was a kid, and so I live like a Jedi.

[steterismylife]

Takeover

(the original a/b/o one? Lmao. I think it’s not supposed to be Deacon but like… the big bad Alpha pack leader? This was written a long ass time ago tbh.)

“He’s here, sire,” Scott bowed as he led a dirty boy into the throne room.

The man on the chair hummed, then smirked. “My name is Peter Hale, and I am the ruler of this kingdom. I must ask why you were trespassing on my lands!” Peter’s voice boomed, and the boy stood straight as Scott pushed him forward.

The boy lost his footing and fell to his knees. He hissed at the pain, then looked up at Peter. “I'm not telling you shit.”

Peter sneered at his attitude but waved Scott off before he could strike the boy. Peter took a couple of steps toward the boy and grabbed him by his hair. He bends his head back at an awkward angle, causing him to cry out. “Tell me your name, boy.”

“Stiles.”

Peter rose an eyebrow at the name but was satisfied as he threw Stiles to the side. “Again, I ask why you are trespassing on my land,” Peter repeated.

“You should kill him.” A voice boomed as it entered the throne room, and Peter rolled his eyes.

“No one asked for your opinion, Lord Deacon,” Peter said as he looked at the man walking towards them.

“Well, have him work as a servant until he wants to talk. Punish him each day that he doesn't talk, or will you not take advice from your war council?” Deacon asked.

Peter scoffed at what the other suggested, then thought it over as he stared at Stiles. Maybe Deacon was right. Holding the boy here until he spoke would be the best course of action because he didn't know why and Stiles wasn't talking. Stiles hadn't even acknowledged Peter had spoken to him again.

“Great idea, Deacon.” Peter praised his war council. “From this day on, then, you'll be a servant in this castle until you learn to respect me, you scum. Get him out of my sight!”

Scott rushed over and then forced Stiles up, who swatted at his hands, but he got pushed, and he fell onto his knees before being forced up again. Stiles glared at Peter as he was escorted out of the throne room.

“Isn't taking a stray omega in kind of risky?” Deacon asked Peter.

“I don't think so,” Peter said, then turned toward Deacon. “Most omega's are only useful for bearing children. We both know this, so I don't know why you’re worried about Stiles.” Peter walked to the throne, and his fingers rubbed over the singe marks on the chair.

“Glad you chose to take the omega in then.” Deacon told Peter as he walked closer to him. “It's the right course of action. You must make your nephew your heir if the former heir that got away gets revenge on you.” Deacon informed Peter, who scoffed.

“I know he was there when I started the slaughter of his parents, but he disappeared afterward.” Peter leaned back as he gripped the arms of the chair. “I have already told Derek he has no choice in being my heir.

[ashes-2-ashes57cba]

The Bad Batch: Valkyrie

Episode 3: The Solitary Clone (part 1)

This is something new. While the title may be the same, this episode does NOT follow Crosshair and Cody's story. This is an original episode that will follow Specter! I hope you like it :) warnings: references to Cher, references to the Great Gatsby, smoking

Tech carefully concentrated on his work; the flight console needed maintenance, and he was more than happy to take the time and accomplish the task. He rather enjoyed the silence and peace of working alone. Wrecker and Echo were relaxing at Cid’s parlor, and last he knew, Specter was giving Omega another combat lesson with Hunter’s supervision and participation.

“Hey, Tech,” Specter’s voice cut through his silence. He startled a little, jumping his head on the panels above him. “Sorry!” she sheepishly apologized as he slid out and rubbed his head.

“Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with worse,” he said. “I thought you were training Omega with Hunter.”

“Oh, uh,” she hesitated. She thought of the two now, currently in their bunks after an exhausting sparring session, resting their sore bodies and nursing any bruises. “They’re taking a break,” she excused, running a hand through her hair. “How’s the leg?” She gestured to the bandages still wrapped around his left leg.

“Ah, much better. I will be back to a more than satisfactory status with some exercise,” he said. 

“Great!” A silence passed between the two as though Specter were waiting for something else to happen; she wrung her fingers together, and her feet shifted. “Do you need any help?” she asked, almost hopefully. 

“I do not. I am quite capable of finishing repairs on my own,” he answered. Specter deflated, but she tried not to show it.

