#i mean...Omega and Shadow are drawn well

[mildcharacterenjoyer]

dear god. This is certainly invoking an emotion of some sort.

Sonic Heroes (2003)

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 26 - Where Do We Draw the Line

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 8.8k words.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, blood, medical procedures, medical inaccuracies, drugging, nightmares, omega is hearing voices (well just one voice), mentions of past abuse, death, suggestive touching, descriptions of injuries, PTSD.

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AO3

enjoy <3

Hale walks around the ruined space. The tall glass windows of his old office have been smashed. The ceiling had collapsed down on his desk, water has warped the antique wood desk. It took them a whole week to clear out most of the rubble. Now he’s left with a semi-functional space, at least something he can work with to get this place back up and running.

Whatever explosives they used to blow the place clearly didn't do as much damage as they thought. Some soldiers from the shadow company said the bunker being so deep underground worked in their favor, the dirt absorbed the explosions. Hale doesn’t quite understand the technicalities but that's not important. 

What's important is that this place is salvageable. He walks over to the door in his office and pulls it open. It’s a small room, the bed is covered in more of the ceiling. The whole place feels empty without his omega. 

“This place looks like it’s seen better days.” He turns to see Graves standing in the doorway. 

“It could be alot worse.” Hale replies. Graves nods coming over to him with a tablet in his hands. 

“From our man on the inside.” Graves says. It’s pictures, of you and one of the alpha’s. Not captain Price, Ghost, the one Hale has never seen face of. He’s seeing it now, he’s seeing you walk hand in hand with him, kiss him. It makes him angry, jealous. How dare they take his omega. He goes to hand the tablet back to Graves, he doesn’t want to see this.

“There’s more.” He says reaching over and flicking to the end of the photos. This time it’s pictures of the inside of the building. It takes a second for Hale to realise what he sees, but there it is, clear as day Piper Montgomary. He flicks to the next photo, to confirm it.

“Son of a bitch. I should have killed her when I had the chance.” Hale spits, there’s a new person, another woman. Dark skin and long braids. 

“Who’s the other person?” Hale asks looking up at Graves who takes the tablet from him. 

“Dr. Fleur Goodwin, geneticist. Finding intel on her is hard. MI5 have been keeping the details very close to their chest.” Graves explains. 

“Piper is alive which means she’s working on a cure. We can’t let that happen.” Hale says.

“There’s not much we can do right now.” Graves replies. 

“You have a man on the inside. Kill her.” Hale says as a matter of fact. Graves laughs. 

“Even if that was a possibility it could spook them and we could lose them again. Not to mention it will expose my moles.” Graves says. 

“If she manages to get a cure it will be over for all of us. So either you get the omega out or you kill Dr. Montgomery.” Hale snaps. Graves presses his lips together, Hale can smell his alpha, he can smell his irritation.

“I will see what I can do.” Graves says turning to leave the room. 

Hale watches him leave then looks back into the small room. This is where you belong. If Piper can get a cure and give it to you before Hale can get you back it will ruin everything he’s ever worked for. He slams the door closed. 

He needs to get you back. Now more than ever. 

You are on the sofa with your knees pulled up to your chest. You’ve been chewing on the skin around your nails for what feels like hours. They’re wet and raw, you’ve already drawn blood. Piper won’t be happy but you don’t care.

Johnny and Kyle are waiting over on the other sofa. Johnny wanted to sit with you but you won’t let them near you. You don’t want their comfort, they’re hiding something from you. John and Simon won’t look you in the eyes. Johnny and Kyle are tense. You don’t even want to look at them. More tears come out rolling down your face. 

You don’t brother wiping them away. What difference would it make? More will come anyway.

‘You never were a good omega.’ Hale’s voice rings in your head. 

No, you never were. 

‘People keep getting hurt because of you.’  

People die because of you. Dr. Miller and Hale died because of you. You thought Piper died because of you. Now Fleur. Now she is going to die because of you. 

‘You’re never going to be a good omega.’ Hale says, he’s in your head but you can hear him like he’s right next to you. You look over at Johnny and Kyle, they haven’t moved, they’re just looking at you. You turn away. 

‘You can’t even keep your own pack threads tight. Useless omega.’ 

Piper, John and Simon walk into the room. You can smell the blood, you can smell Piper's worry. It makes you swallow hard. She comes over to you and sits on the sofa resting her hands on yours.

“Is she dead?” You ask. 

“No, she’s alive.” 

“What happened?” 

“It seems like her body is trying to repair itself. The cure is forcing her body to use all the blood it has to change her back to normal.” Piper says her hand squeezing yours. 

“You need my blood.” You say. 

“Piper? This is not what we talked about.” John says walking over. You look up at him. 

“She didn’t tell you.” You look back at Piper. “Omega’s are the only people who can give blood to humans.” 

“Normally if a trauma is too big to heal your body won’t even attempt it. The cure is forcing her body to fix itself though. If we don’t give her yours she will just use all hers up and die.” 

“There’s no other way you can stop it?” Kyle asks. You look over at him. Him and Johnny are stood up now. 

“Not quick enough to save her.” Piper says. 

“You can take what you need.” You say getting up to your feet. She stands up too her hands resting on your shoulders. She looks at you sympathetically, you understand it’s not up to you. 

You turn walking over to John.

“Please let me help.” You say, he lets out a sigh crossing his arm.

“Let me talk to Piper first.” He says. You bite the inside of your cheek. “Soap.” 

Soap. Not Johnny. It feels so clinical, professional. Johnny gets up and follows John to the door. You stay with Piper watching as they talk in hushed voices you’re not paying attention to. There's the silent nodding of heads, Simon and Kyle exchanging glances and before you know it Johnny’s smiling and coming towards you.

‘Don’t trust him.’ It’s Hale’s voice again.

His hand lands on your shoulder then runs down your arm. The touch is familiar but you see the uncertainty in his eyes, there's something behind them. It’s like he’s trying to put you at ease but it's not helping. 

“C’mon love. Let's get something to eat.” he says, grabbing your hand trying to pull you towards him. You hold your ground forcing him to stop. 

“I’m not hungry.” You sniffle hanging your head. You feel Pipers hand run up your back. 

“Go with Johnny. I’ll come and get you, I promise.” She says. You look up at Johnny, his hand squeezes yours. You nod and let him lead you out to the dining room. Kyle follows behind going into the kitchen, you sit down at one of the tables. You go to bite your fingers again but Johnny laces his fingers with yours stopping you.

“Piper knows what she’s doing, it'll be okay.” Johnny says. You can smell his beta trying to put you at ease but it’s not working. You know what Fleur needs, she needs your blood and the longer they wait the more likely she’ll die.

You hear the ping of a microwave and Kyle comes out with a plate. He puts it down in front of you with some cutlery. 

“I’m not hungry.” You repeat. 

“If you’re going to give blood you should eat.” Kyle says sitting on the other side of you. You sigh, reaching over for the fork and start pushing food around the plate. 

“It was a good job you stayed to talk to her or it might have been hours before we found her.” Johnny says letting go of your hand. That makes dread rise in you, she could have died and no one would have known until someone went to check on her then maybe you wouldn’t have been able to do anything.

“She would have died.” You whisper, putting your fork down. Johnny’s hand comes to rub your thigh.

“Pipers is a great doctor.” Kyle says. You nod. It feels like you’re waiting for ages, eventually you do end up eating something while Johnny and Kyle talk. When Piper and John do finally come in everyone stands up. 

“Come on.” She smiles, you nod going over to her. John crosses his arms, you get the impression he’s not as happy with this as you and Piper are. You almost don’t care, this is her only chance of survival if what Piper is saying is true. 

You smile at him as you follow Piper out and across to the medical room. When you make it inside you immediately look over at the bed tucked against the far wall in the room. Fleur looks like a ghost of what you’re used to seeing. The energetic bubbly person has been stripped away leaving a shell behind. 

It makes you stop in your tracks, you feel sick looking at the thing sheen of sweat on her face. 

“Hop up.” Piper says patting on the exam bed. 

“Is she okay?” You ask your eyes looking up at a monitor with numbers and lines on it. 

“She’s stable.” Piper says going over to the cupboards and pulling out supplies. When you see the empty IV bag your stomach sinks. 

“Will it hurt?” 

“No, you might feel a bit weird but don’t worry. I’ll start with 2 units, that should tide her over for now.” She says coming over with the tray.  You look over at Fleur watching her chest rise and fall. She’s breathing which means she has a chance and you’re going to make sure she has the best chance possible. 

The next day is more of the same. Each time Piper takes a bag of blood, then lets you recover for a few hours before you’re back for more. Your blood replenishes itself faster than normal people but it feels like Piper is taking it just as quickly as you can restore it. 

You don’t care though, there’s no way you’re going to let Fleur die. For some reason though this time you feel worse. You’re feeling dizzy and faint even before the blood bag finishes filling up. Piper walks over to you, disconnecting your tube and taking out the needle.  

“Will it be enough?” You ask. There’s a sombre look on her face. You move to sit up but she pushes you back down.

“Lay down, you need to rest.” She says. You nod, laying back down. You watch as she goes over to the bed with the bag of blood in her hands. Seeing it makes your head swim, that used to be inside you, now it's going into Fleur. 

“How much do you need?” You ask as she hangs it up next to another almost finished bag. 

“I don’t know, her body is going through it faster than you can produce it.” She swaps some tubes around. 

“Can’t you just stop the bleed?” You ask.

“It’s not as simple as that, it’s not like there’s an active bleed. The body is using its supply of blood to change her back into human, repairing the changes it made when she became an omega.�� Piper looks back over at you taking her gloves off. She walks over to a cupboard and pulls something out. She comes over with a juice box.

“You look pale,” she presses the back of her hand on your forehead. “You need to take it easy for a little while.”

“Are you going to take more today?” You ask, opening the drink. She sighs her hand running down your arm.

“I hope I don’t need to, I’ve taken a lot today.” You look past her over the hanging bags of blood. 

“If you don’t take it though she’ll die.” You say. 

“She’s improving, her body is healing. She is going through the blood slower.” She says. 

“Is that good?” You ask, she squeezes your arm. It’s not good, you can see it on her face. 

‘She’s going to die. All because you want a cure.’ It’s Hale again, you swallow hard blinking a few times. It’s almost like you can see him now, like he’s always in the corner of your eye. Maybe it’s his ghost, maybe he’s haunting you. Even when he’s dead he’s still in your head.

“Just lay here for a bit.” She says. You nod sipping on the juice and lay back on the exam bed, you watch the numbers and lines flick on the monitor. 

When you leave the room you still feel dizzy. Your body feels heavy, your legs feel like jelly but your arms are stiff. Whatever drug Piper is giving you to help you replenish blood quicker or whatever makes you feel sick. You just want to lie down, it takes effort to walk, each step makes your head spin. It’s like all your energy has been sucked out of you. 

You can smell beta in the air as you make it to the living room. Johnny and Kyle must be in here. You have to lean up against the door to push it open, it takes way more effort then you know it should. When you walk in, people turn, you can see Johnny and Simon on one of the sofas. You let go of the door to walk to them but your breath catches in your throat. A wave of dizziness overtakes you, you try to look around but everything goes black.

“C’mon love.” It’s Johnny's voice, it’s his hands on your face. This feels like deja vu somehow. You’re not really even sure what happened. “There we go, had us worried for a second.”

“Sorry. I must have slipped.” You try to move but you’re in someone's arms, you look up at Simon. He’s resting you up against his knees. 

“Christ love you’re white as a sheet, don’t move till the doctor gets here okay?” Johnny says. Something in your mind snaps. You can’t let them worry, if they worry Piper might stop then Fleur will die. You use the wave of adrenaline to try and push yourself off Simon. 

“I’m fine.” You say. It doesn’t last long though and you can’t hold yourself up slumping back down into his arms. The door to the living room opens and you see John walk in. He looks worried, angry about something. He comes over to you bending down and holding your face in his hands.

“I’m just tired.” He doesn’t say anything, just looks up at Simon, the door opens again and he gets up. You see Piper and Kyle come in. 

Piper comes over to you, you try to move but Simon doesn’t let you this time, keeping you tight against him. She bends down, running her cold hand over your head and pressing her fingers into your neck. 

“You need to rest.” She says turning away from you. John is standing with his arms crossed watching you, Johnny and Kyle share worried glances. You should have waited for longer before you left, taken a nap, something. 

“She can’t keep this up Piper. You need to stop.” John says. 

“No.” You call trying to move again but Simon holds you firm.

“It wasn’t a suggestion.” John says his voice louder. His alpha is strong in the air making you dizzy. He walks up to Piper.

“This stops now. You tried and you couldn’t save her, you have to stop or you’re going to kill her.” John says, there’s anger in his voice, it’s an order. He starts to walk over to you. 

“John!” Piper snaps, he stops in his tracks turning to her. “What if it was one of them?” She points and Simon and Johnny. John tenses taking a step up to her. Your nostrils flare. She’s made him mad, you’ve never seen him like this before, he’s usually so calm and collected. 

“Think very carefully about the next words out your mouth doctor.” He says his voice low and rumbling, it makes goosebumps rise on your neck. Your fear fills the air, you know Simon can smell it, his hands gripping you tighter. Everything in your body is telling you to run and you’re not even the one who upset him. 

“Please, don’t fight.” You say feeling tears well up in your eyes. John shoots a look at you, now all you can smell is your fear. His expression changes instantly but it makes the tears you’ve been trying to hold back escape down your face. 

“Take her upstairs, stay with her.” John says. You don’t protest, just lean against Simon’s chest as he picks you up.

“Dr. Montgomery, we need to have a chat.” You hear John say as you’re taken out the room. Johnny follows behind you, he smiles, he’s trying to project his scent as Simon carries you up into John’s room. You still feel dizzy as you’re put down in bed Johnny comes over with a water bottle.

Your hands are shaking as you try to open it, Johnny looks worried, his hands resting on yours. He takes the bottle to open it for you, you look down at the bruise on the inside of your arm and run your fingers over it. It’s not healing, you don’t have enough blood for it to heal, not right now. 

“What's going to happen to Piper?” You ask, taking the bottle out of Johnny's hand. His hand comes to rub your leg. 

“Don’t worry about that.” He says, you look up at Simon standing away from the bed with his arms crossed. His eyes look dark, he looks mad, maybe he is mad. 

‘He should be mad, you’re a bad omega.’ Hale almost sounds like he's laughing as he says that. You drink a sip of water. You are a bad omega, you’ve made everyone worried and now John is going to be mad at you just like Simon is. You look back up at Johnny who’s still rubbing your leg. 

The door opens making you jump, you look over to see John standing in the doorway. 

“Simon?” He says moving out of the door. It makes your stomach sink as you watch Simon walk out the room. You feel sick bringing the bottle back up to your lips. Anything to try and squash the nerves. 

“It’s going to be okay love.” Johnny says his hand rubs your arm.

‘It’s not going to be okay. That's your fault, you’re a poison running through packs bonds. They would be better off without you.’  Your head swims with Hale’s words. He’s right, you’re an omega, it's your job to look after the pack's bonds, you’re nothing but poison to them right now. 

The door opens again and Price walks in, Johnny lets go of your arm getting to his feet. You screw the lid back on the bottle, putting it down. Silent glances are exchanged and you watch as he leaves the room. John comes over taking his place, his hand lands on yours and he lets out a sigh. 

You look up at him not knowing what to say, maybe he’ll shout at you. His expression is relaxed though. “You can’t help Piper anymore.” He says. It sounds like an order, it's not his usual calm and collected tone. He’s giving you an order, 

“If I don-” 

“No. I'm aware of what will happen to Dr, Goodwin.” He lets out another sigh running his other hand up the inside of your arm. He stops when he makes it to the bruise. 

“In this job sometimes I have to make difficult decisions. This was not a difficult decision. If you keep doing this you will hurt yourself. I’m never going to let that happen.” 

“She’ll die.” 

“Maybe. Piper is working on other options, but I will not let you get hurt.”

“I want to help.” You say. He squeezes your arm. 

“I know but right now you can’t help.” You don’t know what to say. You hang your head looking down at his hand on yours. You want to pick your fingers again, anything to make you feel better. He lets out a sigh, his hand comes to your chin and he tips your head up to look at him. 

He looks worried, his brow is creased, his head tipped to the side.

“You’ve done enough.” He says, dropping his hand.

“Are you mad at Piper?” You ask. 

“I’m not mad, I’m just worried, I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He says leaning closer to you. You sigh, you want to trust him, you so badly want to believe him that Piper can figure out a different way but you can’t. He seems to be able to see your uncertainty, your sadness. 

“Get some rest, you need it. I’ll come and get you for dinner.” He says, you nod and he leans in to kiss you. His forehead rests on yours. 

“I love you, I’m doing this because I love you. You might not see it now but you will.” You smile at him when he breaks from you. You’re already getting under the duvet as he goes to leave. You do need rest, you lay down looking over at the packet of sleeping pills on the bedside table. 

An idea pops into your head. A horrible idea that will destroy your trust with John, but you can’t sit by and let Fleur die. 

You feel guilt. It’s worse than anything you’ve felt before. John trusts you, he’s your alpha and he trusts you. He would be so mad if he found out but you can’t let Fleur die, you can’t live with yourself knowing you could have saved her. 

You turn in the bed John’s asleep, he’s snoring gently, his mouth tipped open slightly. Your fingers reach up to brush his face, gently running down his cheek to his chin. You lean in, your hand dropping from his face and kiss his forehead. You are sorry and when the time is right you will tell him how sorry you are. For now though you need to do this.

He doesn’t move when you gently pull his arm off you and start to crawl out the end of the bed. You feel bad but you had to do this, you can’t let Fleur die. You slip out of the room as quietly as you can, closing the door behind you. The whole building is dark, Piper won't be in the lab and you made sure to listen to each door opening and closing while John was falling asleep. 

You make it over to Piper's room and knock as loud as you dare. Her room is on the end but Kyle will be sleeping next door and Simon and Johnny’s room is after that, they could all easily hear you. You wait a few seconds hearing her move and come over to the door. She frowns when she sees you. She looks around her hand coming to land on your shoulder.

“You should be in bed.” She says quietly. 

“I want to help. Please take more blood.” You say. She sighs, squeezing your shoulder.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. Besides, it’s only been a few hours since you gave some last.” You know it’s a poor excuse, you know it and she knows it. You could give some now. 

“Where’s John anyway he’ll be mad if he catches you.” She says. You look around feeling guilty.

‘You should feel guilty, you’re a bad omega.’ Hale says in your head. You wish he would just leave you alone. 

“I put my sleeping pill in his drink.” You say. Her face darkens.

“Do you know how dangerous that is?” She says, her voice is low, it’s like she wants to shout at you but can’t. 

“Please Piper. If Fleur dies it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have rushed the cure. I should have waited, I didn't-” She stops talking, swallowing and stepping out of her room. 

“Come on, we need to be quick.” She says pulling your arm and heading towards the stairs. She doesn’t even have shoes on. When you make it into the medical room you can see Fleur still in the bed, the bag of blood Piper gave her earlier is almost finished.

She still looks worse somehow even paler, she looks like she’s never going to get better. You’re already going over to sit on the exam bed. Piper sighs, pulling things out the cupboard. 

“When will she know if she’s going to be okay?” You ask, watching her chest rise and fall. 

“I don’t know.” She replies, she sounds sad. 

“Did you never try to cure anyone in the bunker?” She doesn’t say anything, only looking over at Fleur quickly. She brings the tray over to you and sets it down. 

“Piper?” You ask, she’s avoiding the question. 

“Hale wasn’t looking for a cure, you know that.” She says tying the tourniquet round your arm. 

“No but you didn’t even think about it?” 

“In the early days, yes.” 

“Before I was around?” She nods, hooking the bag onto the leg of the bed. 

“What was it like before I was around?” You ask. 

“Quiet.” She smiles, you watch as she lines the needle up. “I was young, just out of med school. I was so excited to change the world.” You don’t remember much of what you think were your first few years in the bunker. 

“Lay back.” She says pressing on your shoulders, you follow her instructions and she ties a blood pressure cuff round your arm. “No passing out on me, yeah?” 

“Okay.” You smile. She picks something else up and presses it into your hand. You look at it and frown at her.

“Squeeze.” She says going over to Fleur. You squeeze the ball in your hand and watch as she picks up her stethoscope. She clicks something on the IV stand and you watch as she works, listening to Fleur’s chest, looking round her body adjusting things. 

“Is she okay to be down here alone?” You ask.

“I have a monitor in my room. It’ll alert me if anything happens.” She says. She stands pack up picking up a folder and writing something down in it. She sits down on a stool scooting back over to you. 

“Is it normal to see hallucinations when you have blood loss?” You ask. She looks up at you concerned.

“Are you having hallucinations?” She reaches out to grip your hand pulling herself up to the bed. 

“No, no. I read it in one of the medical books on the shelf in the living room.” 

“It can, but it’s not really common. I’m not taking enough from you to make anything like that happen.” She says letting go of your hand and wheeling round the bed to the other side. She looks down at the bag collecting the blood, you can’t see it from this angle instead you just squeeze the ball in your hand. 

“We only ever tried a cure once.” Piper says, she lets out a sigh. You can tell she doesn’t want to really talk about it. “It was very early development, we rushed it on purpose, it was never going to work but Hale was desperate.” 

“Why?” You ask. She lets out another sigh, her hand resting on your lower arm. It sends a shiver through your body. 

“There was an omega before you. Vanessa, she was Hale’s biological daughter.” She pauses looking up at you. You don’t know what to say. You always thought you were the only omega. You had no idea Hale had a real daughter, a biological daughter. 

Not only that she was an omega like you. 

“She got very sick. She had a very early version of the formula even before Hale had taken it. Her body couldn’t handle the physical change. We tried to make a cure to reverse it but it was too late.” 

“What happened?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level. 

“She died. We tried to save her but there was nothing we could have done.” She says. You don’t know what to say to her. Somehow you have even more questions. 

“Hale had a daughter.” You say, she nods looking back down at the bag. 

“Why-” You let out a sigh, you don’t know what to ask. “Does John know?” 

“He wanted to wait until you were more settled to take time to sit down with you.” She says. You nod at her, you’re not sure what to say. She waits a few seconds before bending down and picking up the bag. It’s almost full, she moves it round in her hands smiling at you. 

“Why did you never tell me?” 

“I never found the time to tell you.”

“For years?” You ask confused, now you’re angry at her. You’ve known her all your life and she never once mentioned that Hale had another daughter. 

“Hale didn’t ever want you to know.” You laugh leaning forward in the chair. It makes you lightheaded, forcing you to lay back. 

‘You shouldn’t trust her.’ Hale’s voice rings in your head. He’s right, she lied to you. All your life she lied. She lied about him being your step-dad, she didn’t tell you anything. You look in her eyes, her green eyes, at least they’ve always looked green to you. You used to trust her but you broke your bond with her. Hale’s right, she’s lied to you enough. You can’t trust her.

The beeping of a machine pulls your attention over to Fleur. Piper gets up to her and you lean forward in the bed.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, watching as Piper flicks a switch. You hear a hissing watching as she pulls a mask over her face. 

“Nothing. She just needs a little help to breathe.” Piper says, that doesn’t sound like nothing. That sounds like something very serious. She goes over to a cupboard to take out another juice box. 

“It doesn’t sound like she’s getting any better.” You say taking the juice box out her hand. She turns around pulling a key of her hip and opening the medicine cabinet and taking something out. 

“It’s good, it means her lungs are still working.” She pops a pill out the packaging and hands it to you. “You still need a good night's rest. Now more than ever.” You nod, taking it and drinking the juice.  

“I won’t tell John. That you told me about Vanessa.” 

“I can talk to him if you want?” She asks. You shake your head. 

“I think something is wrong.” You say hanging your head. 

“What do you mean?” She asks, frowning at you. 

“John has been busy lately, he’s been quiet.” You say looking up at her, she still looks strange without her glasses. 

“He’s had a lot on his plate lately. Nothing you need to worry about though.” She says. 

“Why don’t you wear your glasses anymore?”

“I lost sight in my eye when Hales mansion exploded.” You look up as she points at her eye. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” You say feeling guilty all of a sudden. You’ve not spent much time with her since you found out she was alive. You should spend more time with her, she sacrificed her life for you. It’s the least she deserves. 

‘Don’t forget she lied, she deserves to lose her eye.’ 

“It’s okay.” She smiles then lets out a sigh, you watch her take the needle out your arm throwing it in the trash. “You should really be getting to bed. You need the rest.” You nod at her as she presses the machine and you feel the blood pressure cuff tighten round your arm.

The door to the room swings open, you hold your breath expecting to see John red faced and angry. Piper turns in her chair and you see Simon walk in, he looks over at you both straightening up and crossing his arms. 

“What's going on Piper?” His voice is low, commanding. You can smell his alpha in the air. 

“I wasn't feeling well.” You say looking at him, you don’t know if he believes you or not. Maybe you’re lucky that Piper just started the blood pressure machine. 

“Is she okay?” Simon asks coming over to you. “Where’s Price?” 

“Sleeping.” You say. 

“She’s okay.” Piper says. “Her iron levels are low, she was feeling faint but that's to be expected. She needs rest.” You smile at him trying to put him at ease, his eyes linger on Piper as you swing your legs off the bed. He seems to buy it, his hand comes to rest on the small of your back. 

“Do you need to do anything?” He asks Piper. 

“No, she should go back to bed.” 

“How’s Dr. Goodwin?” He asks.

“Small changes. It’s still too early to say anything.” Piper says rubbing your thigh. You hop off the bed as she pulls the cuff off your arm. Your body feels heavy again, you feel your head swim as you lean against Simon. 

“Take her to bed.” Piper says. Simon nods leading you out the room. You turn back watching as she bends down to pick up the bag of blood she kicked under the bed. You’re saving her life, you need to make sure Fleur lives because she deserves that. 

She deserves to live. Simon takes you over to John’s room cracking the door open. You turn in his arms reaching up to plant a quick kiss on his lips. 

“I love you, I’m sorry about worrying you. I just didn't want to bother John.” To your surprise he seems to believe you, his thumb coming up to brush your cheek. 

“We’ll always worry about you and it’s never a bother. Are you feeling better now?” You nod and he squeezes your hip. He leans to press a kiss on your forehead. 

“Get some rest.” He says. You nod and watch him walk away as you go into John’s room. You stand with your back to the door. He’s still snoring softly, you don’t want to be in bed with him. Not after what you’ve done. You let him down, you betrayed his trust. He doesn’t deserve that. 

You turn walking back out of the room and into yours. Even your nest doesn’t feel like a safe place right now. You pull your duvet off the bed and curl up in it anyway. Your body and eyes are starting to feel heavy, you can’t tell if it’s because of the blood loss or the sleeping pill. 

‘You’re a bad omega. Your alpha will never trust you again.’ He’s right, you let the pack down. They’d be better off without you. 

You’re sitting on a chair looking into a room through a glass window. There’s a beta strapped to a chair. You know who she is, she was helping Piper over the last few days. Hale is leaning on the console, you look at the flashing lights and buttons, you’ve always wanted to know what they all did. 

A door opens and you hear the click of heels. You know who it is before she makes it into your line of sight. 

“What’s going on?” Piper asks, Hale stands up and turns, he looks at you quickly then back to her. He moves to the side pressing play on the computer. You don’t bother watching the video you’ve seen it already. You hear your voice fill the room, then her voice. 

‘I’ll get you out of here.’ She says on the recording. It makes you feel sick. Maybe she would have been able to get you out but you will never know. Instead you were scared, so scared that you thought it was a test, a trap by Hale. 

You turned her in and now she’s going to die. The video stops and Piper walks over to you. 

“You don’t have to do this Hale.” She says. 

“No. I don’t but what choice do I have? You know very well what’s at stake here, Dr. Montgomery.” He snaps. You look up at her, her body stiffens as she looks past him into the room. Hale looks away and she squeezes your shoulder, it’s the only comfort you’ll get today. 

“How long has she been bonded?” Piper asks. It’s routine at this point, they’re going to forcibly break a bond you’ve made, by killing the beta. 

“Long enough.” Hale spits. It always hurts, not physically but emotionally. You’ve done this before but this time you did cause this. You didn’t have to turn her in and now you’re being punished for it, which is what you deserve. 

“Let's get this over with already. I don���t have all day.” Hale says, stepping back to stand next to you. You see Piper hesitate before pressing a button on the counter, she quickly turns back to look at you. You can almost hear her voice in your head.

‘It will be over soon.’ You hang your head, you can already feel the sadness bubbling in you. A deep feeling of dread that makes your stomach drop. 

“The drugs are in.” Piper says. The tears come next, you try not to sniffle, you don’t want to give Hale the satisfaction. A lump rises in your throat as you try to hold the tears back, you feel sick. It's less of a sadness more of a horror. A sob leaves your throat as a beeping starts. 

You hear Hale sigh before he reaches down to pull your chin up. “How do you feel?” He asks moving to stand in front of you. 

“Fine.” You lie, he knows it's a lie. Piper who goes into the room with the dead beta knows it. That's what Hale wants to hear though because he doesn’t want to be around you when the only scent you’re protruding is sadness. 

“Smile then.” He says. You obey, forcing a smile as his thumb comes to brush a tear away. Piper comes back into the room with a stethoscope in her hand, Hale drops your chin and you blink tears away. 

“Let me know when the autopsy is finished.” Hale says gripping your arm and pulling you to your feet. You look over at her quickly before you’re pulled out the room. You’re taken in silence to his office while you fight while holding back the sobs. It almost feels like you’re choking on them, each one forces you to swallow hard and is followed with tears. 

Hale goes over to sit on his leather sofa, you stand there watching him get comfortable before he pats his knee. You sit down next to him laying down looking out into his office. 

You project your scent for him because that is what you’re supposed to do as a good omega. His hand runs over your head as you feel him relax into sofa, the leather squeaking beneath him. His thumb brushes the back of your neck, it makes you tense but you tip your head for him anyway. 

“Such a good omega.” His thumb digs into the back of your neck. “Not long until your next heat. Then you will be mine.” 

It makes you feel sick but you don’t have a choice. You just close your eyes and focus on making sure your scent isn’t tainted.

You wake to John’s hand squeezing your shoulder. 

“Hey,” he says as you sit up. You don’t feel well rested at all. “What happened, why are you in here?” 

“I wasn’t feeling well. I went to see Piper but I didn’t want to wake you.” You say sitting up. Why does the lie come so easily?

‘Because you’re a bad omega.’ 

“Are you feeling better now?” You look up at him and sigh. His thumb comes to stroke your cheek. 

“How about you go back to sleep. I’ll get Piper to come and check on you in a little while. I’ll send Kyle up with some food.” He says. Now you feel guilty, you don’t need taking care of, it’s your guilty conscience making you feel ill. You nod anyway, if not just to get him to leave. 

He deserves better, better than you being a bad omega. He kisses your forehead and stands up, you lay back down and close your eyes. Hale’s right, you were never a good omega. 

…

Kyle wakes you next. He has a plate in his hands. You’re not hungry, you don’t move, you feel a chill in the room. He puts the plate and a bottle of water on your bedside table. 

“How is Fleur?” You ask. 

“No change yet. Piper is working hard though.” You nod pulling the duvet tighter over you. “Do you want me to stay?” You shake your head. He looks disappointed but nods and leaves anyway. 

You look up at the plate, you’re not hungry, all you want to do is help Fleur, help Piper and you’re not allowed. Maybe you could sneak another pill into John’s tea again and give some more blood. If Simon catches you again though he’ll probably get suspicious. 

You turn over, you don’t want to do it again, it feels like the guilt is eating you alive. You close your eyes, at least when you’re sleeping you’re not feeling guilty. 

…

“Hey,” You wake to Piper shaking your shoulder. She's smiling, you look confused sitting up. John is stood in the doorway. “Fleur’s awake.” Your head snaps to Piper, for a second you feel like you’ve misheard her. 

“She’s awake?” You ask letting out a long breath. Piper nods, suddenly the room doesn’t feel cold anymore. Suddenly the guilt goes away. She’s alive, she’s awake and she’s going to be okay. You throw your arms around Piper who hugs you back. 

“Is she going to be okay?” You ask.

“She’s going to be okay.” Piper says. You almost want to cry, you squeeze your eyes closed and hug her tighter. When you break from the hug you look up at John, he’s smiling too. It was worth it, she’s safe and you helped keep her alive.

“Is she normal?” You ask looking back at Piper, she nods. 

“So the cure works.” You say. 

“Technically yes but it would be nice if it wasn’t trying to kill you first. It needs a lot more work.” She explains. You nod. She gets up to her feet. 

“If you’re feeling up for it later Fleur would like to say thank you.” You nod smiling at her as she goes over to the door, John moves to the side to let her out then comes over to you. You stand up letting the duvet fall to the floor. His hand runs down your arm picking up one of your hands. 

You look up at him lacing your fingers with his, he leans down to kiss you. You wrap your other arm around him pulling him closer to you. You don’t feel guilt, you feel at peace, you sink into the kiss. His hand lets you go and runs up your arm to your shoulder. 

You kiss him deeper letting your fingers dig into his hip. He picks up on your eagerness pressing his hands on your face. You moan as he gently strokes your cheek and plays with your tongue. Before you know it you’re pressing against him trying to move him to the bed. He breaks from the kiss looking down at you.

“You need to eat, you’ve been asleep all day.” He says. You don’t care you reach up pressing your lips back onto his, you run your hand up his shirt you feel the familiar muscles and scars. Your fingers lace through his chest hair. His kiss is nice, his hands running over you are grounding. This is what you’ve needed. 

“Christ love,” John breathes, breaking from the kiss and looks down at you. You can see the shine in his eyes, you can smell his scent in the air, you project yours for him smiling as you watch his nostrils flair. You don’t stop touching him, running your hands over him. You’re not sure what you want but you want some silence, you want him. 

You want to spend time with him, let him do what he wants. You smile reaching back up to kiss him as he walks you over to the bed. When your legs hit it you break from the kiss sitting down. 

He bends down so his head is level with yours, your foreheads are pressed together, your lips quickly brush. “What do you need?” He asks, his voice low, almost a whisper. 

“You alpha, please.” You say reaching out to grab his shirt as you chase his lips. He hums kissing you again. His hands grip your waist before he gently runs them up under your top. He’s about to make it to your breasts when there’s a knock at the door. You both break from the kiss looking over. 

“John, you’ve got a visitor.” You hear Simon say. You hear John sigh and he stands up straight.

“Who is it?” He asks. Simon doesn’t reply right away. 

“Are you decent?” He asks. John sighs again going over to the door. You stand up to follow him. 

“Kate, what are you doing here?” He says, Kate? You walk up behind him seeing Kate Laswell standing with Simon. 

“Shadow Company are on the move, I sent a million messages.” She says, she sounds mad about it. 

“Shadow Company?” You ask that's commander Grave’s people. They were the ones who looked after the base in America. 

“Laswell, let's talk about this in my office.” he turns to look at you. “Why don’t you go see Fleur?” 

“What's going on with Shadow Company, are they coming here?” You ask, feeling a lump rise in your throat. 

“No, probably causing problems elsewhere.” John says smiling. “Nothing to worry about.” You don’t believe him, you look over at Kate. She smiles at you too. 

“It’s nice to see you again.” She says as they turn to leace and Simon comes to stand next to you. You nod at her, Simon’s arm wraps around your waist. 

“Sorry for interrupting you.” You watch as Kate and John walk over to the stairs. You see Johnny jogging up saying hello. When he spots you and Simon he comes over. You start walking with Simon meeting him halfway.

“What's Laswell doing here?” Johnny asks. 

“You’ll have to ask Price.” Simon says, Johnny raises an eyebrow then looks down at you. 

“Hey, did you hear the good news, love?” Johnny asks cheerfully.

“We’re going to see her now.” You say. 

“I’ll take her, you can go find out what Laswell’s here for.” Johnny winks, throwing his arm over your shoulders. Simon doesn’t protest, or maybe he doesn’t get a chance because before he can say anything Johnny’s already pulling you to the stairs. 

“She said Shadow Company were moving or something.” You say. 

“That can’t be good. But I bet they're messing around in America with Shepherd.” He says. 

“What if they come here?” You ask looking over at John’s office door.

“Na, no reason for them to come here. Besides, we’ve got a whole army surrounding us.” He says, well that's true at least. You are on a military base. You feel nervous all of a sudden. Maybe this was why John has been so distant lately. 

That all seems to vanish when you make it into the medical room and see Fleur sat up in the bed. She doesn’t look as pale anymore. Piper is sat on a chair talking to her, she stands when she sees you and Johnny step in. 

“Hey Piper. Kate’s here, let me catch you up while they talk.” Johnny says. Piper frowns for a second but nods and walks past you. You go over to sit on the chair. 

“How do you feel?” You ask. That seems like the best place to start. 

“Tired, weak but I think that’s normal after you almost die.” She chuckles, you’re not sure what to do so you just smile at her.

“I wanted to say thank you. I heard what happened and I know you risked your life for this.” Her smile doesn’t falter but she shifts in the bed. 

“John wasn’t too happy about it.” You smile. She reaches out to touch your hand, you almost want to cry, you thought she was going to die. Last time you saw her she looked so sick. Before you can stop yourself you’re on your feet wrapping your arms around her. 

“I’m sorry you got hurt.” You say. She hugs you back, rubbing her hand up your back.

“It’s okay. I’m fine now.” You break from the hug but her hands land on your arms, you still have bruise marks from giving the blood, it’s the first time her smile fades.

“You’re normal again.” You say, getting her attention back.

“Yeah, it was interesting being an omega for a few days.” She smiles, you smile back and sit back down.

“I was surprised that the alpha’s smell so mellow. I thought it would be extremely overwhelming.” 

“They smell like the ground after rain.” You say. She smiles nodding her head.

“Petrichor. That's what they call the smell of the ground after rain.” She smiles. “So who’s kate?” 

“Kate is the American woman who works with John. She works for the CIA. She’s very nice.” 

“Ah yes, the woman Piper stayed with while she was recovering in America.” You nod. 

“And what's Shadow Company?” 

“They’re military contractors I think. There’s this guy Commander Graves, I don’t like him very much. They destroyed my nest in America.” You say.

“That's not very nice.” She says frowning. 

“No, but at least he doesn’t give me the creeps like Shepherd did.” 

“Shepherd?” She asks, frowning. 

“He was a Commander, or a General I think. In America.” 

Before she can respond you hear the door open. Piper comes back into the room. 

“We should let Fleur get some rest, she’s still got a long recovery.” Piper says. You nod getting up, Fleur is still smiling. 

“Come and visit tomorrow?” She asks. You nod smiling at her and follow Piper out the room. You follow her into the lab. You can see the sun setting, lighting the trees up in shades of orange. It’s spring now and the trees are starting to sprout new buds of green. The trees are different over here, not like the massive evergreen trees in America.

“You did well.” Piper says, pulling your attention from the window to her. You’re not sure what to say. 

“I’m glad she’s okay.” You say, Piper's hand strokes your arm.

“How do you feel now we’re closer to a cure?” 

“It’s good, it’s what they want.” You say, she sighs squeezing your arm. 

“You don’t need to take the cure.” She says. “You will always have a choice.” 

“What would be the point? Not much point in being an omega without a pack.” You say. She lets out a sigh, dropping her arm.

“There is still a long way to go, months maybe. I don’t want you to worry about this.” She says, you nod.

“You should go get something to eat. Johnny’s waiting for you.” She says smiling. You hug her, you can tell she wasn’t expecting it but she hugs you back instantly. Maybe you do want to repair your bond with her. You’re about to break from the hug when goosebumps rise on the back of your neck.

It’s like things happen in slow motion. A gasp leaves Piper's throat, your head turns to the window, there’s someone standing there with a weapon. You don't even get time to scream before the man opens fire.

next

Dividers by @gild-ui & @plum98

[generic-sonic-fan]

Summary:

Omega and Shadow return to base- Shadow with a hole blown through his chest, and Omega with his missile launchers drawn, refusing to say a word.

If Rouge can’t get to the bottom of this, it could very well mean the end of Team Dark.

The boys are fightiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

Jokes aside, welcome to my long-alluded "fight that almost ended Team Dark". I've had this sort of in my "lore" for Team Dark ever since I started thinking about them.

Rouge is fun to write because her expertise is in the social realm- she's able to guess and figure and read between the lines of what people say in a way that Shadow and Omega both choose not to study and are perhaps unable to learn. Since day 1 of the team she's always been the negotiator between them. I wanted to push that to its limits a little.

Massive, and I mean massive shoutout to @wonderinc-sonic for their help with this. Their beta'ing is the only reason I never gave up on this fic. Thank you.

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

Tug of War (Chapter 2)

Read on Ao3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

            Crosshair had taken up his usual position in the tavern, standing sullenly in a darkened corner a short distance away from the others. As expected, Cid hadn’t given up on trying to convince the squad to take the job on Serreno; and now, several hours after the meeting in the office, it sounded like she had succeeded in winning over Tech, Wrecker, and even Echo. Crosshair idly looked across the tavern at Hunter, knowing the sergeant would be the next target of Cid’s efforts. Hunter was currently sitting at the counter with Omega, quizzing her on something, and looking as fulfilled and content as Crosshair had ever seen him.

            Crosshair’s eyes fell on Omega, who had a look of confident concentration on her face; and he found himself considering how hard the kid always worked to learn enough to keep up with the rest of the team, both to contribute to the missions and to not be a burden on her brothers. Before he could think too much about this, however, his attention was drawn by Cid’s irritatingly raspy voice.

            “Now, all we gotta do is convince Dark-and-Broody.”

            Crosshair rolled his eyes before noticing that the conversation had also caught Hunter’s attention: he was now heading toward the others, a frown on his face.

            “Convince me about what?” he asked warily.

            “Uh, well, we took a vote,” Wrecker admitted, “and we wanna go after the war chest.”