“Oh… okay then.” Tech’s head tilted in curiosity, analyzing her stance and tone. He knew he may not always be emotionally aware, but Specter’s downtrodden demeanor was quite obvious. 

“Specter, you have now started to find constant activity and stimulation more than you usually would and more than I usually would,” he said, “What appears to be wrong?” She slowly sat down, hugging a leg and resting her chin on her knee, facing him but not meeting his concerned gaze.

“I still can’t read it. And now, if I’m not doing anything, I end up thinking about it when I don’t want to,” she admitted. He sighed, knowing she was talking about what they dubbed, the Valkyrie File. 

“If I may be blunt?” he asked, remembering Omega’s advice that not everyone wants honesty all the time. 

“I can’t stop you.”

“You must get through that obstacle and either read it in full, or completely purge it from your mind. Otherwise the distraction will make you a liability,” he said. Specter scoffed.

“Well, that’s putting it gently,” she said with a rueful smile. “I know you’re right. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to move on once I read it. I don’t want to change.” Tech took a breath, hoping with sincerity that his words would reach her. 

“Specter,” he started, adjusting his goggles, “change is inevitable. The chances of whether the change will be good or bad is perfectly balanced. Although, knowing you, I do not think your change will be a negative one.” It seemed to strike a chord with her. When she didn’t respond, the words echoing in her head and throughout her body, Tech ducked underneath the control panel again and began to work once more. She sat there, watching him in silence until her comm chimed.

“Go,” she answered.

“Cid asked for you. Said she’s got a job,” Echo reported.

“Yeah, and she said that bringing the others are ‘optional’,” Wrecker added. Tech didn’t react to the message and she knew Omega would still need to rest. 

“Okay, I’ll bring Hunter. En route,” she sighed, standing herself up and making her way over to Hunter’s bunk.

“So you want us to steal treasure, again? After what happened last time?” Hunter questioned, incredulously. 

“Of course not! I want her to steal a particular piece of treasure. There’s a difference,” Cid clarified, pointing at Specter, then the projection of the diamond she had tasked her to steal. 

“It’s not even the real diamond. Why bother?” Echo asked.

“Because it’s an excellent copy,” Cid said, quieting everyone and gaining their interest. “Very few people know it’s a fake. And those who know it’s a fake are smart about it and keep it to themselves; it passes every test and inspection. I need it so I can dupe a buddy into thinking I’m paying him what he’s owed.”

“Well, how much is this fake one worth?” Wrecker asked.

“A million credits, give or take,” the Trandosshan shrugged.

“Then how much do you owe?” he asked, stunned at the amount of credits.

“More than a million,” Cid rolled her eyes. “A lot more.”

“How do you end up owing that much money?” Hunter asked, seething. Cid waved it off, obviously ashamed and unwilling to go into much detail.

“It was a recent business venture that didn’t turn out so good. But who cares—are you doing it or not, sweetheart?” Cid wanted a final answer, turning her sneer to the woman, who had only been listening and absorbing rather than contributing to the conversation. Hunter noticed she was gripping her arm rather tightly and bore her eyes into the image of the diamond and the mansion it was housed in. Specter turned and walked away.

It was dark inside and out; most of Ord Mantell City was asleep, including the occupants of the Marauder. All except for Specter, who had gone straight to her bunk after walking out of Cid’s, but had failed to fall asleep. No one had tried to talk to her about the mission or anything else, probably at Hunter’s request. 

Tech’s warning—the possibility of her becoming a liability—echoed in her head, along with every other troublesome thought. Cid trusted her with a job, they all trusted her with their lives, and yet she couldn’t even trust herself. Tears escaped from the corner of her eyes as she willed herself to reach over and grab a datapad, plugging in the Valkyrie file. Anything beyond the introduction was a mystery.

“Change is inevitable,” she heard Tech’s voice. It was amplified by whispers, more and more of them until she realized it was the Valkyries.

Now I’m really going crazy, Specter thought, shaking her head. The Valkyries—her sisters—refuted the fact, encouraging her to read the file. Here goes, I guess.