            “It’s unanimous,” Cid interjected. “Even Killjoy over here agreed,” she continued, gesturing at Echo.

            It didn’t escape Crosshair’s notice that Cid was not only deliberately ignoring him and excluding him from the discussion, she was acting like he didn’t even exist as a member of the squad. “Unanimous,” indeed. He crossed his arms more tightly over his chest and glowered more deeply, remaining alone in his corner as he continued observing the proceedings.

            “Serenno is Imperial occupied,” Hunter was saying now. “We’ve stayed off the Empire’s radar since Kamino. Why chance it now?”

            It was a valid argument, one that voided all the advantages Cid had presented to win over the others; but Cid, of course, had a ready answer.

            “Because,” Cid said, “the contents of just one of those containers would be worth more than all the jobs you pulled for me combined. You can buy your freedom.”

            Hunter shook his head. “We’re already free.”

            “It’s cute you think that,” Cid countered. “Clearly, you’re not paying attention to what’s happening out there, but I am. It’s only a matter of time before the Empire comes here, and then my little operation is over, which means no more jobs for you.”

            Crosshair, still standing in the shadows, bit back a snarky observation, but only because Tech spoke first. “She does have a valid point.”

            Cid followed up on the advantage. “You wanna really be free? Then pull off this heist, and you’ll have the means to disappear. No more risky missions. No more living hand to mouth. You can have a future. Isn’t that what you’re after?”

            Hunter looked over at Omega, who was still sitting at the counter dutifully studying her lessons on the datapad. His expression softened considerably from its usual set lines of hardened stoic cynicism into one of thoughtful affection, and Crosshair knew the lizard had hit on probably the only argument that might sway Hunter into taking such a massive risk. To Crosshair’s surprise, though, Hunter looked over at the dark corner where Crosshair still stood, catching and holding his gaze.  

            “Well, Crosshair? What do you think?”

            Crosshair had assumed Hunter wouldn’t care about getting his input; only now did it finally dawn on him that this was a baseless assumption, as Hunter and the others had been seeking out Crosshair’s opinions about various missions ever since he had rejoined the team – even if they frequently ended up going a different route. Now, Crosshair huffed as he shook his head, pushing himself off the wall.

            “Anything that gets us away from the lizard,” he said harshly, returning Cid’s glare with calculated interest before turning away and leaving the tavern.

            His answer had double meaning: he wanted to get away from the Trandoshan right now, of course, but he also wanted to take any chance they had to get away from her permanently. Hunter’s only objective was protecting Omega, even if that meant submitting to blackmail for months; somehow, Hunter didn’t – or wouldn’t – realize that Cid would betray them at a moment’s notice if it somehow benefitted her. Cid had spun things as if she wanted the squad to be independent from her, but Crosshair knew better: no way would Cid let them go that easily. Still, the fact remained that if the squad managed to get enough of the spoils, they would have the means to cut ties with Cid and set out on their own whether the lizard liked it or not. Going to Serreno was risky, but Crosshair was more than willing to take the risk – and he would do whatever needed to be done to make sure this mission succeeded.

            He was deep enough in his thoughts that he surprised himself when he found himself standing in front of the Marauder, but after a brief moment, he decided to board. He knew his squad well enough that he could guess they would waste no time making the final decision – which, of course, would involve capitulating to Cid’s demands – and starting out on their new objective.

            His hunch was proven correct. Within half an hour, Echo commed Crosshair to tell him to meet the rest of them at the Marauder, and seemed pleasantly surprised to hear that Crosshair was already there.

            Crosshair lounged in the passenger seats near the racks, leaning his head back against the wall and intermittently closing his eyes, ignoring his brothers and Omega as they chatted away during the departure from Ord Mantell. By the time Tech had set them on course through hyperspace, Wrecker and Echo had taken the other seats near Tech on the flight deck while Hunter made his way to the consoles. Omega followed behind Hunter shortly after and, happening to pass by Crosshair at a moment when he had his eyes open, offered him a bright smile and patted his knee as she headed toward her room, not stopping long enough for him to protest the gesture of affection.

            An hour passed before Echo left the flight deck. Crosshair, finding a nap still eluding him, had just begun pondering whether he should clean his rifle again or set up darts for practice, when a hushed conversation between Echo and Hunter caught his attention.

            “I know why you agreed to this mission,” Echo was saying. “But we can do better things with Dooku’s fortune than hide, Hunter. With what we’re up against, we have to be prepared to fight. That means numbers and weapons.”

            “That’s not the kind of life this kid deserves,” Hunter said dismissively.

            “Our lives are like this because of Omega,” Echo retorted firmly.

            Crosshair had to admit he was rather surprised by this statement – it was true, of course, but the fact that Echo said it out loud was unexpected. Still, he remained motionless as Hunter quickly glanced toward the gunner’s mount before dragging Echo a few feet away.

            “Taking her off Kamino was the right thing to do,” Echo quickly amended. “But there are others out there who need our help. We’ve seen what the Empire is doing throughout the galaxy. We should be doing more.”

            Echo stalked back to the flight deck before Hunter could reply; Hunter simply sighed and looked toward Omega’s room again before settling back in at the consoles. Neither of them glanced at Crosshair, nor did they notice Omega’s face peeking cautiously around her privacy curtain, visible only for a second or two before she stealthily ducked behind the curtain. But Crosshair noticed, and the look on her face left an impression. Hurt, surprise, concern, self-doubt, disappointment, and remorse – Crosshair had felt each of these emotions often enough that he instantly recognized them in her expression; and he intuitively knew that she had taken Echo’s words to heart, not because they were a new revelation for her, but because she had thought the same herself many times before.

            Unbidden, recollections came to mind of Omega’s attempts to comfort him, Crosshair, when he was feeling hurt and angry and misunderstood; and the inclination to now check on Omega and make sure she was okay propelled Crosshair to his feet before he fully realized what he was doing. He took a hesitant step toward her room before stopping himself, shaking his head as he stiffly straightened his back and turned resolutely toward the flight deck. She’ll be fine, he told himself. She shouldn’t let such things get to her anyway. She needs to learn to get over it.

            His conscience still pricked at him as he meandered to the flight deck and stood in the threshold, blinking at the view of hyperspace before glancing around at his other brothers. Wrecker was sleeping; Echo appeared to be double checking the flight plans; Tech was tapping away at a datapad, and a quick glance at the screen informed Crosshair that Tech was busily compiling a few more lessons for Omega. More as an effort to get Omega off his mind than anything else, Crosshair began thinking over what Echo had said to Hunter, about needing to do more, about needing to prepare to fight.

            He didn’t agree with Echo. Did he want to rejoin the Empire? No. Did he often find himself feeling uncomfortable when he thought about some of the things the Empire had let him get away with doing, if not outright encouraged him to do, in the interest of carrying out orders? Maybe. But, unlike his brothers, Crosshair still didn’t think the Empire was that bad, certainly not bad enough to warrant anyone – much less the squad – risking themselves in open revolt. The squad’s priority should be securing their own interests, which included permanently extricating themselves from Cid’s clutches. Besides, Omega wouldn’t be safe if they started deliberately going up against the Empire…

            Kriff, Crosshair thought to himself. He was going to start acting like his brothers – Omega this, Omega that, all the time – if he wasn’t more careful.

            Thankfully, Wrecker chose this precise moment to wake from his nap, stretch, loudly pronounce that he was bored, and then challenge Crosshair to a game of chance.

            “Not dejarik?” Crosshair asked, showing his agreement to the request by stepping forward to take the seat across from Wrecker and waving Gonky over.

            “Nah,” Wrecker shook his head, grinning. “I play enough of that with Omega. She beats me just about every time, too.”

            Crosshair just barely managed to hold back a groan at yet another reference to the kid.

            It was another hour before they reached Serreno, Crosshair subconsciously battling himself the entire time over whether it really was the best idea to expect Omega to come to terms with Echo’s declarations herself. He soon discovered he needn’t have worried: she must have gotten over it just fine, for she was as bright-eyed and inquisitive as ever when she emerged from her room upon Tech announcing their approach. If she seemed ever so slightly subdued and withdrawn while they trekked to the other side of the mountain to reach the city, he certainly didn’t notice it. Not him. Not at all.

            The squad stopped at the top of a cliff that gently sloped down through a forest into the city, taking quick inventory of the situation before proceeding with their op.

            “That’s the city?” Omega said quietly when she caught a glimpse of the destruction. “What happened to it?”

            “Imperial orbital bombardment,” Echo answered. “Same as on Kamino.”

            Tech interrupted with a more pressing observation. “It appears that they are beginning to transport the war chest off-world. Our window of opportunity is quickly closing.”

            “There’s over forty troopers down there,” Echo stated warily.

            “That’s nothing,” Wrecker asserted with a short laugh; but Omega quickly corrected him.

            “Stealth, Wrecker. Remember?”

            The sound of engines attracted their attention, with Tech again supplying an explanation that most of them already knew – though, Crosshair realized, there was a chance Omega didn’t know. “Imperial escort ships. The standard protocol for when high-level cargo is being transported.”

            Hunter turned to Omega, Tech, Wrecker, and Echo. “Get to the nearest container and grab what you can,” he ordered. “Crosshair and I will be the eyes on the ground. If things go sideways, I’ll divert their forces and buy you all some time. Crosshair, you stay out of sight and watch our backs.”

            “Yes, sir,” Crosshair drawled, taking up the rear as they all began heading down the forested slope. Hunter branched left; Echo, Tech, Wrecker, and Omega took the right; Crosshair followed Hunter a short way before angling ever so slightly to the right. Nearing the edge of the paved plaza situated by the forest that was currently serving as a landing platform for the cargo ships, Crosshair began discreetly placing a few mirrors on strategically located tree trunks and low branches before withdrawing to a more secure location where he could see without being seen.

            “In position,” Echo came through on comms. “And the second transport’s launching.”

            “Crosshair?” Hunter asked.

            “Waiting on you all,” Crosshair responded, glancing at Echo’s group before looking back through the trees to where Hunter was skulking near the plaza.

            “We’ve got roving patrols,” Hunter said now. “Stay alert.” And with that, Hunter darted out of the forest toward some empty shuttles. By the time Crosshair looked back toward the cargo containers, Wrecker was just climbing aboard one of the open containers, the others having already disappeared inside.

            Things were definitely going to go sideways, he knew that already. The only question now was how much of the cargo they’d manage to make off with before then. There was nothing he personally could do to prevent complications unless he defied ordered and tried taking all the troopers out, which course of action would likely lead to its own complications – best, then, to wait and observe. He watched for a moment as Hunter ducked under a shuttle to plant a “diversion,” then turned again to watch the cargo containers… and caught a brief glimpse of an unconscious trooper leaning against the container before Wrecker hefted the unfortunate clone inside.

            Here we go, Crosshair thought drily; and he now directed his attention toward the movements of the patrolling troopers, waiting on high alert for any indication that the unconscious trooper was now missed. He squinted in concentration as a trooper with a black pauldron – likely the captain – passed by in Hunter’s general vicinity… That trooper’s color scheme was very familiar, but he couldn’t place who it might be…

            Well, it didn’t matter who the captain was. Hunter was now clear of the shuttles; just had to wait for the others to finish…  

            “Hunter, I think we’re about to have some company,” Echo came through the general comm channel again.

“Are you clear?” Hunter replied.

            “Negative,” Echo replied. “We could use that diversion about now.”

            “On it,” Hunter said; and almost before Crosshair could blink, an explosion rocked the makeshift landing platform.

            Hunter was already barking out more directions. “I’m heading your way. Be ready. Crosshair,” he added, “maintain your position. Cover us, but don’t give yourself away if you don’t have to.”

            “Mmm-hmmm,” Crosshair replied as he stealthily shifted his rifle, keeping an eagle eye on both the troopers’ movements and the cargo container. He saw Wrecker exit the container with a large crate and make it to the tree line unnoticed by the troopers; but Crosshair had an uneasy feeling that the others might not make it…

            “Tech, Echo, hurry up,” he hissed through the comms, “I don’t think…”

            He cut himself off as he watched the cargo container doors abruptly shut, with the ship readying for lift off moments later.

            Sideways. This is definitely sideways, he thought. No need to panic, of course – Echo and Tech would undoubtedly find a way off that ship – but Crosshair was feeling rather useless at the moment.

            “Tech, the ship’s taking off,” Hunter was saying through comms now. “Get out of there!”

            Several seconds passed, with Crosshair expecting Tech to come through with a curt response at any moment. Instead, he felt a thrill of concern run down his spine when Omega’s panic-filled voice came over the comms instead.

            “Hunter, we’re trapped in the container. We can’t get out.”

            Crosshair shifted slightly, eyes still locked on the cargo container. If Tech and Echo between them couldn’t figure out a way off the ship… And now there were troopers lining the perimeter of the platform…

            “On our way,” Hunter confidently replied.

            “Uh, Boss?” Wrecker wasn’t speaking through the open link, but could be heard in the background through Hunter’s comm. “I think they know something’s up.”

            Crosshair heard Hunter sigh. “We’re done hiding anyway.” As if suddenly remembering the sixth member of the group, Hunter quickly added, “But not you, Crosshair. Stay hidden and don’t start shooting unless I call for backup.”

            Crosshair scowled, wanting to argue… but there was no time. Tech and the others needed to get out of the container as soon as possible.

            Besides, Hunter and Wrecker had already revealed themselves anyway.

            Crosshair’s vexation rapidly faded into bemusement as he watched Hunter and Wrecker leap onto the now-departing container, with regs now turning their attention – and blasters – on the two brothers.  

            “What the kr… blazes are you two doing??” Crosshair asked, before suddenly registering – to his extreme annoyance – that he had just censored himself since he knew Omega would hear him over the comms. Since when did he care about avoiding foul language around the kid?? Hunter was rubbing off on him.

            Hunter now distracted him from indulging in a sudden urge to spout off a few expletives out of spite at himself. “We need backup!” Hunter was saying tersely as blaster fire sounded in the background.

            “That didn’t take long,” Crosshair snarked back, already raising his rifle into position and aiming for one of the mirrors he had placed on a tree trunk that was in his line of sight a hundred feet away. He likely wouldn’t actually hit any clone troopers at this range and angle, of course, but these shots should be enough to get their attention and serve as misdirection.

            The plan worked spectacularly. As the first shot ricocheted off the mirror and found its way between a few of the troopers who had taken up position along the perimeter, the soldiers panicked. “There’s another insurgent!” one of the troopers yelled, loudly enough that even Crosshair could clearly hear him; and the sniper permitted himself a small, smug smile before taking three more shots at the mirror. Then, deciding not to push his luck, he noiselessly set out in the opposite direction from where the shots had supposedly come from, just as four troopers cautiously entered the forest to investigate that area.

            Secure in the knowledge that he had successfully distracted some of the troopers away from Hunter and Wrecker and misdirected the enemy from his position, Crosshair loosely tracked the cargo ship as he made his way through the forest, and witnessed the moment Hunter and Wrecker jumped off the container to slide down the slick, slanted roof of the castle below before falling out of sight. Hunter and Wrecker both had their general comms channel turned off and were a substantial distance away, but Crosshair thought he could almost hear Wrecker's protests over this course of action. Poor Wrecker. Crosshair had to admire his brother's determination to not let his fear get in the way of his duties. 

            At any rate, Crosshair figured it was about time for some updates. 

            "Hunter? Wrecker? You alive?"

            He let out a small sigh of relief when a comm beeped - a tiny part of him had worried they had fallen all the way to the ground. "Yeah," Hunter replied, "we're good..."

            Omega's voice broke over the comms again, urgency still lacing her voice. "Hunter, where are you?" 

            Hunter sighed. "Sorry, kid. We got a little sidetracked. You need to get off that ship before it jumps to hyperspace."

            Tech now spoke over the open channel. “If we gain access to the ship’s main hold, we could commandeer an escape pod.”

            “Do it,” Hunter said. “We’ll get to the Marauder and recover you. Crosshair, meet us on the south side of the castle. Do not draw attention to yourself.”

            With Tech having a plan, Crosshair was no longer overly worried about the trio still stuck in the container, and could now focus singularly on the task at hand. Tech, Echo, and Omega would undoubtedly grab some of the cargo before making their escape; it was up to Crosshair and the other two to get out of the city and retrieve them. "Copy that," he replied, before continuing his southward course loosely following the perimeter of the city. Reaching a section of the destroyed city that was suitably devoid of troopers, he broke away from the tree line and cautiously picked his way across the rubble and around toppled buildings, now aiming northwest toward the castle. 

            Maybe he should have followed the others' examples and painted his armor a different color, he thought idly as he ducked behind a pile of bricks that must have once been a wall and peeked around the other side before resuming his course. He was wearing his old armor - for some reason, his overly sentimental brothers had kept it - since he had lost his Imperial commander helmet on Kamino and had figured his Imperial-issue armor might draw unwanted attention. The problem now was, his stark black and red-detailed armor stuck out against the ivory and gray shades of the rubble like a sore thumb. He would be blending in a lot easier now if he hadn’t refused the medium gray color Omega had suggested for him when the others had undergone their wardrobe changes.

            Whatever. Black suited him. And it wasn’t like gray would work as camouflage in every setting. 

            He approached the castle's southern border and hid himself under the collapsed roof of what must have once been a civilian residence. Ducking low, he commed Hunter. "I'm in position," he whispered. 

            "Good," Hunter softly replied. "We'll find you soon."

            Crosshair kept the comm channel open but fell silent as he heard hurried footsteps approaching. 

            "Captain, we are outside the castle and awaiting further orders," Crosshair overheard a clone saying as a group of six troopers passed by his hideout. 

            Crosshair couldn't hear the captain's response – the trooper was likely speaking over comms – but he did catch the trooper replying, "Understood, Captain Wilco," before the men picked up their pace and headed into the castle. 

            Crosshair spoke before registering that Wrecker had just said something over the still-open channel. 

            "Oh great," Crosshair muttered.

            Hunter sounded guarded as he asked, "What n..." 

            The sound of blaster fire erupted over the comms, and Crosshair had his rifle positioned to attack before he realized his brothers, not him, had been discovered. Still on high alert, Crosshair fell silent, listening intently as he waited for the standoff to end. It would do no good to warn Hunter and Wrecker of his discovery right now while they were in a more immediately pressing situation.

            "Any idea how we're getting out of here?" he heard Wrecker say. 

            A brief pause, then: "We're not going out," Hunter was now saying. "We're going down. There's a lift below us. Cover me."

            There seemed to be the briefest of lulls in the blaster fire before it picked up again more intensely. 

            "What is taking you so long?" Wrecker said. 

            Crosshair couldn't miss the exasperation in Hunter's voice. "I'm trying! Tech usually does this." 

            Crosshair shook his head. He already knew what would happen. He tilted his head as he continued listening, waiting to be proven right... 

            "It's jammed," Hunter almost growled. 

            "Well," Wrecker said, "I can fix that."

            Yep, there it was. Three, two, one...

            "Wait!" Hunter now said in a would-be calm voice that was rapidly evolving toward panic as a mysterious banging noise sounded in the background. "Don't! NO!"

            Crosshair waited for the screaming to stop and let his brothers indulge in a few pained groans before he interrupted them. If he did chuckle to himself over what he could vividly imagine had occurred based on what he had just overheard, neither Wrecker nor Hunter would have known it given the dry, blunt tone he adopted as he stated, "So as I was saying, we've got a problem." 

            "What's going on now?" Hunter practically wheezed.

            "Wilco's here." 

            "Who's Wilco?" Wrecker asked with a low moan. 

            "He's a clone captain with the Empire."

            “Will he be able to ID you?” Hunter cut in sharply.

            “Probably.” Crosshair paused. “He’ll probably be able to ID any one of us if he sees us.”              "I'm assuming you've worked with him before?"

            "Yes." Crosshair frowned as he recalled the one and only assignment he had had with the captain. "He's smart, he's thorough, he's demanding, he's stubborn, and he is fully committed to seeing his assignments through." 

            "Hm. Sounds like you." 

            "What?" Crosshair sputtered, both outraged and slightly worried. If his brothers still associated him with the Imperial clones..."We're nothing alike!"                         "Well, I think you're smart, Crosshair," Wrecker put in. 

            "That's NOT what I meant!" he hissed back. "I'm not with the Empire anymore!" 

            "Crosshair, if we didn't trust you around Imperials, you wouldn't be on this mission," Hunter said candidly, cutting through Crosshair's lingering concern. "At any rate, thanks for the warning, but we need to get out of here and find the others." 

            "Fine," Crosshair muttered as he heard background noises indicating Hunter and Wrecker had just exited the lift. 

            "The regs have all the entry points to the castle surrounded," Wrecker observed. 

            "Not all of them," Hunter corrected. "Our way out is down." 

            At this hint, Crosshair angled himself so he could closely scan the castle, catching sight of his brothers standing at the edge of an upper story balcony just as Wrecker groaned, "I knew you were gonna say that!" 

            "I have eyes on you, Hunter," Crosshair informed him. 

            "Where are you?"

            "Head southeast when you reach the ground. I'll meet up with you. There are very few troopers in my direction, but I can cover you if any show up." 

            "Good," Hunter said, a hint of relief lacing his voice. "We'll use the city ruins for cover and trek back to the Marauder. Tech," Hunter opened another channel, "did you reach the escape pods yet?" 

            "Not exactly," Tech's factual voice came through the open channel. "We are using an alternate mode of transport. My calculations have us crashing towards the upper forest region of the planet." 

            "Crashing?" Hunter exclaimed, as Crosshair wondered yet again how, after spending a lifetime with the squad, Hunter still managed to be surprised by anything Tech reported. Honestly, Crosshair would have been infinitely more astounded if Tech had reported an uncomplicated escape from the cargo ship. 

            A loud crashing noise came through the comms before the open channel cut off briefly; Crosshair could practically hear Hunter silently counting to five before speaking again: "Tech. Report." 

            "We are alive," Tech stated. "But where we are, I am not fully certain." 

            Echo could be heard now. "The Empire's gonna come looking for their containers, and for us." 

            "Get out of sight and lay low," Hunter ordered. "Once we get to the Marauder, we'll come for you." 

            "Roger that," Tech replied before closing out communications. 

            "Crosshair, we're heading your way," Hunter announced. 

            Good, Crosshair thought as he glanced at the now-setting sun. The sooner they grabbed some treasure and got off this planet, the better. 

[theaussieblue]

Alrighty then. Some time back I gave my opinion on DC x Sonic a bit back, and it's time to do issue 2.

God's this was the best issue of the three. Period. It was fun, snappy, and all the cast acted in a way that was belivable and fun.

Spoilers below the break.

Alright, this is our first showing of Darkseid. To be clear I was a huge fan of the Justice League cartoon, so I don't know much more about Darkseid then that.

But the way he stands there, confident and powerful, is truly intimidating. Right from the get go it's apparent that Darkseid is a powerful foe.

The dude is big

Flash tells Sonic that this guy is mean and dangerous, and Sonic kind of laughs it off. After all, he's faced off against Gods, how dangerous could Darkseid be?

Oh.

Sonic and Flash stand absolutely no chance here, and they quickly have to run from their lives from an Omega Beam. Sonic can't even shake the attack - he's completely outmatched in a way that I've never seen before in the main canon.

And Sonic knows it.

Even back during the Metal Virus arc when things were going absolutely horrible, Sonic never lost his cocky, carefree attitude. There was always something he could do. To see Sonic legitimately hard pressed and almost lose is something I thought that SEGA would never allow, but I'm glad that they did.

This I like. Sonic is almost never allowed to lose, and almost never is allowed to be pushed to the point where it looks truly dire. Seeing Sonic like this - it's a nice change and I love it.

Anyway, the scenes where the Sonic cast are working with the Justice Leauge are pretty amazing. The Justice League are organized and coordinated and here, it's obvious that the League have taken control of the situation and that the Sonic cast are playing back up, but I don't mind that too much.

We have a few fight scenes where we see flashes of battles. Props to the developers and writers, but these scenes are very well drawn and full of action, even if they are only small snippets of action.

Silver totally threw a boat at someone. And I truly love that.

Anyway, these scenes are mostly a bit of filler. They don't really contribute anything to the story, and are just fun things to look at without much drama or clout.

Sonic, when you can phase through goddamn solids by vibrating at a certain frequency and also travel through time through speed alone, then you can brag about how fast you are.

Also, this is kind of a weird thing, but in this panel Superman looks really androgynous. Not a problem, but I just wanted to point it out.

Also of note we see that Shadow can use Chaos Control to basically obliterate anyone he pleases, because Shadow is shockingly powerful.

And then he brags.

Seeing Shadow talk about how powerful he is, and also seeing how very, very ruthless he is makes me happy. And yes, he is co operating with others - something that I thought Shadow was completely incapable of.

Seriously, Shadow would have to slow down by a lot just so that Batman could keep up.

So, Darkseid uses the Chaos Emerald to start to unmake the world, because he's a genocidal monster. The stakes are incredibly high, and it's clear that everyone is out of time - Darkseid has to be stopped now before he unmakes reality.

Also, the Emeralds are now EVEN MORE POWERFUL THAN BEFORE. Something that I'm not a fan of. It seems as if these gems can do literally anything you can imagine, and it's a sign of power creep in sonic media.

Anyway, Eggman shows up, and says that he's going to help out a bit. This is typical Eggman - a threat of this magnitude cannot be ignored under any circumstances, so of course he's going to intervene since this is his world to rule.

So, Eggman helps them get on board the Ragna Rock.

Ramming speed, no?

Gotta admit, this issue is jam packed full of action. Far more than I would expect from usual sonic fare. Usually the action is closer and more personal, but with Eggman able to bring his escalation these comics can go much higher and further, making things much more spectacular.

Anyway, Darkseid gets hit from all sides, causing him to get crushed. This was inevitable becasue the league is powerful, but having such heavy hitters along as well changes everything.

Shadow, being Shadow, lets his ego get the better of him, and no body expected that Darkseid would be FREAKING IMMUNE TO CHAOS CONTROL, nor that such power is why he is here in the first place.

Also, the one panel that got redrawn a thousand times.

After this, things quickly go to hell. Unable to handle the incredible power of the Chaos Emeralds the World Ending Machine quickly starts to malfunction. Everything starts to come undone, and the Justice League decide to make an ultimate sacrifice and doom themselves to save the world.

But Batman sends Sonic and his friends through a boom tube - He seems to expect them to be able to save the world.

And with the world seemingly destroyed (yeah right) the issue ends with Sonic and his cast on the Watch Tower orbiting Earth.

And now for some general thoughts.

This issue was good and fun. The ass kissing from the first issue is noticeably absent, and the action was nice and fun. There wasn't a lot of dialogue, with everything focused on the emergency, but there was always something happening which meant that things kept a brisk pace.

I had fun, and so long as I have fun, I think it's worth my time.

After this is the issue I hate the most, issue 3, which makes me kind of angry just reading it.

(sigh) have some Amy. I like Amy she calms me down.

[jjungkooksthighs]

When she scrabbles in her speech and scrambles ever closer between his legs, he laughs so darkly even the shadows lose their way around him. “If you understand, then take your fucking punishment and stop whining about it.” His hand hastens along his shaft, the wet sound of it making her cunt throb and her mouth water as she stares. “You will not have earned my forgiveness until you feel exactly I did.” He squeezes, his hand twisting up before it descends down his member, “And when I make myself come, the only thing you will be doing, Pack Omega Lily, is licking it up off my stomach and cock.” With his eyes closed, he can’t see the disappointed pout on her face. But then, he doesn’t need to have them open to know that’s what she’s doing. He’s been around her long enough- has watched her long enough- that the smallest of her habits he now has memorized as if some sacred secret that could never be forgotten. Which is why when the hand he has grabbing her chin lifts just so that he can push his thumb past her parted lips, he orders, “Suck on that like you’ll suck my cock when I’m finished.” “As you…as you wish, Pack Alpha Jungkook.” She answers obediently. She knew that when he used that title, there was no room for disobedience. None who used it when addressing him ever did. It was a title of respect. More than that, it was a title of power. No other title was coveted and revered like that of this one that was reserved only for the leader of the alphas. And likewise for her title, the overseeing and presiding leading omega. Warmth envelops his digit as she obeys without pause. And the moment she hallows her lips around him, her tongue swirling around his thumb, he tugs on his length once, twice, and then he’s coming with a loud, drawn out groan. His essence spurts from his tip like some erotic fruit, and gods, she wants to taste. He knows it. Of course he does as hot beads of his juices land all over his belly. Still, he keeps his head back and his eyes closed as he works himself through his end. She licks her lips as she ogles the way the creamy release coats his toned stomach while she leans forward, her body moving entirely on its own as she watches his cum slide between his defined abs. He hears that. And he’s not done with her yet. She still has much to atone for. “Don’t you fucking dare put your mouth on me until I tell you that you can, whore.” He rasps.

The sight of his throbbing cock tells her that he's close, and her hands twitch, the urge to push his hands off and let her take care of the rest eating away at her. No.. this.. this wasn't.. this isn't fair!! "A-alpha!" she wants to shout out, but, she's far too tired to do anything more than whisper. He doesn't pay attention to her. He knew exactly what he was doing. And fuck.. he was doing it well. "a-Aalpha.. alpha! N-no! Alpha! P-please!" She pleads him. This wasn't fair.. this wasn't fair at all! Just when she's about to shout out once more, he pushes the two fingers he has in her mouth inside roughly, gagging her for just a moment, tears springing to her eyes in the process, leaving her a whining mess on the floor. A loud whimper leaves her at the sight of his upcoming peak, and before she can even think about it, she leans forward, just about ready to lick it all of, wanting nothing more than to taste her alpha, and to earn his praise. He- he can't just do this! He.. he wouldn't go through with it, right? He'd let her do this.. he wouldn't be so mean. He'd show her some mercy.. right?.. While her eagerness did send shivers down his spine, it also stirred about the snuffed out ire once more. “Don’t you fucking dare put your mouth on me until I tell you that you can, whore.” He rasps. Before she can respond, however, she sees him tip his head back, his shoulders slinking back in the arm chair in a relaxed manner as he moans her name over and over, louder than ever. No... Her chest heaves up and down, almost furiously. He really did go through with it. Fuck.. He'd just given himself the pleasure she was supposed to, and now.. she can't do it again. No.. No! This.. this is not fair.! Before she knows it, frustration and sorrow seep through her all at once as they bubble up to the surface, escaping her in the form of a low, almost feeble growl. "Y-you're... y-you're being mean, alpha!" she growls out brattily, the sound of it rupturing the silence in the air. His eyes fly open to gaze at her with a lazy smirk, his forehead gleaming with sweat, an eyebrow raised, his head tilted to the side in an almost predatory stance, as if enjoying how frustrated she seems to have gotten. The sight of it has arousal and frustration swimming through her all at once. "Y-you can't just do this!" Her lips tremble as she stares him in the eye, and she can't help but want to cry at how he simply arches an eyebrow at her, barely acknowledging her. However, tears don't make their way down her face. She's far too angry, frustrated and utterly shocked to cry. That in itself riles her up even more. He couldn't just do this! No! Her hands ball up into tiny fists as she weakly pushes against his chest while she throws a tiny tantrum on the carpeted floor below him. He doesn't seem to appreciate it, but, she doesn't seem to notice. A low growl leaves him in warning, but, she pays no heed to it. "N-not fair, alpha!" she cries out, a quiet shriek leaving her frustrated form, pushing against his chest once more, but to no avail. He was far too strong for her to be able to move with a mere flick of her wrist.. "T-this is not f-fair!.. not fair, alpha.. y-you're.. no!.. " she rambles with shrieks and a frustrated pout as she glares up at him. "not fair!"

What had been a flare of amusement in his eye had soon become a storm as anger takes him over. The more she whines out, the more palpable that emotion becomes as those eyes of his become dark and clouded by fury's pitch.

"Not fair?" The vocables are heavy and pelt her more than any rain could. "You dare say that this was unfair, whore? After everything you have done to me?" He jams another finger between her lips, his soiled hand releasing itself from his cock to wrap around her throat unforgivingly. "You do not get to say that to me after all of that." He closes his hand tight around her neck. "You did not deserve to pleasure me. And you know, I was going to consider letting you taste me, but after this display?" He lifts his lips to bare his teeth, "I think not."

[totaleclipse573]

Okay FINE my brain did the Starline au thing it likes to do (not that great, but I had to do something once the idea came to mind)

———————————

Well this was…strange. To say the least. 

When Eclipse found that little notebook hidden underneath his own mattress, he expected it to be blank. For some reason. The idea of messing around and checking to see if anything was in there seemed sort of wrong to him. In a sense that it held something he��really wouldn’t like.

Something compelled him anyway. Maybe it was just the fact that it was from before.

He was still curious about what he was like. If he was that much different now. It certainly felt like it, what with the way everyone was acting lately.

After looking around for any sign of others nearby at the moment, he opened it to a random page, closer to the middle of the entire notebook. Everything was written in big, messy letters, seemingly with a red marker. He wasn’t all that good at writing and spelling…could barely read his own nonsense for a second.

The top of the page simply had “VENGANCE PLAN” with zigzag lines around it, and was very messily underlined. The points written down? The first one was to “EAT ROUGES MAKEUP” (with eat being underlined.) The second, “EAT SHADOWS COFE BEANS” (eat was, yet again, underlined.) And the third…”EAT SOMETHING OF OMEGAS.” (Same as the first two.) How creative.

What caught his attention the most was all of the little drawings around the page. The ones of each person beside their point, others seemingly depicting parts of this ‘master plan,’ and some just being. Entirely unrelated, as far as he knew. What was that blue hedgehog even on here for?

The worst part was, they were all poorly drawn stick figures. What an artist he was. 

…No, that wasn’t the worst part. Why was there so much…SHADOW in this thing?

He started flipping back pages, and almost every one had at least one mention of Shadow in it. Something he did that day that made Eclipse mad at him, or think too much about him, or even just laugh at him. Something Eclipse was planning to do to him. Something he learned about Shadow that he would most definitely use to his advantage later and needed to be taken note of. Something about how he wished he knew how they could be brothers, like Sonic and Tails are. He had so much to say just. About. Shadow.

He wanted to scribble all over it. Tear it out. Crumple it up and pretend he was never there.

He didn’t even care!

He never cared!

Shadow never cared about me….

Eclipse closed it and shoved it away. It made him feel frustrated and angry and upset and hurt and betrayed and overwhelmed and afraid and…

…This was what it was like, wasn’t it.

He used to like having Shadow around. 

Before someone got into his head and changed everything about him.

He wasn’t scared of Shadow, nor did he hate him. Not entirely, anyway. He couldn’t. Not before all this happened. 

Supposedly, they had somewhat of a bond. It’s why he came to…rescue him. Even if that bond was complex then, and shattered now, it was there. That’s why there was so much of him. But he didn’t know if he could get that back.

He couldn’t get his old self back. Not ever. Did that mean everything else was gone too? The only thing Eclipse could ever feel now when he even caught sight of Shadow was a fear greater than anything else he had ever felt in his life. It didn’t feel like there was any way out of that. This was just…him now.

He didn’t do anything for a while. Just sat there, lost in his own thoughts, as he usually did nowadays.

He grabbed the notebook back with his tail. 

A few pages after the one he had originally landed on, there was something about him going to train with Shadow again. And how it would probably be fun, if Shadow wasn’t such a party pooper this time, with the smaller extra note of “he ALWAYS is” and a little doodle of himself, tongue sticking out.

Everything else was blank after that. 

Things would never be like that again. No matter how hard he tried. He had already messed everything up. It was all his fault and now he couldn’t reverse anything.

Shadow hates me.

I hate Shadow the Hedgehog.

If everything seemed to point to those things not being true…

Then why wouldn’t they stop replaying in his head anyway…?

Eclipse has a little notebook where he just writes random things in huge letters + silly doodles sometimes. I refuse to believe this isn't true. You can't make me. Grabs a marker and just does that in his free time. He writes his vengeance plans in there and right next to them there's stick figure doodles of that person please listen.

[onsunnyside]

φ⌎ 𝟏. 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | dark alpha!fratboy!Steve Rogers x omega sorority!reader (dark A/B/O college AU)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | DARK themes/elements, A/B/O dynamics, 6’6” Steve, mean!Steve, manipulation, (little bit of) soft!DARK, misogyny (within A/B/O designations), assault, sexual tension, scenting, SMUT - minors DNI, non-con to dub-con, coercion, fingering (f), dirty talk, daddy kink, size difference, degradation, dumbification, choking, spitting, p*ssy slapping, squirting, grinding (dry humping, bulge riding), spanking, (a hint of) dacryphilia (but not really, he does lick tears though), humiliation, major power imbalance, possessive behaviour

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | It’s hell week at Howard College and Arcadia Phi has traded their pledges for the fresh faces of Kappa Phi, and you’re one of them. Based off this ask.

𝗪/𝗖 | 9.88K

𝗔/𝗡 | here we go ! and because this is me, the frat is full of familiar characters. I made up the frat/sorority names, steve gives me bully vibes (a bully to other people) but it’s just him acting all high and mighty bc he’s an alpha. pls don’t ask me about frat/sorority chapters, i’m making things up/changing things in this fic. all mistakes are my own. this is a dark fic, the warnings have been given—if you don’t like it, don’t read.

˗ˏˋ𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A loud banging on the door makes you jump before you blindly scramble for your clothes. Squinting is useless in the darkness, but you make out the vague shadow looming from under the door as an unmistakable musk follows. It’s woody and smokey, and has been burnt into your brain the moment you walked into the frat house.

“What’s taking so long, legacy! Those floorboards aren’t going to scrub themselves.” A deep voice booms, followed by another round of knocks as the doorknob rattles. “You better come out before we come in.”

“Let her hide, Bucky.” Someone else laughs, “We’ll see how long until Steve breaks the door down.”

You swing open the door, “I wasn’t hiding.” You correct in irritation, holding your clothes to your chest.

“Awfully suspicious amount of time in there then. You know, some girls just got changed out in the open.” Another man quips, his cardigan hanging over his shoulders, “Why couldn’t you do the same, sweetheart? Are you shy?”

“Bryce, shut up.” The blond on your right speaks up, no longer a silent observer.

You meet those clear blue eyes that have been drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Almost subconsciously, you take a step backwards to put some distance between the two of you.

Steve is leaning on the wall, his thick arms crossed over his defined chest, the seams of his t-shirt nearly burst as he flexes. “Why did you take so long?”

You uncomfortably shift as dozens of leers fall on you, searing straight through the skimpy maid costume. “The lightbulb went out and I couldn’t see.” You tug on the back of the dress, hoping to save at least an ounce of your dignity.

The alpha stares at you a minute longer, analyzing your features before snapping his fingers. “One of you get on the counter and change the light.”

A girl your age surges forward, a bright and suave smile on her face as she passes the frat brothers. You keep your head up and slip out of the dark bathroom.

A warmth ghosts your arm, a slow Brooklyn drawl following suit, “Better get with the others, legacy.”

After tucking away your clothes, you sink back into the small crowd of girls, each of you is clad in your costumes. Varying in colour combinations, but all in the same style, right down to the little lace apron around your waists.

The volunteer from earlier returns, a skip in her step as she takes position front and centre, she’s one of the few girls completely comfortable in these circumstances.

Steve walks forward, exchanging a few words with a brunet alpha. You scan over his body, begrudgingly admiring the way his shirt clings to his biceps, well-built chest and tapering to his thin waist. Finally, you reach his long legs and thick thighs outlined by his dark jeans, but before your eyes can go rogue, you feel a nudge.

Wanda is smiling cheekily. “The pictures didn’t do him justice, right?”

You briefly recall the various photos plastered on the school’s website and social media—Steve Rogers, one of the most prominent figures at Howard College. Most known for being the captain of the football team and the vice president of his fraternity, which itself was exclusively for male alphas, leading to a rowdy bunch of men with egos the size of the moon.

You turn to Wanda and lie, “I don’t remember them.”

The beta looks unconvinced, as expected. Ever since you met her last year, she’s been able to read you like an open book, those inquisitive green eyes peeking through your brain to read the thoughts you haven’t organized yourself. Although, you’ve grown used to her poking and prodding, in an endearing way.

Glancing around at the other pledges, they’re all wearing the same hazy expression, utterly taken by the gods of campus a few feet away.

“You seem a little affected despite not remembering…” She trails off, wiggling her nose.

Your eyes widen and your arms wrap around you. “Really!”

“No, but now I know you were lying.” She replies smugly, flipping her long auburn hair over her shoulder. “As if I could pick you out amongst these ones.”

You deflate, thankful your body hadn’t proven that stereotype right—that omegas are sensual fiends and just easy toys—yet another conception that has haunted you for your whole life.

A loud clap echoes through the room, and everyone’s attention snaps to Steve. He’s taller and bigger than his frat brothers, naturally domineering every other person in the room as he slowly paces. “Welcome to Arcadia Phi, ladies, it’s a good thing you’re all easy on the eyes.” He pauses in front of one girl, frowning, “Almost all of you.”

The eruption of laughter makes you cower backwards, your chest aching for the poor girl. Steve was living up to his reputation as clear as day—the vain, cruelly praised star who couldn’t do any wrong, but on the off chance he did, no one would care. His high and mighty designation and status blind any accountability. You’ve only heard a handful of rumours where people disagreed with him, and only a few actually spoke up about it, but you don’t know what happened after the fact.

Who knows what these ruthless alphas are capable of?

The sons of other alphas who have had the world on a silver platter since their presentation. Taking over society with a snap of their fingers as everyone falls to their knees—in submission or fear.

You hated it, but it’s also all you’ve ever known. A little bit of hope sparks in your chest, a faint perhaps things will change. In your past year at this college, you’ve been blessed to avoid the inevitable consequences that come with being a young, unclaimed omega. The disrespect and objectification, and the horror stories of assault and things even worse.