Supplementary log: Author: REDACTED While training regimens and weapons have been designed for the Valkyries to achieve the utmost success, it will all be made moot if the sororal bonds are not properly cultivated and implemented. Individually, they must all be able to withstand near-extreme strains that would be caused by frontline combat while also being able to excel within coordinated team attacks. Yet, that is merely the physical aspect that must be trained; the emotional relations—best described as that of a sisterhood—must not be forced, yet its presence is imperative. Without that bond, the Valkyries as a whole will fail. Even if individual specimens are strong enough to succeed, they will not be able to meet the expected results set forth by the program. In the case of the project’s failure, it is possible for an individual to excel without the desired support from the Valkyries or any other teammates, but too many variables are present to accurately calculate the possibility. That is all to say that this is an attempt to do something never done—intentionally—in the history of Kamino’s cloning: to create a family. 

She stopped reading, unable to see through her tears. She put down her datapad and took a steadying breath, wiping her eyes. Not just because the information was too much for her, but because it had taken her months to reach this moment where she figured out what was wrong and accepted it. 

She was grieving. For the life she never had and the part of her she thought she knew. It was a life she would never be able to get back; even if Crosshair came back and they were together once more, it would not be the same. She had to let her brother go and embrace what she had now.

The Valkyries—her sisters that never made it to life—haunted her dreams, whispered in her ear as Cid had shown them the diamond she wanted stolen, sang to her on Serenno to calm her. Throughout the time she had “known” them, Specter did her best to ignore their presence and shut them out; it had only ever brought her turmoil, nothing she did felt right. But now, as she let them dry her tears, she wanted to listen to them and let them guide her. She wanted to see what kind of Valkyrie she could be, rather than keep living the lie that she was a clone. It’s why she turned down Cid’s job; a clone, even one of her standing, would have no training for anything the mission could entail, let alone be assigned to anything of the sort. 

But Specter knew it was what the Valkyries were made for: what she was made for. Whether she liked it or not, she was born a Valkyrie, and it was time she started acting like it. 

The Trandosshan groaned, stirring her porridge as she entered her office. Cid was still slightly hungover from last night and getting up in the early morning was no help to her. She was still riding on the bet that Specter would change her mind and take the job, but with the way the boys have been worrying about her, she couldn’t be too sure. Cid would either have to find someone else to do the job, or find a way to accumulate the money she owed, which was not preferable in her taste. Placing her breakfast on her desk, she turned, grabbed one of her checking books and went to take a seat.

Cid gasped in surprise, startled by Specter’s sudden appearance in front of her.

“Jeez, it’s too early. What do you want?” she hissed.

“I’ll do it,” the woman simply said. Cid smiled, interlacing her claws.

“Well then, I can’t wait to get started.”

“The plan itself is so simple, if you somehow managed to get it wrong, I would be very insulted. I came across an invitation to some rich and pretentious party, hosted by some fellow with the name Jaerono Gatsaebyn, and swiped it before it got to its destination. It’s well known that currently possesses the… ah the name is too long-”

“The Heart of the Eternal White Point Star.”

“Thanks, Shorty. Anyway, it’s not as valuable as the real thing, but my ‘buddy’ and Mister Gatsaebyn are idiots, so they’ve got no clue. Security for the night is going to be loose enough so our leading lady here can sneak right in.”

“So I get in while you guys monitor me, get the diamond, and get out.”

“And you’re sure you can do it, Specter?”

“More than sure, Sarge.”

Specter gingerly made her way up the stone steps leading to the grand manor, picking up her dress so she wouldn’t trip on the fine fabric. She wore heels and a red, shimmering, floor length gown that hugged her torso and hung down from her hips with a slit up the side of her leg. A fur wrap covered her collar, shoulders, and back. Shimmering gloves covered her arms, and more importantly, her tattoo sleeve; and much to her protest, the maroon and teal dye was washed out of her hair and styled to the best of their ability. She carried herself as though she were a noble socialite like the guests that made their way up the stairs. Her confidence never faltered as she approached the single guard at the door, calmly handing him the invitation. The man scanned: she knew he would find the invite genuine.

“Enjoy the party, Miss Valentine Pierce,” he said with a smile and a nod. She jutted her chin and entered the lively house. 

“‘Valentine Pierce’? She seems a bit pretentious, Tech.”

“She is an heiress and debutante. She bears a similar likeness to you, surprisingly.”

“How do we know the real Valentine won’t turn up?” asked Hunter.

“Miss Pierce was last seen on a private cruise with her current lover.”