It hurts even more because of your current predicament, dressed in the most scandalous outfit for the pleasure of these men.

It was unfair to be blessed to not face challenges that no one should ever come across. And, that perhaps burns brighter every time you daydream about a life without any struggles or hardships, where your thoughts and words matter, where your voice can be heard and not disregarded solely based on what you are.

Everyone else was given a chance to be something when they presented, for omegas, it was the opposite. The opportunities slip from your grasp before you can even consider them. Truly doomed by your predestined fate. A mere passenger to the life already written for you.

Howard College has stated multiple times that they’re all for omega rights, but their efforts and representation within the board and council are severely lacking. Their words are silenced by their actions, only confirming their true beliefs.

You weren’t surprised.

It was an awful reflection of society itself. The divide gets thicker every day, between alphas, betas and omegas. Alphas and betas were more common than omegas—but that didn’t halt any ill-treatment, it never did and you dread it never will. Growing up, you’ve heard stories about omega trafficking, and that in some places, breeding programs are still legalized and it’s mandatory for omegas to be claimed within five years of presenting.

At least you weren’t in any of those pieces of hell on earth.

Unfortunately, worldwide, omega rights are nothing but an afterthought. Something to consider after everything else has been handled and stabilized, only when there is care and consideration to spare.

Being at the bottom of the barrel, nothing you say or do could help—so you bite your tongue, tugging at your skirt. God, the more you thought about it, the angrier you got. The audacity and self-entitlement radiating from the men across the room were suffocating. But a voice in your head warns you to steer clear of the fratboys who are notorious for coining the term; omega slut walk.

The vice president stops in front of your side of the group, looming over a beta. When he flashes a charming smile, she sighs dreamily, “A few of you are quite pleasing to look at.”

Some of the girls giggle, flirtatiously fluttering their lashes.

Steve stops short, “I didn’t say I want to hear any of you.” He raises his hand as silence takes over, “That’s better. Just look pretty and do what we say, all right? Then, you’ll all be in our sister sorority.” He pauses, a short test for any rulebreakers, but there aren’t any and he nods in approval.

“Now, ladies, this house hasn’t been deep cleaned in a while.” He stands with his feet spread shoulder-width apart, “So, be thorough, be quiet unless you’re spoken to, and I’ll put in a good word with Maria. Got it?” Everyone silently nods. “You can speak.”

“Yes, Steve.” You all say at once.

The blond cockily grins at his friends. “Good girls, now, line up for your supplies.” He gestures to the kitchen.

The group of you move towards the doorway in a neat line, lips sealed tight as the fratboys talk amongst themselves. Some outrightly compliment the fit of the costumes, their muffled lewd comments make your cheeks heat up.

“Where’s Ari?” One of the betas asks, she’s at the end of the line with her arms crossed over her chest. “He’s the president, why isn’t he here?”

The tall blond quirks a brow, “Last time I checked, his whereabouts isn’t something you need to know.”

“You can’t give orders—I heard Maria made the deal with Ari, not you.”

Steve clears his throat, an unnerving gaze locked on her face. It drags on long enough that the line has completely stalled until someone pushes ahead. Now, you and Wanda stand by the kitchen doorway. You glance back again, and Steve hasn’t moved, neither has the girl—and it’s a flicker, barely noticeable from where you stand, but she slightly recoils. And, like that, Steve pounces.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get your pledge redacted.” His voice booms as he tilts his head, “Was it worth opening your mouth, beta?”

“I—”

“Curtis, open the door.” The brunet with a buzzcut clicks open the lock, welcoming the afternoon sun as a fresh breeze blows through, but it’s futile against the tension. “Go on, walk out. Leave because you’d rather speak than join Kappa Phi.”

The girl looks at everyone else, wordlessly begging for a saviour, a courageous person to stand up against the vice president but no one does. You’re all either too afraid or too infatuated to even dare and hopelessly, she leaves. Gathering her belongings and slowly walking out of the frat house.

“Maybe we should call this the stupid beta walk.” The man from earlier, Bryce scoffs.

It’s quite comedic watching the other alphas collectively sigh, as if they’re only aware of the doucheness when Bryce opens his mouth. It wouldn’t surprise you if that’s why they kept him around, to make them look better because even within their designations, alphas need to be the absolute best.

With an ego so vast it made room for a new one, blooming from right in the centre.

One of the other brothers pulls Steve aside, he’s the one who was banging on the bathroom door. Bucky is almost as tall as Steve but his hair is longer and darker. Their build is similar, packed with muscles straining against their clothes but Bucky’s skin is slightly more tanned.

Everyone takes turns gathering supplies; some grab a bottle of cleaner and a rag, others take a small bucket and a sponge. You’re one of the last ones and take a sponge and bucket, dipping your finger in the warm water as you retreat to the small group of girls. All of the different scents overwhelm your nose, ranging from antiseptic to bitter to intensely sweet, the betas surrounding you shake with anticipation.

Alphas give each of you tasks all around the house. Some are sent back to the kitchen, the living room or one of the bathrooms. You’re all dismissed with alphas to keep an eye on you, supervisors to bark out demands.

You’re following a few girls to the living room, then settling into a corner, dipping the sponge in the bucket before scrubbing the discolouration on the floorboards. It’s probably a spill from one of their legendary parties.

As you halfheartedly listen to the alphas talk to each other and the occasional vile comment, you remind yourself why you’re doing this.

Wanda’s gleaming face appears in your head, her eyes lighting up at the thought of belonging to the sorority, Kappa Phi, one of the best for betas and omegas—although there have only ever been a few omegas accepted. And unfortunately, you weren’t one of them last year and that’s how you met Wanda, bonding over being rejected from the sorority.

Wanda called Kappa Phi perfect, although not as known as Arcadia Phi. There wasn’t a fraternity like it, with the most celebrity alums and best leaders with successful lives. Sometimes you wonder how those self-serving souls were gifted with great lives, then you realize that’s how society treats alphas—feeding into their hunger, fueling their greed and egos.

Just like that, Wanda’s face transforms into your mother’s disappointed frown, the same one she wore when you told her the news last year.

“Legacy.” A voice singsongs, “Cap would like to speak to you.”

“I can speak for myself.” Steve pushes off the wall. Anxiety scatters your thoughts, because you didn’t know he was there.

Steve can make his presence known if he wants, which has become very clear since you entered Arcadia Phi. And when he doesn’t, he can seamlessly blend in. You bitterly think about him having a choice. To be seen, to be heard, to be feared—all while you are the unseen, ignored and disregarded, and one who is fearful of people like him.

The most terrifying monsters trick you into believing they aren’t monsters at all. Playing on your trust, only to clamp their fangs in your neck when you least expect it, and yank you into their depths.

There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Steve was one of those monsters, and you were positive he knew he was too.

“Are you sure? All you’ve done is stare at her like a piece of meat.” A dark-haired man speaks up, his sweater sleeves rolled up while the ring and bracelet glimmer against his pale skin.

“Actually, you two stand up.” Steve’s lips are pressed in a firm line. The girl next to you stands, her blond hair in a low ponytail and her green eyes narrowed. “You go upstairs to the first door on the left, and you,” Steve cocks his head, his gaze unabashedly dragging over your body and lingering on your breasts, “You’ll clean my room.”

The girl walks away with confidence, ignoring the alphas who praise the fit of her costume. With a straightened posture, you follow after her, facing forward with the wet sponge in your hand. Steve stands by the bottom of the stairs, emanating a force that both lures and repels you.

“What’s your name?” His hand falls to your waist like it’s been there a million times before, the warmth sinking through your clothes.

You tell him your name as you stop at the last door on the right. It’s strikingly different from the rest, as if it were painted with a fresh coat of white, it stood out among the busted, stained or cracked doors. Your reflection shines in the doorknob, distorted with visible unease over your features.

His arm brushes yours as he unlocks the door, the key slipping out before he dangles it in front of your face.

“I like my privacy. My brothers tend to just do whatever they want.”

The door slowly swings open, as silent as a breath of air. The walls are a dark blue, almost a rich navy and contrasting against the blinding white bedspread, the sheets wrinkled and half off of the mattress. There’s a desk in the corner cluttered with a shiny laptop, pens and textbooks, as messy as yours back at your dorm. The nightstands are mostly clean, apart from a small stack of books and a lamp on each.

There is an arrangement of paddles on the wall. Some are a plain light wood tone and one, in particular, is a design of red, white and blue, all of them display the same thing; Greek letters, the fraternity crest, along with ‘Big Bro Steve’ above the other name.

The wide window is open, a soft wind flows through, lightly rustling the curtains and the various posters taped on the walls—ranging from school promotions, and fraternity and football related. Nothing beyond that, not even a movie or a band which leads you to believe Steve was as one-dimensional as a sheet of paper—his life revolved around school, his fraternity and football.

Bland, but you had no protests because then he’d be easy to forget. Except, those nerves come rushing back again when you spot something on his four-poster bed. On the metal frame by the fluffy pillows are two pairs of handcuffs, unlocked and glaring at you straight in the face.

“Oops, forgot I left those there.”

The way he speaks makes you think he’s lying. Behind you, Steve dips down and takes a deep breath inches away from your head and growls lowly in his chest. Your toes curl in your shoes as your mind tells you to run far away and never come back, but Wanda’s hopefulness and your mother’s dismay root you into the floor of the house.

You needed a spot in Kappa Phi. Even if that meant risking being scented by an ill-famed alpha.

“Have you ever been handcuffed? I can imagine you have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself, you like being touched, and touching someone else.” He rasps, “But I have a feeling that you’re better at following rules than others. Putting on this little dress without any complaints, just a polite request to change in the bathroom.”

You clench your jaw when he tugs at the bow of the apron, “Can I just clean?”

You gasp and the water splashes and gets on your dress—it was a costume, made of cheap flimsy material that wouldn’t survive a gust of wind, and it definitely wouldn’t survive a strong alpha like Steve. He has the tie wrapped in his fist, the fabric digs into your front and pulls you into his chest, keeping you firmly against him.

“Did you leave your manners downstairs?” He doesn’t shout, his words are quiet and low and that only makes them more unsettling.

“N-No.” You despise the rapid beating of your heart, your natural instincts kicking in and nearly forcing you under his submission. “I’m sorry, can I please clean?” Your ass brushes over the firm bulge in his pants.

“Pretty, sweet and smart? Makes me wonder how an omega like you is still unmated.” He releases you and he reaches for your scent gland, but you quickly shuffle into his bedroom. Steve just chuckles, “Eager to please too—sounds to me that you’re picture-perfect material.”

“What should I clean first?” You avoid his gaze, finding great interest in the gentle ripples of the water in the bucket. You can’t let him that close again, and you shouldn’t have let him that close in the first place. If he touches your spot, you’d be another notch on his belt and another omega on the slut walk list—because yes, there was a list and it’s plastered in the living room.

It didn’t help that he smells so good, earthy and borderline spell-inducing. He makes you sick to your stomach and then that nausea erupts into flames of rage because he’s an asshole standing on a pedestal with his name etched in gold.

Steve made you feel so many things when you didn’t even know him. When he was just Howard College’s star player, and that hasn’t changed since you’re feet away from him. Those overwhelming and inconsistent feelings have appeared again. You don’t want him to make you feel anything. Except maybe forgotten, because then he’d leave you alone.

“How about you just get on your knees, omega?”

He doesn’t move, taking up more than half of the entryway as he gestures to the moderate mess of his bedroom. You shiver and obey, turning around and spotting a hamper with clothes hanging over the edge, some on the floor. You drop to your knees, gathering each item as his smell encapsulates your mind. You’re briefly reminded of your boring and plain bedroom, and how much better it would look with a nest.

On the walls of your brain are images of a warm and comforting bundle, varying in pillows and blankets, but most notably, there’s a heaping of fabrics that look awful like Steve’s clothes in your hands.

You start to feel sick again, and if only you could scrub your brain instead of the floorboards.

“Ain’t that a pretty view.” Steve crosses his arms, admiring the view of your upper thighs, “Don’t get any ideas, legacy.”

“What?” You toss the clothes into the basket and cover it. Standing once again, you straighten the bottles of cologne and other belongings on his dresser. It’s a little dusty, so you take the sponge from the bucket and wipe it down.

“You might want to snatch something of mine. Wouldn’t be the first time an omega tried to steal from me. I’ve been told I have an irresistible scent, I mean, it’s nothing like yours but could be a runner up.”

You try to focus on your tasks. Going from his nightstands to his closet, hanging up a few clothes that have fallen and organizing the shoes on the rack. You’re kneeling in the closet when one of his fraternity brothers pops up, you ignore them as best you can, sorting the different sneakers, boots and dress shoes.

A loud laugh startles you, making you drop a pair of sneakers.

“Oh, she’s jumpy?” You vaguely remember that voice, you’ve heard him in a few of your lectures.

“She’s cute, right? Like a little bunny.”

Your head snaps back as you glare at Steve. Every moment you spend in his presence makes you want to do something, to be more than a mere bystander, but to an extent because you didn’t want to make him too angry. You still wanted to—needed to join Kappa Phi.

It turns out your heated glare was barely anything, and all you get is a coy wink from the tall blond.

“Honey, are you okay down there?” The older alpha, Andy asks, faint dimples under his thick beard, “You don’t look like the kind to spend a lot of time on your knees.”

You abruptly stand, narrowed gaze set on the two burly men by the door. They have you caged in with a mocking gleam on their faces, daring you to say whatever your little fiery heart desires. Say it, tell them what assholes they are, how they deserve nothing they have—how their self-righteousness is just them making up for their lack of knot.

Fucking say it.

You can feel the frustration buzzing in your chest, but your throat and lips refuse to cooperate, forcing the rest of you to just bubble in silent fury. Opening your mouth would be digging your own grave, but the cold and wet dirt is better than Steve’s and any other alpha’s poisoned presence.

If only you were immune to whatever toxicity was streaming through their veins and draped in their words.

Silently defeated by yourself and their taunting expressions, you turn away and dust your dress, belittling yourself for retreating so quickly.

“Good choice, legacy.” Andy quips, “what else are you willing to do for a spot in Kappa?”

“If I tell you, will it happen?” You busy yourself with Steve’s desk. Organizing the pens and pencils into the mason jar, before moving onto the sheets of paper.

“Depends what it is.”

“I’m willing to redo that law essay you flunked on.” You face them again, and Andy has a surprised, but pleased smile on his face. Steve is the opposite, his eyebrows are furrowed while his lips are pressed in a firm line.

“Yeah? Do you want to tutor me too?”

Steve steps forward, inserting himself between you and the other alpha like a brick wall. “You can’t do a thorough job if you’re distracted. Do you want him to leave?”

You hold the papers to your chest, “Pardon?”

“Tell him, show me that you’re Kappa Phi material.” He smirks. “Tell him to leave us alone, omega.”

The sheets crinkle in your hands as you tense. Speaking back to alphas was only a fantasy, sure you’ve dreamt of kicking their teeth in, but you have never crossed that line.

Omega—he was reminding you of your designation, as if you could forget it. But you knew he only wanted to rub it in, to summon that dread and watch it bleed onto your features because omegas could never tell an alpha what to do and have the same impact of an alpha demanding an omega.

Your words would be nothing but white noise, as forgetful as an advertisement on the radio and no one would listen because no one had to. Not like omegas who bowed down at the first syllable of an alpha using their alpha voice or being subject to a great deal of pain.

You couldn’t tell an alpha what to do, not without looking like a fool, even if it was one as casual and collected as Andy.

“C’mon, I know there’s a little spice in all that sweetness. You’ve wanted to open your mouth since you walked in here, and now I’m permitting you to.” Steve comes closer until he stands a few inches from you, his stature towers over you like a mountain.

“G-Go away.”

Andy chuckles from the door, “What was that?”

Steve grabs your chin, “That’s not what I told you to say, darling.”

You can’t tell if the aching you feel is your pride or your loneliness thriving in the attention—you haven’t been the object of one's attention, alpha or beta, in a very long time.

“Leave us alone, Andy.” You’re frozen in the pools of blue surrounded by thick lashes. As if it weren’t enough for his body to be your wet dream, his face was a work of art. Chiselled cheekbones, strong jaw and a prominent nose. Clear skin sprinkled with freckles and beauty marks, and pink plump lips that stretched into a prince-like smile.

You hated to find him so attractive, but the world has never been on your side anyway.

The brunet pushes off the doorframe, “I guess I’ll check on the other girl in the bathroom. Be gentle with this one, Steve, she seems more delicate than your last toy.”

And, just like that, you’re flung back into reality. Steve is also a player, known for his various relations that never last more than a few weeks. He’s probably been with more than most think. Some are too ashamed for everyone to know that Steve Rogers had them, then dumped them like trash on the side of the road.

Typical Arcadia alphas, plucking people left and right then ditching them when they get bored or when a new spark catches their attention.

You don’t want to be that for Steve. You refuse to be the new object of his affection—because that’s how he’d treat you, something to show off until he doesn’t want you anymore.

Not to mention you just hated everything he stood for.

The easy life, the self-entitlement, privilege and downright mean attitude, selfishness and arrogance rolled into one.

You just need to keep a distance, keep reminding yourself why you’re here and that he’s just a bad man. A terrible man who shouldn’t even be touching you right now. You take a step back and distract yourself with his desk. Filing through the textbooks and setting them on the small shelf.

“I’ve seen you around campus. Do you have a dorm here?”

“I do.” You answer short. You’ve seen him riding his bike and revving the engine. Zooming down the campus streets with a leather or denim jacket. The supposed legend in the making, but right now, he was just the shadow looming over your shoulder, chilling to the bone.

Steve pulls out his desk chair and sits down, relaxing on the cushions and spreading his thighs. His foot knocks yours. “I haven’t had a dorm room, just tried for Arcadia and got in so I’ve lived here for about two years now.”

You just nod, gathering the small bunches of sticky notes and scattered paper clips.

“Those go in the drawer.” He runs a hand through his hair, a twinkle in his eyes.

You open the drawer and are welcomed with strips of condoms and tubes of lube. Your cheeks go hot as you drop the items in and slam it shut. “Those should be in your nightstand.”

“Oh, I have them there too. These are just backups.” Steve’s gaze rakes over you as his tongue pokes out to lick his lips. “You tried to get into Kappa last year.”

You’re doing this for Wanda and your mother, and you need to try even harder than you did last year. Maybe after this, your mother will finally return your calls, you can only hope that one day, she’ll recognize the wrongness in her actions. Pushing you away only because you didn’t get into her old sorority. Whether Kappa Phi didn’t accept you because of your designation or other reasons, it’s not fair of her to treat you this way.

“Unlike Arcadia, Kappa is quite easy to get into. They’ll accept anyone like every other frat or sorority on campus.” Steve rolls his eyes, “So, it makes me curious as to why you were denied, legacy.”

“Can you not call me that?” And you quickly add, “Please?”

“That’s what you are. Your mother was in Kappa Phi, and now you’re going to be in it too—maybe, I can still redact your pledge but I wouldn’t want to make momma-legacy upset. Does she know you’re trying again?”

“She would if she answered my calls.”

Steve is quiet for a few seconds before he nods slowly. You grab the sponge and try to move away, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you to stand between his legs. “What’d you do to not get in? Sleep with another girl's partner? Hook up with a professor for some extra credit?”

You scowl. “None of that.”

“My brothers and I have a theory that every omega is a whore until proven innocent.”

You stiffen as his other hand fiddles with the lace hem of your dress, slipping between the first layer to the second and finally to your skin. His fingers trail higher, and you clamp your thighs together, glazing at the open door as his grip on your wrist tightens. You want him to let go and stop, so you say the one thing that has been in your head, “You’re an asshole.”

The second those words leave your mouth, a fresh wave of relief combs over you, but then it freezes like water. The realization is icy cold, stilling in your veins and halting your breath.

“What was that?” He moves fast and stands, crowding you against the desk. The water drips down your elbow as you raise your arms and try to keep him at bay, but it’s useless. He presses against you, the water seeping into his shirt.

“An asshole—am I mean? Like your mother who’s ignoring you because you didn’t get into a sorority?” Steve asks, “I can be much worse than that, and I think you know that.”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he’s close enough that you can see every shade of blue and tint of green in his eyes. His lips are so pink and pillowy soft, you can’t help but lean into his touch like a magnetic force. “You’re looking at me like I’m going to hurt you.”

It’s instinctual and completely out of your control. The warmth he radiates, the raw power and just alpha compelling you. You realize you’ve been fighting him since you met him, and as vigorously as you resisted, he could turn you to mush with a flutter of his eyes.

He hums softly, drinking down your smell like a man starved. When his gaze meets yours again, the iris is a thin ring around the pupil. “And, I just might.” His white teeth gleam maliciously behind a simper.

You snap out of whatever fleeting spell he had you under and inch backwards, willing yourself to stay silent. He steps forward, his thigh slipping between yours and pinning you against the desk.

“I won’t hurt a pretty omega like you unless you give me a reason to.” His Brooklyn twang rings in your ears, drilling the threat into your brain. “So, don’t give me one.”