“I didn’t know you read the tabloids.” Tech glared at Specter. “Well, with the dress I’ve got, I think I’ll be convincing enough.” 

“I’m in,” she muttered into the comm hidden beneath her glove. In her other glove, a beacon that would allow Tech to track her and ping her signal throughout the household, allowing them to map out the household.

“Copy. Standby while we find the control room,” Omega came through her hidden earpiece. Specter grabbed a flute of champagne as she stepped into the ballroom; she couldn’t help but marvel at the architecture and atmosphere. Polished floors, light fixtures of crystal, intricately carved wood: she’d call it a palace. A small group of musicians were fixated on a circular stage in the center of the dance floor, guests danced in rings around it.

She was both enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life, Specter knew at least Omega would find the whole thing entertaining, and also knew the boys had no taste for such finery; the Valkyries fluttered in her thoughts, seemingly enjoying themselves. She wove in between guests, nodding to those who acknowledged her presence. 

“Spec?” Hunter came through.

“Go.”

“Head towards the eastern stairwell, just past the kitchens.”

“Copy.” Specter finished her champagne and placed the empty glass on a passing tray; as soon as she stepped to leave, someone tapped her shoulder.

“Might I have this dance, Miss Pierce?” A bright blue Pantoran with golden hair offered his hand to her. She wanted to refuse, but didn’t want to risk appearing out of character to the real Valentine. So she smiled and placed her hand in his.

“You may indeed,” she said in a lilted accent. The man escorted her to the dance floor just as a waltz began to play. Specter had taught herself to dance as an imaginative girl, but she had brushed up on any information she could cram in before the mission. The whirling 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, was more fun than she’d like to admit, but she couldn’t help but smile as she danced with the man. “Have you been to many of these before?” she dared to strike up conversation.

“Believe it or not, I haven't,” the Pantoran admitted. “I’ve been to a few here or there, but nothing as grand as this.”

“Mister Gatsaebyn knows how to throw a party,” she said with a giggle. “I’ve never actually met him.”

“No one has, from what I heard,” he said as he spun her around. “Apparently, no one even knows what he looks like. People just know him from his parties and wealth.” Specter only hummed in response. 

“I wonder why a recluse would host a party, but attend like a mere guest,” she wondered.

“Perhaps for the chance to dance with a lovely woman like you,” the man said with a smile. She was caught off-guard by the compliment, almost missing the end of the waltz. Specter quickly recovered and bowed to her partner, walking with him to the edge of the dancefloor as another dance started… right by the kitchens. “I suppose I should offer to get you a drink, but then I’d be jealous of the glass,” he flirted. 

“I wonder how often that line works for you,” she teased, having to give him credit for the bold approach. 

“As often as you'd like, Miss Pierce,” he said with a wink. She smirked. 

“...If you're patient enough, good sir. Until then, if you'll excuse me for some air?”

The man chuckled and kissed the top of her hand. “As you wish.” 

Specter smiled and turned to go, casually heading toward the doors to the kitchens until whispers in her head turned to shrieks of caution. The Valkyries were restless; instinctively she wanted to ignore them, but considered their warnings to abandon the set path. 

He’s still watching me, she realized. Specter winced as she passed by the kitchens and opened the glass doors to the balcony.

“I need a reroute. I had eyes on me and couldn’t go through the kitchen,” she reported into the comm, leaning over the rail. The Valkyries quieted to their dull hum, though she could easily imagine at least one of them smugly telling her they told her so.

“You're on the balcony closest to it?” Tech asked.

“Yes.” 

“On your right there is a window. Do not go through that one, enter the one below it. That will have you bypass the stairwell and place you in the hall where we need you,” he instructed. 

Specter looked over, indeed finding a window that looked into the kitchen. Staff hustled to refill drinks and organize hors d’oeuvres; something broke, followed by shouting. Below the scene was a window into a dim hallway, with one side opened; it was about fifteen feet off the ground, a fall she wouldn’t easily walk away from. She hissed, finding there was no easy way to climb into it, especially in heels. 

The window ledge from the kitchen stuck out far enough, but the staff would see her hands, and the frame from the window below was just under half an inch, her fingertips would never be able to hold on. With no other leverage, Specter considered cutting her losses and sticking to their original plan, even if she was spotted. 

But she took a breath and looked again, tilting her head before formulating an idea. Glancing behind her to make sure no one saw her through the glass doors, Specter climbed over the rail and wedged herself between the two windows, forming a solid triangle with her heels on the bottom frame, and her hands pressed against the upper ledge. 

Just as she was about to jump down, the other side of the window opened—her hand slipped as she quickly recovered—and a raspy voice was heard.

“Hey, the boss said no distractions,” said a man.

“I’m just taking a quick smoke. What are you, my professor?” said another, more playful voice, closer to the window, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep breath.

“Please, like you ever made it to school.”

Specter held her breath as a wisp of smoke flew up to her face; her hands and ankles ached, her fur wrap tickled her neck, but even so, she stayed perfectly still. Another puff of smoke rose up. 

“Where did you even get those?” the raspy one asked.

“The boss gave ‘em to me.”

“No he didn’t.”

“Fine. I found them in the study. You know, for a rich guy, this is one of the cheap ones,” the playful one said. 

“Who cares? Come on, we’re behind schedule,” the raspy one hissed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He took one last huff before flicking away the cigarette and walking away. Specter waited a few seconds, listening to the footsteps grow further away from the window, before swinging herself inside the hallway and pressing herself against the corner.

“I’m at the hallway, now what?” she whispered into her comm.

“Third door on the left side,” Tech instructed.

“Copy. Standby.” She waited as the guards’ footsteps disappeared past the other end of the hall, before cracking her neck and getting into character.

“Ddo You beilieeeeve in life after luuuuuv?!” Specter drunkenly sang, bursting into the room, stumbling in her heels. 

“Guest, you can not be in here,” the droid on guard stood up and replied, waving its arms as she wobbled closer.

“Oh quiet you,” she muttered, smacking at its hand. “‘M jus gonna be a bit, gotta fix mah haiyrrr.”

“Guest, you can not be in here,” the droid repeated.

“Yooooo sssound like a funny butler, hahaaa,” she draped her arms over the droid’s shoulders, brushing her fingers on the back of its head.

“What do we do about the security system?” Omega had asked.

“That’s the hard part. Gatsaeban has an older system, one that can’t be hacked into from any network or external force. It’s all controlled and monitored from a room inside,” Cid explained.

“Human or droid?” Specter asked.

“Droid. I found receipts of custom work he had done. It’s a combination GU-series Guardian police droid and a KX-series security droid; normally it patrols the property, but for the party, he’s keeping it in the security control room.”

“I can create an override switch, but Specter will have to access the charging port on the back of its head,” Tech offered.

“Done. Plus then we can kill two birds with one stone and find where exactly the diamond is,” said Specter.

“Guest, you must leave,” the droid ordered. Specter only smiled, slipping the chip out of her glove and inserting it into the droid’s charging port. The droid flailed its arms—she took a step back, ready to fight—before it went limp where it stood. 

“...Okay?” Specter whispered, wondering if anything went wrong.

Suddenly, the droid's eyes flickered and it hummed back to life, standing up straight and observing the room. It came upon her, slowly raising a hand and robotically waving it. 

“That you, Tech?” she asked. 

“I have access to its motor functions and data retrieval,” Tech said through the comm. Specter giggled.

“Alright then. Well, how much access to the house’s systems do you have?” Droid-Tech turned to the control console, taking inventory of what he could and couldn’t do.

“Not much. I can keep you off of cameras and get you through most doors. Cid was right, this system is old but secure.”

“What about the diamond?”

Droid-Tech walked—albeit, much like a newborn—to the access port, plugging in and scanning through the data with flashing eyes.

“Second floor. West wing. There is a private vault you should be able to access from the master closet,” Tech reported. “There is a service lift on your right when you exit this room; I'll be able to override it.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know when I’m up there,” Specter nodded, heading out the door and slipping into the lift. Once the doors closed and she started rising, she slouched and took a breath.

It felt strange to be on a mission without the others, but Specter also realized that she was excelling. The Valkyries fluttered and whispered their praises, though she swiped away at them.

Maybe I’ve just gotten too into it, she sighed to herself.