You nod wordlessly, gripping the sponge so tightly that all the water was gone, and probably on Steve’s shirt and your dress. You can’t move to check because he keeps you in place, provoking you to make a wrong move.

And, unknowingly, you did and Steve sighs in disappointment, you find yourself searching your mind for the cause of it—before a round of cheers grab your attention. Your face slips from Steve’s hold before he grips you again, this time with your chin between his knuckles, lightly pinching you. “Speak, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes, Steve.”

“Good girl.” His touch trails across your jaw, then down your neck. “This is cute.” He notes, touching the silver chain around your neck, all the way to the small circle with the stamped letter. He tuts when you don’t speak. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Thank you, Steve.” You gulp, practically sitting on his desk with his thigh snug between yours. The bottom of your dress is dangerously close to exposing your panties.

“Who’s H?”

“My friend.”

He flips the metal charm, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the engraving. “Your friend.”

“My best friend.” You squirm as his other hand lands on your hip, gently squeezing, “We grew up together but he goes to Harvard.”

“Childhood friends… Isn’t that adorable?” Steve beams, “You’re sentimental, then?” He twirls the necklace around his finger as the chain digs into your neck.

With every swirl of his digit, he brings you another inch closer as his breath fans over your cheeks. “I-I guess.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, his watchful gaze locked on your face, observing every minuscule twitch. “Would you wear my name?”

“What?”

“Would you wear my name right here,” he lightly pulls at the chain, “or would you rather wear my mark,” it almost happens in slow motion. With your arms uselessly sandwiched between your bodies, his touch trails to your scent gland, applying pressure, “right here. Where everyone can see.”

His smell increases tenfold, forming a cloud around you and soaking into your brain. The smoky and woody scent is calming and awakening at the same time. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen, but your defences are fluttering to the ground with every millisecond as he scents you—without your consent. It triggers some of your basic instincts, the innate desire to be claimed by another, to be submissive and at their beck and call.

With the chain in his grasp and a gentle touch of his fingers, he cracks the walls you’ve built to keep yourself safe and secure, to keep yourself separate from your designation and your predestined fate.

You attempt to collect yourself and through uneven breaths, you push him away. Steve doesn’t budge, he only grabs your thigh and hikes it on his waist, forcing you on the desk as your dress flips up. His dark gaze lands on your cotton panties and he growls appreciatively, nostrils flaring.

Your heart beats against your chest, loud enough to rattle your brain. “Please, don’t.” You whisper. “I can’t—I don’t...”

“You don’t?” He rubs your spot in slow circles, “If you don’t want me, then why are you getting wet?” He emphasizes his words by snapping the band of your panties against your skin, drawing closer to your warm centre.

“Because you’re—” You whine, resolve melting away with every delicate motion of his fingers, you slump under his touch.

Weak, you feel so weak yet desired. It’s a cruel curse of euphoria and you hate yourself for it, although it’s completely out of your control.

“You want me, sweetheart. I can see it on your face, I can smell you soaking your panties. I bet if I listen hard enough, I can hear your whiney thoughts begging for me.” Steve’s voice is smooth and deep, “But, all I can hear is your heart racing because you’re excited. Have you ever been touched like this?” His hand brushes over your panties and cups your mound.

“It’s not that.”

Steve’s hold tightens on your necklace as his long and thick fingers start rubbing over the cotton fabric, your wetness unmistakably seeping through. “Then what, omega?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer, not while all of your pent-up frustration comes rushing in. The look in his eyes is hard to pinpoint whether he’s remorseless, fully intrigued or downright enjoying toying with you.

Your lips quiver as tears pool in your eyes. You hate him, and you hate how good he’s making you feel with just a few fingers. You whimper as he tugs your panties to the side, sliding between your slick folds.

“Is it fear?” His tone is light and taunting, “Because that’s even better than excitement and, it looks especially lovely on you, legacy.”

As he releases your necklace, and his warmth on your scent gland leaves too. You’re flooded with ease and without his support, you sag into the shelf on the desk, the textbooks fall and the mason jar of pens tips over, clattering to the ground as the glass rolls away.

Steve tears the front of your dress, the cheap seams giving away under his strength. Your nipples meet the cool air, pebbled and immediately pinched by the alpha standing between your legs. He growls, massaging your tits as his other hand returns to your nub.

“You haven’t been touched in a while. I can tell.” His tone is so wickedly gentle, it’s a sharp contrast to his character. “Look at you, going dumb for me already, getting my desk wet.” He rasps, “C’mon, push me away.”

Your hands land on his forearms as your last line of defence falls.

His eyes lock on yours, his pink lips part in low breaths. “Do it. Tell me you don’t want me.”

Your fingertips press into his skin when he pulls away from your cunt, his big hands land on your inner thighs. A strained whine escapes your throat, a silent plea for more.

“Or, tell me you want me, baby. Cry for me—let me know how bad you want my touch, my fingers in your pretty pussy, my knot in your fuckhole.” Steve massages your flesh, inching closer to your core but never directly touching there, “I want to hear you say it, omega.”

His words are another blow to your pride. You surrender to his undeniable authority, giving in to him because Steve was right, you haven’t been touched in a long time, and everyone was a victim to his command—that didn’t exclude you.

Do you want him?

Do you even have a choice?

“Let me hear you, sweet girl. Give me what I want, don’t you want to make me proud?”

Maybe you did and that’s why he was asking.

You consider it, which might have been your first mistake. After all the rumours you’ve heard, most of them have been proven to be true, you shouldn’t trust him or want to make him proud. Why should his commendation matter when he’s nothing but another alpha with a sense of superiority?

Because he isn’t just another alpha—he’s Steve Rogers.

And he wants you.

You should have stayed far away from him and Arcadia Phi, regardless of your best friend’s and mother’s wishes. But you didn’t, and now look at you, sprawled on his desk with his bedroom door open, scantily clad in a torn maid costume with your most sensitive spot exposed. Your scent gland is still buzzing with his touch, craving more.

Despite your hateful feelings, you want more, you want him. There’s no denying that at this moment.

That’s when the first tear falls down your cheek, leaving a shiny trail in its wake.

“Please touch me, Steve. I-I want you.” You hiccup, reaching for his hands to bring one to your face, the other to your pussy. Your knees hook around his waist, “Want you so bad, alpha.”

His blue eyes twinkle, the corner of his lips quirk up, “That’s my omega.”

You would have never expected your day to end up like this. Willingly giving in to his advances, but maybe that was why you even considered it.

Steve knows the truth. You believed you had a choice when he was going to get what he wanted one way or another. He thrives off your sweet little heart having faith in yourself, it’s adorable. And, he can’t wait to corrupt you.

“Please, Steve.” Your legs fall open, neck craning to watch his skilled fingers trace your hole, barely dipping it before rubbing your clit again. You’re aching for him and anything he can give you.

Your slick drips out and Steve’s mouth waters, he’s seconds away from dropping to his knees and devouring you whole. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? I saw you at orientation—you seemed so lost but eager.” He cups your face, leaning down until his nose brushes yours and finally, one of his fingers pushes in, pressing to his knuckle before drawing out. “You didn’t even fucking look at me.”

You whine, scrambling for his broad shoulders and falling deeper into that blissful headspace.

“As if I wasn’t even there.” He slides in with two fingers, sissoring you open. He pumps in deep, curling his digits to reach your special spot as his thumb lands on your clit, “Now look at you, baby, dripping on my desk, your cunt sucking me in. Bet you’re hungry for a knot, huh?” There’s a softness in his eyes and his touch on your cheek. His warmth sinks to your bones, burning an imprint in the shape of him.

Steve speeds up and adds more power. His bicep flexes with every thrust, working you open as your juices drip down his hand, marking him with your scent. He looms over you, huge and intimidating, making you a compliant mess. His groan rumbles his chest as he pulls out to slap your pussy, the wet noises make your cheeks heat up. “Nearly forced Kappa Phi to take you in but my ex was the president at the time.”

He captures your lips in his, slipping his tongue in your mouth as his palm falls to the side of your neck. Your jaw falls slack as he rubs your gland and penetrates three thick fingers into your tight hole at the same time. Steve growls, biting on your bottom lip before kissing you sloppily. He tastes like mint and he’s demanding and rough, while you’re needy and docile, a perfect match.

You turn away as he picks up pace, spreading his long fingers along your inner walls. Moans flow out of your body and into the open air, shameless and absolute music to Steve’s ears. He stretches you open as the shelf digs into your back, his expert touch bringing you to the edge fast. Heat builds in your belly and even in the thin dress, you feel the sweat on your skin. He spanks your clit, feeding off your mewls along with the lewd sopping noises coming from your core. Your cream has formed a mess under your ass as it’s forced out of your poor hole, dripping down to your rosebud.

“That’s it, you going to come for me, sweet girl? This cunt was made for taking cock, for taking mine—you want my knot, omega? Since you’re this wet from my hand, I bet you’re a stupid mess when you’re in heat. You hear that?” He slaps your cunt in quick succession, “You’re dripping for me, you want me to stretch you open, fuck you until you can’t even think.” He grunts, teeth clenched as your thighs threaten to shut, he prys them apart and swats your clit harder, still pounding you with his fingers. “You’d take my cock if I just asked, huh? You’d let me fill your little cunt, breed you like a dumb slut. I bet you fucking love this.”

You cover your face as you squeal, the back of your head thumping against the wall as you convulse. Your slick pours out, soaking his skin and dripping down his wrist. His pumps don’t stutter or even slow down, he keeps up the intensity and you’ve officially lost your mind. You fist his t-shirt in your other hand, either trying to escape or pull him closer, you don’t even know.

“So fucking tight, you don’t even want me to stop, huh?” He yanks you close by the back of your neck, he spits into your open mouth. “That’s why you squirted all over me, fucking cock hungry whore.” He kisses you although you barely respond, too fucked out and dazed. When he pulls away, he messily traces through your folds, smearing your juices around as he releases your lips with a pop.

The blue in his eyes is hardly visible, but that could just be your watery vision. He brings his hand to your face, spreading his digits as your cream webs between them. “You want a taste, baby?”

You let him slip two fingers into your mouth, pressing to the knuckles and forcing you to clean him. He groans as you gag slightly, tears welling in your eyes as he fucks your mouth just like your cunt. When he deems you’ve had enough, he sucks his ring finger, eyes fluttering shut at your taste. He’s filthy with it, putting on a show, letting you know just how he’d treat your precious pussy with his tongue.

“Tastes even better than I thought.” Steve sighs, and runs his fingers along the bottom half of your face, your wetness mixed with both of your saliva dries on your skin. “Now, if you did that last year during pledge week, you would’ve gotten into Kappa without a doubt.”

You’ve barely managed to catch your breath, still riding on that wave that’s made you question your entire college career. “I-I don’t need your help.”

Steve laughs, easily picking you up and sitting in the chair. Even in his lap, he’s bigger than you. “You just need me. And with that, you’re going to get my help anyway.” He grips your hips as your tingling cunt meets his jeans.

“Wait—” You gasp, “It’s too much, I can’t—”

“You can,” He kisses down your cheek to your jaw, he sucks at the spot right by your scent gland. “And, you will. Make me even prouder, omega. Rub yourself on me, make a mess on my pants. Claim me just like I’ll claim you.” Then, his teeth drag over your spot, immediately making you pliant in his hold and to his voice. “Be a good girl for daddy.”

You tie your arms around his shoulders, wasting no time in grinding against the giant bulge. The denim is rough against your sensitive petals, but it feels so good, it feels better than your pillow at your dorm and with every swirl of your hips, Steve groans freely against your neck.

He tears the back of your skimpy dress and the fabric falls down your body. It hangs from your waist and the skirt flutters with every rock of your hips. Your cunt is tortured by his jeans, your clit rubbed raw and begging for a break, but you can’t give yourself one. Not until Steve wants you to because, despite your best efforts, you’ve fallen victim to his cruel charm and your darkest fantasies.

Steve sucks on your spot, teasing you with nips between his dirty words. You can’t even hear him anymore, your body hums with passion and want. An instinctual desire to obey his every command and be his good girl, you want to claim him—own him like he owns you.

Perhaps the stereotypes about omegas were always right, and you’ve been in denial. Or, Steve is just intoxicating with a magnetic force that draws you in. He’s awoken a longing inside you, one that you didn’t even know existed.

“They said you were one of the smartest omegas on campus, but it doesn’t seem like that now.” Steve grabs your throat with one hand, guiding you over his clothed cock with the other. “I turned you into my little omega, my dumb slut. I can feel your pussy throbbing for me, oh, my pussy—because this tight fuckhole was made for me.” He tightens his hold and licks from your jaw to your cheek. “Aw, are you crying for me? Giving daddy those pretty tears, it’s like you never want me to let you go.”

You struggle against him, hiccuping another pathetic moan as he thrusts upwards, meeting your grinds.

Steve knows you aren’t incapable, not like the rest of the dull and drab students of Howard College. You had a fight in you, albeit timid and frail, it was there and he can only imagine what other fire hides within your soul. He read the hatred and spite on your face like an open book, you weren’t as secretive as you thought and he assumed you’d be trouble. But no, you stayed quiet and obedient until he lured you out.

You had potential, you had shown that with your early resistance and how you treated Andy—fucking Andy, this morning he asked if you could clean his room, but Steve had already made his intentions clear. You were his for the day, and the next, until he was done with you. Which wasn’t anywhere in the near future.

Watching you now, teary eyes rolled in the back of your head and listening to your mewls echo through the room, he hopes Andy and the rest of his frat brothers were listening. Then, they’d know that Steve wasn’t letting you go, they could try, they could beg and fight, and he’d just tease you in front of their noses. Playing with people was fun, and with you in his corner, he’d never lose.

“Fuck, keep going.” Steve hisses, the veins in his neck tense as his head falls back. His fingertips dig into your ass, groping the flesh, “That’s it, you’re doing so good, baby.”

“Daddy, ah please, daddy.”

“What do you need, omega?” Steve pants, flipping up the stubborn skirt to watch your puffy cunt grind against his bulge. The denim is dark under you and he has the perfect view of your spread folds and swollen clit rubbing along his jeans, your sweet slick seeping through his jeans to his skin, he can feel you.

“F-Fuck me, please—I want it, want it.” You repeat, nails dragging down his shirt, your poor hole weeping for him.

He smirks, “My little girl wants my cock? Want me to stretch your tight pussy, fuck you until you don’t have any tears left, pump you full of my cum and fucking breed you?” He spanks you, making you jerk and squeak, “You want to be my omega?”

You nod shakily and reach down, weakly attempting to unbutton his pants but he swats you away. With his feet planted firmly on the ground, he takes control and moves you roughly over his dick. You let out a high-pitched squeal, knees pressing into the cushion of the seat as you try to right yourself, but it’s feeble against his strength.

“You want my cock so bad that you’ll just pull it out without my permission?” Steve’s stomach tightens as the tears trail down your cheeks, slipping into the corners of your parted mouth. “Thought you’d know better now.”

You grab onto his wrists, piercing his skin with your nails, “I-It’s too much!” Your cry.

“It’s not enough.” He grabs your throat, not tight enough to restrict airflow but firm enough to let you know he can, and it only makes you greedier. You try to meet his grinds but you’re just bouncing on his lap.

“D-Daddy, I can’t.”

“You can.” He insists, getting closer to the edge. He imagines your tight hole clenched around his cock as he stuffs his knot into you. “You can, and you will.”

You weep, “...can’t.”

Steve has always loved a little challenge and he knows you’re an omega who hoped for more, who craved for more—and it was ultimately intriguing. To tame the feisty attitude bubbling inside of you, the same flicker he sees when he speaks again. “You can’t come.”

Your eyes shoot open, a torn and angry expression on your face, “But—”

“Shush now, baby.” He groans, cheeks flushed red as his whole body tenses, and he never stops moving you over him. “I said make a mess, I didn’t say you could come. Tell me you want to be mine.”

“Daddy, please—” You whimper, the tightness in your belly becoming too much.

Steve swats your ass harshly, “fucking say it.”

Your cunt throbs between your thighs, the denim has rubbed you raw, “I-I want to be yours, daddy.”

Steve groans gutturally, his back arches as his eyes flutter shut. Throaty praises ring in your ears, his hold is so tight that they’ll be bruises tomorrow. His muscles flex, his abs, biceps and thick thighs under you, and you can feel his cock swell up under your core. His knot is going to waste and you whine.

Steve's hair falls against his forehead as he looks at you, blue eyes full of bliss and perhaps even devotion—he’s beautiful and evil.

You sniffle quietly, feeling his warm cum seeping through the denim. “You’re so mean…”

Steve’s chest heaves, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Thought we already established that, baby?”

The open air is exactly what you need as you limp down the path with your clothes in your arms, some girls can’t help but stare at you. In envy or pity, they watch your uneven steps. They’re all still wearing their costumes, the evening breeze isn’t kind to their exposed skin. You stand out like a sore thumb, clad in Steve’s t-shirt and his sweatpants. Your poor folds gaining a bit of much-needed relief.

Some of the other pledges are talking—you know it’s about you despite how quiet they try to be.

They know, everyone in the house knew what happened in Steve’s bedroom. And some of the other girls were either jealous or sorrowful. You were unsure about your own feelings too, since you’re still teetering on the edge of that omega headspace because Steve couldn’t stop touching your gland.

In particular, the Arcadia alphas were as shameless as ever. They clapped and cheered when you wobbled down the stairs with Steve on your tail.

“Legacy deserves a gold star for that performance.”

“I’m going to knock your teeth in if you don’t shut up, Bryce.” Steve spits as he pulls you to the kitchen, grabbing a cold water bottle from the fridge.

Bucky whistles lowly, “And thus, the innate need to be an asshole after getting with an omega. Don’t you all wish there were more omega pledges, fellas?”

Steve ignores him in favour of gathering snacks from the cabinets and shelves. And, for the rest of the day, you sit on his lap in his clothes, watching the other pledges sweat and scrub at the whole house.

He relaxes on the couch, one of his hands never leaving your body as he speaks to his brothers, petting and tending to you like a doll, “Perhaps little legacy is Kappa Phi material, huh, baby?”

You don’t look back once, forcing yourself to stare ahead as Wanda asks how you’re feeling, among other things. You’ll tell her when you’re at your dorm and far away from Arcadia Phi.

Steve watches from the front door of the frat house, his arms crossed as the breeze brushes his bare skin, the band of his sweatpants hanging dangerously low. Behind him, his frat brothers are discussing names of the pledges, yours pops up more than a few times and is followed by a lewd comment.

“Our sister sorority, too. You’re freakier than I thought, punk.” Bucky steps beside him, a little apron in his hands.

“I wonder if I should tell our parents about his risqué behaviour.” Another voice says as an arm swings around Steve’s shoulder, “What do you think, little brother? Will mom and dad return you?”

Steve shrugs off Ransom, glaring at him. “I’m older than you, dipshit, and that’s not how adoption works.”

“Blah, blah, blah. All I’m hearing is the sound of an overdue glorified housepet.” He teases while the blond just scoffs.

They’ve been this way since they met, their relationship was strong from the beginning but that didn’t lessen any of the bickering or fights that every other sibling has. The only difference was their resilience yet they had odd similarities in terms of behaviour and attitude. Both being headstrong and fearless alphas. It was a wonder how they had lasted this long while constantly sharing a circle of friends.

“Although, I must acknowledge your exquisite taste because that sweet girl,” Ransom points down the street, “is on every alpha and beta—probably some wild omegas too—radar.”

“Surprised she hasn’t been claimed yet.” Curtis speaks up, “actually, I’m shocked a lot of omegas here haven’t been mated.”

“Some of us have standards and most of those omegas have been strung through every bed on campus.” Ransom replies, grinning at his brother, “I admire our parallel preferences, Stevie, think I can take a go at legacy?”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, it seems that testosterone is still sky-high. I’ll ask you when you’ve had time to wind down, try out the hot tub, huh?” The brunet leaves with a wink and a slap on Steve’s shoulder, waltzing into the house and joining the discussion with the rest of the brothers.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mr. fuck-em-and-leave-em, but she doesn’t even like us,” Bucky laughs, “Much less you.”

“Not yet.” He licks his lips as your group disappears around a corner. The empty air still carries a thread of your scent, or maybe that’s just your soaked panties crumbled in his pocket.

He was already one of the gods of Howard College and he's going to be yours too.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: well here it is ! the first part of captain's legacy and the first dark fic I've ever posted. mean!Steve just does something to me, and I have a feeling he'll be like that for a while. this is a dark fic, so we'll see how much fluff is in the future. the ending was supposed to be longer but I think it fits better in the next part and like my other series, this has no update schedule.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[teamxdark]

12. Pumpkins

"I fail to understand why this vegetable needs a face."

"YOU FAIL IN GENERAL."

"Omega," Rouge chided before Shadow could try to kick the two ton robot in the head, "don't be a jerk. And Shadow, the point is that pumpkins are giant, bright orange fruits, not vegetables, that we can put faces on for fun. So we do it for fun."

Shadow glared at his pumpkin like it was the most obnoxious thing in the world. "I hate fun," he deadpanned.

"I know," Rouge said as she handed him a black marker. "Now draw the most miserable face on this pumpkin. I want to see the most sour, bitter pumpkin I've ever seen in my life."

Shadow rolled his eyes, taking the marker. He glared at the pumpkin like it was the cause of all his problems, red eyes roving over the tough orange surface.

"FELLOW CAVEMATES."

Rouge looked up; Shadow kept glowering at his pumpkin. Omega seemed to not mind his half-attentive audience, raising his pumpkin into the air. "BEHOLD: I CAN NOW EMOTE WITH THOSE FACIAL EXPRESSIONS THAT YOU ORGANICS ARE SO INCLINED TOWARD."

The pumpkin showed a grinning expression with narrowed eyes. Omega turned it until a new face was revealed, a laughing face. He turned it again to show a glare. He kept turning the pumpkin, showing a multitude of faces that, by all means, shouldn't have fit on a single pumpkin, but Rouge decided she was more impressed than confused by this breaking of possibility.

"That's so cool, Omega! That's going to be helpful when I can't tell if you're joking or not."

Omega turned his pumpkin around until it showed a prideful expression. "I WILL MAKE GOOD USE OF THIS UNTIL IT ROTS AND I THROW IT AT ANY WHO STAND IN MY WAY."

"Hmph."

Both robot and bat glanced over at the hedgehog as he snarled at his pumpkin. A very crudely drawn frowny face was smudged over his pumpkin; a far cry from Rouge's carefully drawn scary face or any of Omega's pinpoint accurate faces. Shadow bristled at their stares, silently daring them to say anything.

Rouge and Omega were not the sort to ignore dares.

"Well sweetie, I guess art just isn't your forte."

"REITERATION: YOU FAIL IN GENERAL."

Shadow threw his marker at them.

[christinesficrecs]

Hi ! I was wondering if you know any fics that has Stilinski twins, with least to no smut, and hopefully Derek ending up with only Stiles ?

If there's not any, I would really like to read some sterek stories with Stilinski twins and no smut.

Anyway, thank you !! Your recs are always the ones I forward to my friends who are new to the fandom x

Aww. That’s so sweet! 🥰  I love the more boring stilinski twin fics. 🤷🏻‍♀️ I did include some angst if that is your thing (they are tagged) and also I realize cool story, bro is explicit but it’s a total must read if you haven’t already. AND I had to add the hale twin fic because it’s so fun!! 💜

cool story, bro by drunktuesdays | 13K | Explicit

Stiles is very aware that his twin is way more attractive and confident than he is, EVEN THOUGH THEY’RE IDENTICAL, and he always ends up with the hotter significant others and more friends and Stiles guesses that’s why he’s attracted to the pack at first, because it’s something that’s just his, not his twin’s too.

and i thought it only a dream by bleepobleep | 1.5K

Derek only started getting the dreams a few years ago, and he knows what it means, his soulmate is younger than him. Laura teases him incessantly about it, but Derek doesn’t pay her any mind. The dreams are fuzzy at best, he only has a fleeting glimpse of plaid shirts and laughter and a pink mouth.

As Laura and he start on their roadtrip back to California from New York, the dreams start to get clearer. Every state they cross, Derek can see the outline of his soulmate get more defined, knows that he has brown eyes, a gorgeous smile and fluffy hair that looks soft to touch.

I May Be A Twin But I’m One Of A Kind by Nerdy_fangirl_57 | 2.8K

Stiles tells Stuart everything. Even about his massive crush on Derek Hale. Well, he didn’t tell him it was Derek per se but he still told Stuart he was practically in love with the guy.

Then Stuart tells him that Derek asked him out. Only, Stuart is straight, so, Stiles has to pretend to be Stuart and go on a date with the guy he’s been majorly crushing on since freshman year.

Fuck his life.

Double Take by Trenchcoat Hunter (Reedt) | 4K

Derek’s eyes blew open. “I thought your name was Stuart!”

seeing double by redhoodedwolf | 5.7K 

When he was six years old, Miles Stilinski asked his mother why she chose to give his twin brother a weird name.

Season of the Witch by Stupid Genius | 9K

Witches and magic shouldn't be real, and yet, Derek gets the feeling something Not Normal™ is happening in this town.

I Hunt For You With Bloody Feet by CharWright5 | 200K | Explicit | Angst

“Mates don't always mean happy ever after.”

When twenty-year-old born omega werewolf Stiles Stilinski received that cryptic email from his twin brother—who'd been missing for two years exactly—in a language the two of them had made up, his drive to find Stuart is doubled. The search leads him to Oak Creek, the most secured and heavily fortified city in all of California, where he finds that not only is his brother dead, but also the literal alpha of his Dreams in Derek Hale—who just happens to be his twin's Mate and the main suspect in Stiles' eyes. Despite an agreement to fight mutual feelings, the two are still drawn to each other as they try to solve the case themselves, uncovering a plot that goes deeper than the murder of just one wolf.

Smoke & Mirrors by doodle | 68.6K | Explicit | Angst

Stiles has spent his entire life in the shadow of JJ, his popular, captain of the lacrosse team, jackass twin brother. Now he only has to make it through the summer until JJ goes to college.

Easier said than done when JJ starts hooking up with Stiles' crush, Derek Hale, and there's a dead body in the preserve.

Date me or my brother by Hepzheba | 2.5K | Hale Twins

For the prompt: Derek is straight and his usual grumpy self, Derek also has a twin who is Gay and a complete Player. Somehow, Derek finds himself filling in for his Twin because the Player has double booked himself on the dating seen. Enter Stiles... Maybe Derek's not so straight.

[zippityzap]

Sonic Tarot Card Project: explanations for character picks

Recently I completed a summer-long project where I created Sonic themed versions of the tarot major acana. I put a lot of research and thought into what characters to assign to which cards, and I wanted to explain my rationale behind each one! (Everything’s under the read more cut because this is a very long post!)

To start off, let me explain why I did this project in the first place. This summer I watched Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure for the first time, and in Part 3, Stardust Crusaders, the majority of the stand abilities are named after the tarot major arcana. Thanks to cultural osmosis I vaguely knew the meanings of a few of the cards and I realised that one of the characters suited his assigned card pretty well. I was curious if this matched anyone else and so once I finished watching that part, I did research on tarot and found that yeah, a lot of them do match! That got me interested in tarot and since I like combining things I’m interested in, I decided to make Sonic versions of the cards.

I do want to note that while Jojo did inspire this project in a lot of ways, I tried not to let my character picks be influenced by Stardust Crusader characters, although there did end up being some picks that did coincidentally happen to match nicely anyway. Also, I’m not gonna lie, ever since picking these card choices I’ve been highly tempted to draw Sonic as Polnareff.

Anyway, on to my explanations for character choices!

0: The Fool (Charmy Bee)

The Fool represents innocence, spontaneity and recklessness. I believe Charmy’s happy and carefree nature, along with the simple fact that he’s essentially just a little kid who likes to have fun makes him a great fit for this card

1: The Magician (Infinite)

The Magician represents creation and strength, but also manipulation and narcissism, a good match for Infinite and the powers of the phantom ruby. (I was also very pleased to notice that the traditional art for the card has an infinity symbol- everything lined up very well!)

The Rider Waite version of the card also depicts a sword, a wand, a cup and a pentacle; the suits of the minor arcana. I have attempted to depict these with various objects from the Sonic series, namely Infinite’s sword from the IDW Forces prequel comic, the sceptre of darkness from '06, a chaos emerald, and a ring respectively.

2: The High Priestess (Princess Elise)

The High Priestess represents secrets, repression, and the unknown, which I believe fits with Elise’s initial desire to control her emotions and her sadness. (Admittedly this is one of the looser character/card connections for this project, but my two other picks for this card I felt were better suited to different cards)

3: The Empress (Vanilla the Rabbit)

The Empress represents nurturing, fertility and childbirth, all traits that I believe make this card a good pick for a kind, caring mother like Vanilla

4: The Emperor (Dr Eggman)

A card fitting for the leader of the Eggman Empire! The Emperor represents authority, power, and tyranny, all traits Dr Robotnik desires, if not possesses in many continuities.

5: The Hierophant (Espio the Chameleon)

The Hierophant represents wisdom and tradition, and in both upright and reversed forms it has large connections to the concept of social conformity. Perhaps I’m drawing more from the various comic versions of Espio, but he comes across to me as someone who is hyper-aware about how he presents himself.

Fun fact: a hierophant is essentially another word for a religious leader, although I’ve never seen it used outside the context of tarot. I assume the religious connection is the reason why in the OST of the Jojo part 3 anime, Kakyoin’s theme is called Noble Pope.

6: The Lovers (Amy Rose)

The Lovers represents love, communication, and passion; and Amy is certainly a character who wears her heart on her sleeve! She’s a good example of a character who I feel fits a number of different cards, however there are no other characters who suited The Lovers quite as much as her.

7: The Chariot (Sonic the Hedgehog)

The Chariot represents journeys, wanderlust as well as the ambition and willpower to achieve your goals, which I believe is the perfect match for Sonic’s adventurous and heroic spirit. This was one of the first cards I decided on and it’s probably the one I’d defend my interpretation of the most.

If you’re wondering why there’s dark and hero chao in the artwork too, it’s because the original card art depicts the titular chariot being pulled by black and white sphinxes, and this is my way of calling back to that.

8: Strength (Maria Robotnik)

This card pick might seem unusual at first if you take the word ‘strength’ at face value, however considering the original card art depicts a maiden peacefully taming a lion, perhaps the Strength card represents inner strength, courage and determination rather than physical strength. These are traits that I believe Maria possesses.

9: The Hermit (Knuckles the Echidna)

The Hermit signifies awareness and independence but when reversed can mean isolation and resignation, traits that parallel well with Knuckles and his duty to be the protector of the Master Emerald

10: The Wheel of Fortune (Big the Cat)

The Wheel of Fortune represents fate, karma and luck! This is admittedly a bit of a cheeky dig at myself since I’m awful at the Big fishing levels in SA1 and mostly got through them through luck. But that’s not to say the card doesn’t apply to Big himself! His frequent cameos do have a bit of a fate/destiny vibe to them and in IDW Big is lucky enough to manage to avoid the metal virus for quite a long time.

11: Justice (Vector the Crocodile)

The meaning of the Justice cards is… pretty much what it says on the tin: fairness and clarity. Of course the Team Chaotix detective agency represents this as a whole, but that trait especially shines through with Vector himself. He may be a little money oriented, but doing what is morally right always takes priority.

12: The Hanged Man (Shadow the Hedgehog)

The thing about Shadow is that he’s a fairly complex character which means there are a number of cards in the Major Arcana that match him well, but I knew early on when tackling this project that I wanted to assign Shadow to The Hanged Man. This card represents change, release and sacrifice, which all align well with the character arc that Shadow goes through during the course of SA2 and beyond.

13: Death (Tikal the Echidna and Chaos)

Despite the morbid name of the card, (and the admittedly macabre scene I’ve depicted) the Death card is not an inherently negative card to draw. Yes, it can mean endings and grief, but it can also mean letting go and new beginnings. The story that Tikal and Chaos go through in SA1, their anguish and how they later find peace, is something that I think pairs well with this particular card.

Fun fact: this is the only card in this project that has two significant characters on it rather than just one. I felt I needed both of them to be on the card in order to fully represent its meaning

14: Temperance (Blaze the Cat)

The Temperance card signifies balance, harmony and patience, which matches Blaze’s very poised and graceful demeanour. Admittedly I had a little bit of trouble deciding on a card for Blaze since the High Priestess and the Hierophant are also good matches for her.

15: The Devil (Rouge the Bat)

The Devil card represents temptation, seduction, and materialism and well… look, Rouge is one of my favourite Sonic characters, I’d be one of the first people to tell you that there’s a lot more to her than what initially appears, she is so much more complex than just sex appeal and a gemstone obsession. However, I felt there was no other character that matched the traits of this specific card better than Rouge, and so my choice was decided by that.

16: The Tower (E-123 Omega)

The Tower card represents a number of things; disruption, disasters, sudden changes etc, however the trait that made me believe that Omega would be the best selection for the card was violence.

17: The Star (Miles ‘Tails’ Prower)

Tails’ character arcs normally centre around him gaining independence and self-confidence and learning to believe in himself. He is also largely characterised by his unyielding faith and trust in Sonic. These traits are the reason why I believe The Star card represents him well, as it symbolises hope and faith.

18: The Moon (Shade the Echidna)

The Moon card symbolises mysteries and the unknown, and when Shade is first introduced in Chronicles, she and the rest of the Nocturnus Clan are certainly presented as mysterious. The Moon can also represent misconception, which fits well with how Shade was initially unaware of the true nature of Ix’s plans.

19: The Sun (Cream the Rabbit)

The Sun, when drawn in an upright position, has a lot of positive meanings! Freedom, fun, happiness, good luck etc. Cream’s cheerful and optimistic disposition makes her a good match for this card

20: Judgement (E-102 Gamma)

The Judgement card symbolises liberation, awakening, redemption and second chances, all of which I believe represent Gamma and his character arc in SA1 well

21: The World (Metal Sonic)

In the upright position, The World card symbolises triumph, completion, strength and happiness while in reversed position can mean failure, anxiety, lack of self-confidence etc. I had both positioning of the card in mind when connecting it to Metal Sonic; he is devoted to the tasks given to him and is self-assured in his belief that he is the true/superior ‘sonic’ yet he repeatedly finds himself at the hands of failure. But he doesn’t let previous failures hold him back, thus starting the cycle anew. (Another connection to the World card as it also symbolises cycles)

[drarryruinedme7]

Last year I made a post with all my fave Drarry fics from my first year of fandom. Have my second year wrap up! Listed by Rating and then length. 

RATING: TEEN AND UP AUDIENCES

Beautiful by @xx-thedarklord-xx​​ (2017; 8.9k)

Summary: With the second task looming closer, Harry escapes to the Black Lake to open the egg, in the hopes of avoiding Myrtle. The Mersong isn't just helpful in figuring out that Mermaids are real, it attracts his very own handsome Merman.

*I didn’t know I love merpeople AUs until I read this one. It was cute and sweet and I’m really glad I read it. 

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi​​ (2017; 93.3k)

Summary: 'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

*What can I say. This is a masterpiece, it absolutely entered my heart to never leave it again. Best AU ever!!!

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered​​ (2018; 153.8k)

Summary: Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

* This has been the turning point of my Drarry passion this year. First, I discovered Lettered (good Lord why hadn’t I before?!) and then, well. This fic brought out so many feelings in me and I’ve already re-read it something like 5 or 6 times in the span of a few months. Amazing.

RATING: MATURE

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (2018; 20.7k)

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

* The angst!! It’s usually not my cuppa, but this was bittersweet and just so well written, I couldn’t stop reading. Find the rec for this one at this post.

RATING: EXPLICIT

Give Me Sweet Oblivion by @tryslora​​ (2012; 4k)

Summary: Italy seems like a long way to go to keep a fetish secret. But the club is exclusive, and the far away location, and Muggle nature, promises anonymity from Wizarding Britain. The only problem is that sometimes, great minds think alike.

*Super hot, I love finding old gems like this one. Plus, Italy. Go, folks!

Shiny Things, Slightly Damaged by @lqtraintracks​​ (2020; 5.3k)

Summary: Harry may not ever have had to see it if McGonagall hadn’t decided it was a good idea to hold a ceremony on the grounds outside before the Sorting in the Hall. And by ‘it’ he’s referring to Draco Malfoy on a motorbike.

*jsklajdksajfa This one! THIS ONE! Slayed me. I read it feverishly and then like, fainted at Draco on a motorbike.... this fic surprised me and I 100% loved it.

A Ghost of Blissful Feelings by @alpha-exodus​​ (2020; 6k)

Summary: Harry hadn't expected to spend his eighth year fucking Draco Malfoy, but it's the only thing that helps him let go.

*Dunno guys, I’m amazed by how much this one hit me. You should read the tags before diving in, but it was darkish in the right way, Harry and Draco suffers and find peace in a ‘’special’’ way, but I stand by it. Hot and intense.

Tell Me (What you Need) by @keyflight790​​ (2019; 6k)

Summary: Even though Harry was paying for his Dom, there were limits; breaking points in which someone would refuse, no matter how many Galleons were pushed in their direction.

*Okay, I may be biased because this is a gift for me, but Chris never lets down with her amazing writing and this has everything I need and more: Dom!Rentboy!Draco and a perfectly sweet Harry with a Daddy!kink. I mean.

Dangerous by Faith Wood (2014; 6.3k)

Summary: Being trapped in a dungeon with Malfoy — who's a werewolf, a former Death Eater, and a giant git — is definitely dangerous. Harry has no reason to be excited. None at all.

*Y’all know Faith Wood is like my n.1 fave Drarry author. I have no idea why I had never read this one though!!! It’s actually phenomenal, scorching hot and just dsjkafjaks love this werewolf!Draco. OMG.

Scent and Sensibility by aidaninkling (2018; 7.5k)

Summary: [...] Draco's always known he'd be married off as a trophy omega, but suddenly his mother's trying to make him king by promising him to some stupidly good-looking alpha and she just won't stop smiling at him. Does fate's cruelty know no end?!

*This blew my mind. A/B/O AU so hot I melted while reading it and I loved it so much that I re-read it three times IN A ROW. No kidding. Read it. 

The Eighth Tale by @letteredlettered​​ (2012; 12k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

*Back to Lettered. I love Time Travel fics, and this just delivered perfectly. The ending was also enigmatic enough to keep me wandering, which I always appreciate in these kind of stories. 

Sex, Lies and Veritaserum by @letteredlettered​​ (2011; 17.9k)

Summary: This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.

*LOL alright, I’ve developed a new obsession this year (clearly). This was ...gosh! Hot but it also gives away a certain level of intimacy and trust between Draco and Harry to be so open about their kinks... it was perfect.

On One’s Knees by pir8fancier (2008; 33.8k)

Summary: The war is over and to the victors go the spoils.

* The fic which made me fall in love with DownAndOut!Draco. 

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette​ (2019; 49.2k)

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

*Okay y’all. Nerd is a great person and author. She is phenomenal. And this fic shows it so well. The pirate!AU the Drarry fandom both needed and deserved. Sublime.

Unhook the Stars by jad (2016; 70.5k)

Summary: [...] Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words. Guest appearances by Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Teddy Lupin, Gregory Goyle, the Weird Sisters, ex-wives, several Weasleys, a Boggart, and a Honey Badger.

*Again, Dom!Draco and such a beautiful sub!Harry. They stole my heart. In this fic they grow up together through the aftermath of the war and they just... they have this intense Dom/sub relationship, I can’t... explain how much I loved this. Scorpius also makes his appearance and it’s so real and cute!

Such Great Heights by aideomai (2015; 93.3k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

*This is one of the last ones I’ve read. Find my rec for it here. Such a cool fic, with a shunned Draco who gets to be so happy in the end, it made me happy too.

Burn The Witch by @lettersbyelise​​ (2019; 95.8)

Summary: When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s. A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

*I do not have the words to express what this fic means to me. First of all, it’s how I met Elise who’s an amazing person and who I’m glad to call friend. She’s the sweetest. And also incredibly talented. This fic will take your breath away from the first word to the last one. Smol!Scorpius is perfectly characterised and my absolute favourite bit of the fic. 

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid​​ (2019; 99.7k)

Summary: What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

*Another incredible person who I got to know better thanks to her breathtaking storytelling and her sweetness for sharing it with me. Quick made something amazing with this fic and I urge you to read it. It was my first creature fic ever, first time I read about werewolves and I totally fell in love with it. Sheer perfection. 

Freedom to be by @quicksilvermaid​​  (2019; 169.5k)

Summary: Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect. Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

*Well, could I just miss out on another one of Quick’s great works? With, again, Dom!Draco!??? No, I couldn’t! This is such a great exploration of BDSM and what it means and Harry’s path into it. 

19 Years and 5 Minutes Later by TheMightyFlynn (2015; 202.8k)

Summary: Five minutes after his happily-ever-after, Harry finds himself locked in the public loos with an angry Draco Malfoy and a need that he has denied for 19 years.

*Find my rec for this fic here. It’s really long and has Ginny bashing, but it’s totally worth it!! 

[mytardisisparked]

Heyyyyy what's the chace you'd be willing to write a DinxOmera fic where Omega adjusts to technically being a ruler of Mandalore after marrying Din? You can do whatever you want I just think I would be cute 👉👈

ANON this is a cute idea!!!! I love it!

This turned out a heck of a lot longer than I planned but I wanted to connect some dots. 

----------

And Everything Was New

----------

The forest path drew her gaze far more than it should have. It was like a magnet; she couldn’t walk past the damned thing without looking down it. Omera knew what her subconscious was looking for: that little flash of silver that had been the last she had seen of the Mandalorian.

It was silly, really, because she knew that he wasn’t coming back. He needed to keep his son safe and, she knew, he needed to leave to keep the village safe too. She rationalized his choice in her head every time her eyes wandered towards the road and her heart lept when something shiny caught her eye. And yet...