The lift stopped and the door opened to a dim hall. Specter peeked out the doors, finding there weren’t any guards in sight, before heading toward the Western wing. Oddly enough, doors were opened just enough to see what was inside. She passed by the study the guard from earlier had mentioned, as well as an observatory and a display room filled with antiquities and other treasures. But Specter continued on to find the-

“Master closet,” she whispered to herself, coming upon a large room, filled to the brim with luxurious clothes and accessories. “I’m here, Tech, but I don’t see any vault.”

“Try the right-hand wall,” he said. Specter pushed aside designer coats, capes, and everything that was in her way, growling in frustration when she was met with only a blank wall.

“Nothing.”

“That’s not possible. You’re standing right in front of it.” Specter clicked her tongue; if Tech sounded confused, then they were in real trouble. She knocked on the wall, finding that the section in front of her was indeed hollow, but there was no way—at least that Specter could see—to access the vault. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to figure out some sort of plan. 

I hate to do this, but we’re running out of time, she thought to herself, taking a breath and closing her eyes, listening to her inner self and the Valkyries. They whispered, convincing her to move. 

“Specter, where are you going?” Hunter came in. Her eyes snapped open.

“I guess to the main showroom. There’s something in here…” Specter slowly entered the chamber, marveling at the glittering jewels and exotic weapons. The Heart would not be in there, she knew that, but the Valkyries were restless nonetheless. 

Something out of the corner of her eye got her attention. A beautiful, single-edged axe was displayed on a pedestal; scratches and wear on the blade and handle told her the classic weapon had seen combat, and without any chips or cracks, had survived for many years. She took it off the display and felt its weight in her hands. It felt almost… familiar. If not familiar, then correct. The Valkyries urged her to take it, they too praised its correctness. It had called to her.

And it would do nicely to break down the wall.

“Wrecker, are you ready with that cover?” she asked, walking back over to the master closet.

“Oh yeah! Just tell me when!” he eagerly replied. Specter shifted the weapon in her hands, raising it up and testing her swing before giving the order to-

“Light ‘em up.” 

“I do have one more question.”

“What is it, Shorty?”

“...How would they feel about impromptu fireworks?”

Cid grinned.

Guests ogled and cheered for each color flash; no one noticed Specter striking the wall with the axe with every boom and bang. The wall chipped away, enough to where Specter could pull away the panel to climb inside the private vault.

“...No...”

See what happens next in part 2! I had to split this episode in two parts because this covered 14 pages in my master doc lol

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Word Count: 1032

Warnings: A/B/O, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, leering, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, murder conviction, parental dominance,

*Additional warnings will be added

*Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Square filled: @spnkinkbb -DeanJohnSam @anyfandomdarkbingo -Free Space

A/N: Each part follows in sequence

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Part III

Sam found himself standing in a T junction.

The back of the building had been altered, now a mixture of original storage spaces on the left and prefabricated rooms to the right with the loading dock straight ahead. 

His wolf led him down one of the hallways towards the scent of home intermingling with blood, seeing light pooling out a doorway, hearing the sounds of cursing and bodies impacting each other.

A quick look-see around the door jam revealed harsh fluorescents bathing everything in stark, washed-out colors: a dying Beta lays in a pool of their blood not far from a very pretty, blonde Omega who’s weeping, kneeling next to a richly attired Alpha holding her leash. They’re passively watching two other Alphas engaged in a fight.

One Alpha abruptly spun, sending arterial spray across the back walls, dead before they hit the floor while the remaining Alpha redouble their efforts to restrain a naked, bloodied female who’s holy fuck..an Omega killing Alphas! 

Sam watches astonished that the O, while tiring, wasn't giving up when another Alpha barreling past roughly shoves him bludgeoning the O with a blackjack, knocking her over, and repeatedly strikes to make sure she stays down. 

The Alpha then drags her across the concrete floor stuffing her in a heavy-duty, wire dog crate picking up a hose cranked the faucet full blast rinsing the blood before turning it on the caged Omega.

“Sammy!”

The voice skids into the room.

“What the fuck is the matter with you..you can’t just disappear like that, you had us freaking out!”  

Dean flashed to when after he turned sixteen Sam disappeared on his watch, shuddered, remembering their sires' reaction when he got back. Two weeks later he found Sam unharmed in Flagstaff.

He exhaled like then in relief, adrenaline ebbing, the scent hitting his system, grabbing his brother and dragging them both down the hallway spots John standing at the junction relieved before reverting to norms.

“If you ever do that again,” John admonishes in a tight voice not expecting the, “but sir, I found the right one,” response.

“What are you talking about son?” Sam points towards the room, “I saw an Omega fighting three Alphas and offed two of them!” 

“Are you sure it was an Omega?” John sounded doubtful when the scent hits him, making his wolf jolt seconds before his hunter's instinct flipped. 

The palatable taste of the O was so thick, along with the fresh blood overloading his senses felt his canines begin to elongate, and quickly wrestles control back, hears his eldest growl, and his eyes flash red...

“Dammit Dean, get back here!” 

John found him arguing with an expensive suited Alpha and in his peripheral, a leashed Omega was reaching into a wire cage shaking another one’s arm.

“Winchester, you have no right to be back here!” Helms yells as he marched into the room and the suit stopped arguing with Dean and turned on the dealer.

 “You think you can try and sell me damaged goods Helms,” pointing to the cage, ”I have no use for that thing!!”

John looked back at the cage and saw Sam trying to communicate with the leashed Omega but she was too frantic and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

Shit!!

John rushed over to move him out of harm's way before the suit realized the young Alpha was touching their newly acquired property orders, “step away from them.” Reluctantly Sam shifted, angrily growling when the injured O moaned and the other started crying harder as his sire squats down to inspect the O’s.

The caged one appears larger than her blonder sibling, John’s unable to tell by how much since she’s curled in the fetal position but can see her full, pink lips, cinnamon-freckled skin, and smelled nothing like the other.

Helms thought he could pass off these O’s as twins? No wonder the suits pissed.

She turns her head towards them, partially opening one fox-tilted eye revealing the same mosaic as Sam’s, and said pups' scent deepened, smelling like rutting Alpha. 

“Dean, take your brother to t..” John didn’t finish as his eldest green eyes widened and doubled over wrapping his arms around his middle moaning in pain.

Fuck, she’s triggering them both!

“Dean! I gave you an order!” he commands in his Alpha voice. 

“Sonuvabitch..come on Sammy!” Dean groaned tugging his dazed brothers' jacket, each using the other as a counterbalance, and stagger for the door when John felt the blonde O touch his leg and heard her whisper, “please help, he’ll kill her!”

He eyed the suit still arguing with Helms, who was going on about some contractual blah blah blah when a painful noise made John look back at the injured O reach out, stroking the other’s arm in a comforting manner reminiscent of what Dean did when a young Sam had one of his nightmares. 

She’s got strong protective instincts, he thought, that’s why she took on Alphas manhandling her twin.

The suit loudly exploded, “I paid a lot for twins..you promised you could deliver!”  Helms continued babbling something about a deal being a deal and it was never stipulated the O’s had to be identical blah blah blah.

“Hey! What are you doing over there?” 

The suit marched over and John felt his hackles go up expecting an altercation instead tugged on the O’s leash leading her across the room, and tethers her by the door before addressing John.

 “I understand you need an O to keep your son out of jail so I’ll make you a deal. You can have that thing," he points to the cage, "for a dollar, save me the effort of getting rid of it.”

“You can’t go making side deals in my establishment!” Helms screeched. 

The suit uses his status dominance over the Beta, “you lied about the product, and since I’ve signed all the contracts, as you keep pointing out, I can do whatever I want with my property,” address John again, “are you interested or not?” 

John can see the beaten O heading into shock and her twin's eyes pleading for help.

“You have a deal,” John says solemnly.

Part IV

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva  @b3autyfuldisast3r  @lassie-bird @nancymcl  @spnbaby-67  @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl @siospins2

[thecloudstan]

(Prt. 6) Came back after a few hours and saw your post. Enjoy your weed. XD I hope it's okay if I continue my ramblings (kinda forgot where I left off). Anyhow, one of the things that also really struck me about AC was showcasing the similarities and differences between Rufus and Cloud. They're strong, intelligent, and proud men that went through a lot after Meteorfall with geostigma and suffered a lot because of it. Rufus regrets his past actions and is always looking towards the future by AC.

In contrast, Cloud is stuck in the past and suffering from depression, unable to move forward due to his regrets. While Rufus is determined to stay alive while throwing off Kadaj in AC, Cloud has resigned himself to death. It takes a combination of Aerith, Tifa, Marlene, and even Vincent to finally push him forward to take action after avoiding everyone for so long. Cloud's and Rufus's respective struggles in AC are foils to each other, while serving as the biggest obstacles to Kadaj.

As mentioned before, I thought it interesting to be that in AC, Rufus was the person Cloud used as an excuse to run from his issues that led me thinking about their dynamic and characterizations. It made realize (and later confirmed in the Ultimania Omega) that at the end of the day, Rufus and Cloud never truly hated each other, even back in the OG. Sure, Rufus was a total cliché villain in the OG, but it had more to due with differing goals and philosophies that Rufus did grew out of.

I think I'd mentioned this briefly in one of my previous posts, but I really like that Rufus can understand Cloud enough to try and draw him into a partnership with honeyed words, which almost worked if not for Reno's mouth (lol), and Cloud knows Rufus enough that he isn't telling him the whole truth and calls him out on it. Honestly, their blunt interactions were so REFRESHING to see because they can say what's on their minds without tiptoeing around each other in AC.

And it's precisely because of that bluntness between them, as well as their similarities/differences, is what I think Rufus and Cloud would actually make a good couple. I know it'll never happen and it's just an overall opinion, but I don't think what Cloud needs people is always coddling him and not being able to speak their minds until something bad happens. Same thing with Rufus because he doesn't need a yes-men enabling his bad decisions/habits.

I'll end it here because it's past midnight in my timezone, but here have two strong, prideful men who hide their insecurities and loneliness though stoicism and going through severe inferiority-superiority complexes through the FFVII titles. It's a dynamic that works because they see each other as equals and worthy opponents and good allies. I strongly believe they complement each other as a result all of that and can find solace and a tender intimacy if they overcome their issues.

My response under the cut:

Yes yes yes, exactly this stuff. The distinct scene between Cloud and Vincent, specifically, about Vincent having never tried to forgive himself...I'm sure Cloud has this moment where he feels he's looking into his future if he doesn't shape up. It really is this whole story about how everyone around him is acting, and he's frightened into paralysis again. It's understandable, because Remake/Rebirth Cloud aside...he's fucking terrified of himself in the original. He did some horrible things (because of the Jenova/Seph influence), and then failed to do some very heroic things (by his own definition, at least). But the reality had to strike him, eventually, that...even fucking Shinra is trying to figure out what Geostigma is and how to stop it. Like...this is the new world. The Planet hasn't rejected them, it's just still getting FUCKED by Jenova. It was interesting and, ultimately, necessary character development for the Turks and Shinra Co. to evolve. It would make Rufus seem kind of like a short-sighted moron if the world practically ended because of the empire his father built, and then...he just repeats the same actions??? Nah. It wouldn't make sense and it would make them all really flat, I think. They would kinda cease to be characters and remain plot devices for Cloud's story. Which they definitely aren't!!

I don't want to give Cloud's friends too much shit. They have the very difficult task of getting that boy off his ass and out of his head. They're constantly relying on him, pushing him to Do Stuff, and I can see from his perspective how that would just be so crushing and anxiety inducing at times. Which honestly makes it that much more tantalizing that Rufus lured him in the way he did...with sugary speech and a yes/no proposition (as opposed to a guilt-trip, lbr).

I think in Cloud's case it's a lot more complex than simple coddling, but I know what you mean. I think Shinra Sr. had more of a 'yes-men' problem than Rufus, at least inasmuch his people never even TRIED to stop him from doing LITERALLY everything he wanted. I suspect the Turks could speak to Rufus more plainly than any of Shinra Sr.'s lackeys could speak to him (hence the dressing down Rufus gives them about dropping the plate in Rebirth). Or, maybe the Turks would just complain to Tseng and make Tseng go talk to Rufus XD idk.

At any rate, I do mostly agree with you, I just can never go so far as to say who would be the 'best' for one another (I really do think all characters have different interesting dynamics to bring to the table and I love too many different ships). But I respect your analysis and I ship tf out of them so I wouldn't be anything other than tickled by them being together in some capacity. I'd love for my poor country boy to have a wealthy bf who can pay off his student loans (wait...)

And I'm really happy you felt this was a safe space to share all this because fandom really needs that! I'm flattered. I hope people continue to feel that way. I'll be honest about my feelings but I'm never here to judge anyone. 💞