Her eyes wandered back towards the road as she stooped by the pool, heart heavy. With a sigh, she dragged her unwilling gaze back towards her work.

She immediately looked back up, however, as she realized someone was coming down the road.

After months of trying to train herself to think that Mando would never return, she struggled to believe her eyes as the beskar-clad man stepped out of the shadows, helmet-ed head scanning the clearing. Despite the fact that his face was covered, Omera felt the moment their eyes locked. 

She stood as he walked over to her, occasionally nodding at others who greeted him. Within a few moments, they were standing toe to toe, exactly as they had been when they last spoke.

“Omera.” His voice was rough, but his tone was gentle, even coming through the modulator of his helmet. 

“Mando.” She smiled. “You came back.”

“I did.” Tentatively, he reached out a hand to take hers. “Do you mind if we speak alone?”

She nodded and lead him to her tent, keeping his hand in hers the whole way.

Once they were safely inside, she turned back to him. he adjusted his grip on her hand and, with a pang of amusement and confusion, Omera realized that the Mandalorian seemed.... nervous.

“You-” he cleared his throat, “you offered to let me stay, back when I was here with my son.” His head tilted up and, once again, Omera could feel him looking into her eyes. 

“I did.” She smiled. “The offer still stands.”

His grip on her hand tightened. “Omera, I- my son is gone. He’s training to be a Jedi.”

She realized the question that was hiding behind that sentence. “My offer still stands.” She lifted a hand to his helmet, not to take it off, just to hold him. “You have a place here, with me, if you want it.”

Mando lifted his hand to hers, and she started to pull away in embarrassment, feeling as if she had crossed a line again. To her surprise, however, he placed his hand over hers and pulled his helmet up.

She found herself looking at the kindest face she had ever seen.

She had often found herself picturing what Mando looked like under his helmet, though it felt wrong to do so. She had never quite landed on a specific mental image, but the vague inklings she had had didn’t do justice to reality; his eyes were a warm, deep brown that matched his dark hair and the scruff around his mouth and chin. As hard as his armor was, the man beneath was softer and more welcoming than anyone else she had ever met.

“My name is Din. Din Djarin.” His eyes flashed nervously, unsure of what to do without the cover of his helmet. 

She moved slowly, leaving the helmet in his hand to reach up and gently cup his cheek. He tensed for a moment at the contact, before leaning into her hand. 

“Welcome home, Din.”

------

It took little time at all for Din to adjust to life in the village. He still wore his helmet outside of their home, but he integrated into the daily work routine with no problem at all. Winta, of course, took to him like a bantha to water in the desert, shirking her chores to pester him with questions and tell him outlandish stories. Omera tried to warn Winta not to overwhelm him, but Din just patiently asked Winta to tell him another story, sending Omera small smile to tell her it was alright.

A year after he moved to the village, Din and Omera were married. 

They had tried to have a quiet ceremony, but the entire village decided to throw a massive party for their favorite couple, complete with dancing and food, and several winks and nudges from the village matriarchs regarding the hopes of future “additions to the village.” The only moment of the whole ordeal that wasn’t filled with cheers was the moment Din removed his helmet to kiss his new wife. 

Of course, as soon as their lips touched and the onlookers had recovered from the shock of seeing the face of their hero, they cheered louder than ever, and there wasn’t a moment of silence till dawn the next morning.

As the newlyweds watched the sunrise, hand in hand, Omera felt Din sigh. She looked up to see his brow drawn.

“Din?”

He looked down at her, face relaxing. “Hey.” He reached a hand up to touch her cheek.

She raised a brow. “What’s on your mind?”

His hand fell away and he looked back out at the sun. “I just... I feel like this, this peace, is about to end.”

Omera’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” She rested a hand on his chest and he laid his over it.

“I think-” he sighed again, “I think something’s coming.”

“Well,” Omera reached up and turned his pensive face towards hers, “I suppose we ought to enjoy the time we have, then.”

He smiled and leaned down, capturing her lips in his own. “I suppose we should.”

------

It was another few months before their peace was finally disturbed.

“Din!” One of the fishermen called into their tent one afternoon as they were repairing their krill baskets. “Someone’s here to see you! Says you have something of hers.”

Din looked at Omera from across their lunch table. “Bo Katan.”

His wife’s eyes flashed to his trunk at the end of their bed. “She wants the sword?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “She wants me to fight her for it.” Without another word, He stood, wiped his mouth on a napkin, and stepped out to reluctantly meet his fate.

“Din Djarin.” 

Din nodded at the three Mandalorians in front of him. “Bo.”

The redhead looked a bit older than the last time they had met, white streaking through the hair at her temples. Her companions looked much the same, Koska practically chomping at the bit to fight as he would expect. 

“I’ve come for the darksaber,” Bo Katan said, tilting her head. “And I will only take it in battle.”

“I don’t want to fight you. You can just take it.”

Bo’s eyes narrowed, wandering around the clearing. “You’ve settled here?”

“Yes,” he paused awkwardly before adding, “it’s a quiet life.”

The woman’s eyes slid back to his. “You are an insufferably good person.”

Din shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I could stage a fight, if you like.”

Bo Katan sighed. “No, I would need to win with honor. Even if I attacked you now, I would know that you were losing on purpose.” She gritted her teeth. “I can’t take the saber from you.”

“Then why are you here?” A subtle note of irritation hung between them. 

“Because if I can’t beat you, I suppose I’ll just have to back you.”

His mouth fell open slightly. “I’m sorry?”

She raised her brows. “Well, you won the darksaber from Moff Gideon, so you’re the rightful ruler of Mandalore. I will support your claim.”

Omera moved to Din’s side, taking his hand in hers to give it a squeeze. “I don’t want to make a claim,” he said, squeezing her hand back.

Bo Katan lowered her head a bit. “We’ve taken back Mandalore but-” she stopped, exchanging a look with Koska, “our people need a leader, Din. They won’t take me back since I have failed them twice.” She chuckled bitterly. “I suspect that, even if I were to win the darksaber in combat, they wouldn’t accept me.” She looked back into his eyes. “Maybe it’s time to let someone else take the throne anyway; a fresh perspective may be exactly what Mandalore needs and, I won’t lie, you are a fair leader.”

Din was stunned. “I know nothing about ruling.”

“I think you know more than you realize. You have a way of bringing people together and making allies. You lead missions with confidence. The rest is just politics and business, which I can help you sort out.” 

“I-” Din took a step back towards their tent. “I need to think.”

Bo Katan nodded and turned back to her own companions as Din pulled Omera inside.

“Omera-”

She quieted him with a gentle kiss. “I had a feeling this was coming.”

His eyes flashed up to hers. “What do you mean?”

She traced a finger down the curve of his cheek. “The scenario with the saber has been on my mind for a long time. This was an outcome that I could see happening.” She smiled. “Bo Katan is right, you are a natural leader.”

His brow furrowed. “I don’t think that qualifies me to lead an entire planet.”

“Maybe not, but I think you could learn very quickly.”

“Are you actually suggesting I take this position?”

Her face grew more serious. “These are your people, Din, and they need you. I won’t tell you what to do, but just know that Winta and I will stand with you whatever you decide.”

He took her face in his hands. “I can’t uproot your life. I can’t ask you to leave.”

“You are my life. And, besides,” her eyes fell to the broken basket on the table, “maybe a change of pace would be good. Complacency isn’t healthy.”

-----

Life in the palace was... different.

Although Din was completely unaware of the politics of the region and how to create trade routes, Bo Katan kept her word and helped him slowly learn the ropes. It took the people of the system some time to adjust to the idea of a no-name on the throne, but, as Bo and Omera said, his natural leadership and ability to create unlikely allies gained him acceptance. Mandalore seemed to appreciate a ruler who took physical action to solve problems and negotiated quickly between the tense clans.

Omera gained acceptance of her own as well. She took to teaching the children of the palace guards during her school sessions with Winta, which the people respected immensely; in a world where family and adoption were key, Omera fit right in.

Omera did not, however, enjoy the subtleties of palace politics.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t able to handle difficult situations with grace, it was just that the feelings of all eyes watching her during political balls and banquets made her squirm. Every fork movement, every smile, every word, was a point of judgment and she disliked it immensely. Frankly, so did Din, but he had the benefit of his helmet during the majority of public events; Omera could not hide.

Besides the discomfort of politics, however, their family still seemed to thrive. Din remained quietly strong and incredibly devoted to Omera and Winta, their bonds growing stronger as time went on. Being in a new place meant that the three of them relied heavily on each other for strength. Omera enjoyed working with the palace staff and visiting the diverse Sundari markets outside the palace doors. Winta charmed all of the visiting dignitaries and clan leaders with her quick wits and clever turns of phrase. The future of Mandalore was never certain, especially in a society of fierce warriors, but people generally liked the prospect of Winta taking the throne after her father one day. Din liked the idea too, and he was tempted to hand the throne to her now since she seemed to take anything life handed her in stride better than he did. 

He was even more tempted to abdicate after he and Omera found out they were expecting.

“You can’t leave the throne now,” Omera chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he kneeled to speak to her abdomen and tell their baby all his woes, “Winta needs to finish school first and the balance of things is too precarious.”

Din sighed good-naturedly. “I know, but that doesn’t mean a man can’t dream.”

She pulled him back up to her level, cupping his face in her hands. “Of course. A woman can dream too.”

He pulled her into his arms, resting their foreheads together. “We need to tell everyone at some point. Cara will kill me if we make it too much further into this pregnancy without telling her she’s going to be an aunt.”

Omera chuckled. “Maybe we should start with Winta, let her know she’s going to be a big sister.”

Din’s face remained soft, but lost it’s spark of humor. “She already was a big sister, in my eyes.”

“He’ll come back.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Someday, he’ll come back.”

“I just-” Din sighed, looking away. “I miss the little womprat.”

“Me too.” Omera looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe we could see if he could visit after the baby is born?”

He looked back into her eyes. “I think he’d like that.”

-----

He was right about Cara: she was FURIOUS they didn’t tell her about the baby sooner.

“I’m coming to Mandalore right now to kick your ass.” She spoke with a bit of humor in her voice, even as the holo image of Cara was clearly moving around her room to pack a bag. 

“You can’t come here now, you’re still Marshall.” Din sighed.

“I have like 7 weeks of vacation time built up. I’m coming.”

Before Din could protest again, Omera leaned in. “We would love to have you, Cara. Maybe you can help Winta with her combat classes since I’m becoming less able to assist.” She gestured down at the small but still visible bump at her waist. 

Cara grinned. “How is Winta? What does she think of all of this?”

“She’s very excited for the baby, but-” Din and Omera shared a look. “I think she’s starting to become overwhelmed by change.”

It was understandable, really; the clans had gotten more tense after Din had passed a law preventing infighting on Sundari. The unfortunate result had been multiple clan leaders attempting to convince Winta to talk to her father about repealing the law. That, combined with the sudden knowledge that their family was growing and Winta’s transition into the next level at Sundari Academy, had made the girl quieter than usual.

“That’s understandable.” Cara smiled simpathetically. “Maybe she just needs a friend.”

As it would turn out, a friend was exactly what Winta needed. A Mandalorian boy by the name of Rashel filled that position quite well. 

Rashel Kryze was the son of some old member of Bo Katan’s clan that had left Mandalore following the seige at the end of the Clone Wars and had returned to send his son to the royal academy. Din and Omera had never met the man, but Rashel was a lovely, spirited boy and they enjoyed having him around. His unwavering positivity and curiosity seemed to lift Winta up and restore her former attitude. Her parents suspected that having someone her own age to talk to about her troubles was also a huge relief. 

Once Cara arrived, Winta and Rashel hung around her every available hour outside of sleeping and schoolwork, leaving Din and Omera the chance to spend time together as they prepared for the arrival of the baby.

The respite for the couple, however, was temporary.

“Well, the people know now.” Omera’s mouth drew into a thin line as the holopaper flickered above the table, the title of the front-page article reading: “NEW RULERS OF MANDALORE PRODUCE SECONDARY HEIR - DJARIN LINE EVEN MORE SECURE”

Din frowned scrolling quickly thrugh the article, which made his stomach churn as his quiet family was portrayed as a dynasty. “How did they find out? Do we have a leak in our staff?”

His wife smiled sadly, “No, look at the picture on page three.”

Din glanced up at her before locating the image.

“Oh.” He said, studying the picture of he and Omera standing on their private balcony, Din kneeling before her and gently pressing his hands to the small bump at her abdomen. “Paparazzi.”

“I should have known better than to stand on the balcony without a robe or looser clothing.” Omera shook her head. “I was hoping we would have more time to keep this to ourselves.”

Din set the holo down and took her hands in his. “No, Omera, this isn’t your fault. people shouldn’t tresspass on our privacy like that.” He squeezed her hands and rested his forehead against hers. “I wish we had more time too, and I’m sorry this is all out in the open for scrutiny now.”

She pulled one of her hands from his and rested it on his cheek. “I know, but I suppose we would have had to tell them at some point any way. Maybe this is better.” She grinned. “We both know how you feel about speeches regarding personal matters.”

Her husband winced as he thought back to the speech he gave introducing his family at the beginning of their rule. “Yeah, I would like to avoid repeating that.”

Omera chuckled and hugged him tightly. “For your sake, dear, so would I.”

-----

Having the news of her pregnancy out to the public was harder than Omera had ever expected. 

Suddenly, the scrutiny she had dreaded only at public affairs of state was leaking deeply into her personal life; every food she ate, every store she visited, every dress she wore was critiqued by news stations all over the planet. She did her best to ignore the chatter, to block out the whispers in the marketplace and the palace staff’s quarters, but still, some phrases broke through her defense and hit where it hurt the most.

“She’s really going to eat that much seafood? In her 5th month?”

“I can’t believe her dress is so loose, isn’t she worried about getting it caught and hurting the baby?”

“I can’t believe her dress is so tight, isn’t she worried about it constricting and hurting the baby?”

“You would think she’d know better since she’s done this once before.”

“I’ve seen her walk into the pharmacy before. Didn’t leave with a single box of prenatal vitamins.”

“Do you think she knows about the benefits of yoga? I would think every mother should know that.”

“Why haven’t they gotten the baby tested for any disorders yet? How can they be sure it’s healthy?”

“Doesn’t she care about the future of Mandalore?

Omera was strong, but that last whisper, heard in her favorite flower shop, a place that had alway felt like a safe haven, broke her resolve.

She whirled around to the woman who had spoken under her breath. “You would do well to watch your volume, ma’am. My hearing is better than you think.” She picked up the bouquet she had ordered for Winta and whirled back to the wide-eyed woman. “And, for your information, I gave up everything to come to this place. I left my quiet, peaceful life behind to sort out your wars and petty infighting.” She leaned closer, voice deadly quiet. “I care.” 

She pushed past the shocked woman and the rest of the people behind her in line at the shop and stormed home, barely noticing the way people moved to give her space on the sidewalk upon seeing her terrifying visage. Omera threw the bouquet down on the table, walked straight to Din’s office, and finally let her tears fall as he crossed the room to pull her into his arms.

“Omera, what’s wrong?” He let her bury her face in his chest and ran a comforting hand over her back.

“I’m tired of listening to them criticize me, Din,” she sobbed. “Everyone is watching my every move and I feel like I’m doing this all wrong!”

Din guided her gently over to a couch and helped her sit. “What do you feel like you are doing wrong?” He spoke quietly, running a thumb under her eyes to wipe away tears. 

“Everything,” she said shakily. “Absolutely everything. I can’t figure out how to play at the palace politics, I can’t raise Winta right, I’m not properly preparing for this baby.” She rested a hand on the sizable bump at her waist as fresh tears filled her eyes. “I can usually adjust to whatever life throws at me, so why is this so hard.”

Her husband gently pulled her face up so they were looking into each other’s eyes. “Because we aren’t just living life in the village anymore and sorting through this on our own, we have a whole system of people watching us. I feel the pressure too, but I’m sure not as much as you are and I am so sorry.” Tears gathered in his eyes. “I’m sorry I took you away from your life and friends back home. You deserve so much better.”

Omera’s heart panged. She reached up to cup his cheek, mirroring his own touch. “I chose this life, my love. You did not rip me away from anything, and it is not your fault that I am feeling the way I am. You have been nothing but gentle and patient through all of this.”

They sat is silence for a moment, just enjoying the comfort of proximity.

“Maybe we should visit home for a while,” Din said softly. “We could have the baby there and then come back when we are ready.”

Omera looked up. “Would the people think we are hiding a secret? Would they hate us for not sharing our joy with them?”

He smiled gently. “Maybe a little bit, but we are the Mand’alors. We rule this planet, why should they get to tell us what we can and can’t do in our private family life?”

She smiled back. “Alright. Let’s go home, then.”

-----

Being back in the village was bliss.

The friends they had from before they moved to Sundari were overjoyed at the prospect of Din and Omera’s coming child and Winta’s friends were incredibly pleased to see her again. Although she still called Rashel nearly every night, Winta fell right back in with her old group of friends as if nothing had ever changed, leaving her partens to smile at the unshakable adapatability of their daughter.

Cara came with them, of course, to help increse the security of the village and protect the royal family from those who would wish to take Mandalore for themselves. There were, indeed, a couple assasins that attempted to get into the village, but not even remotely succeeded.

The highlight of their stay, of course, was the birth of their second daughter, Hirah.

After nearly 25 hours of labor, the girl had entered the world with a single cry that could have been one of victory. Her parents laughed in relief, even as tears flowed down their cheeks. She was small, but not concerningly so, and already had a head of thick, dark hair. 

The minute Omera saw her, she realized that the discomfort of critiscism had been worth it and she would go through the past nine months 20 times over if the result was still the little girl Din now hugged close to his chest. 

Din shifted the baby gently, his movemnts so controlled and slight, as if he were afraid.

“You won’t break her,” his wife chuckled.

He looked up at her and smiled. “This is just... very different from a 50 year-old baby who can walk.” 

They both laughed at that. “I know,” Omera leaned into him and gently placed a hand on Hirah’s head, “but I think you’ll find that she’s tougher than you’d expect.”

“I suppose she should be, considering her mother.” 

Omera looked up to find Din gazing down at her softly. She tilted her head upward, inviting him in for a soft kiss, which he provided obligingly. When they broke apart, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his daughter’s head and then leaned back into Omera with a contented sigh.

“We should probably introduce her to her sister and other adoring fans soon.” Omera shifted to get up, but Din pulled her back in close.

“Eventually, but I don’t think anyone will begrudge us for keeping her to ourselves for a bit longer.”

She laughed. “Clearly you are underestimating Winta and Cara’s sense of familial entitlement.”

He chuckled but shook his head. “They can wait.” He was quiet for a moment. “Mandalore can wait too, if you want. We can stay here as long as you like. Ruling remotely hasn’t been too much of a hassel these past few months.”

Omera placed a hand on his chest. “No, I think we should head back as soon as I’ve recovered enough to travel. Our people deserve to meet their newest member.”

Din titled his head, brow furrowing a bit. “What about all the scrutiny from the people? Are you sure you want to face all of that so soon? I can make it work to stay here a while longer while we adjust to raising a baby.”

Omera looked back into the face of their daughter and thought of their family. She thought of how Din had gotten the people to accept him in his quiet (and sometimes deadly) strength. She thought of how Winta had managed to charm the nobility with her wit despite her inclination to be a bit unruly. She thought about how she had earned some respect by helping teach the palace staff’s children.

“No,” Omera smiled, “I think it would be good for us to return and be amongst our people.” She looked back up at Din’s curious face. “I am confident in my ability to care for Hirah and Winta and any other children that may come in the way that is best for them. I am confident in your ability to be a good father and a good ruler. I am confident in my ability to rule by your side.” Din smiled softly as she eaned forward to place her forehead against his. “I’m the consort of the Mand’alor, and I have this handled.”

[jjungkooksthighs]

Claws of Carnality | jjk (2)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf,  fantasy

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: mentions of violence (hunting), mentions of sex this chapter is really tame but it’s set up so yeah

Summary: In the aftermath of your presentation, you recollect on some the dreams that had been visited by the alpha you have met to meet. What happens when he makes good on his promise and finds you?

A/N: OKAY SO I REALLY FEEL LIKE THIS SUCKS, BUT HEY, THIS GIF APPLIES TO THIS CHAPTER IF YOU SQUINT! Let me know if you guys like this and I will write more. If not, I can always just leave this where it is (which is fine, but alpha koo is so cool to write omg)

part 1  part 3  part 4  part 5  part 6  part 7 part 8 part 9

By the time that you’ve finished scrubbing away the evidence signaling your growth into maturity, the soiled sheets containing such proof had been stripped from your bed to be replaced with new, freshly laundered ones. To keep the essence of you there would firstly be unsanitary, but it was also a means of caution put in place to keep unwanted alphas from attempting to lay their claim on an unmated omega before one could be presented to all the available potential candidates. Part of you wonders if your alpha had caught your scent in all the bustle that surely was going on, for you surely had caught his even if you didn’t know what he looked like even what his name was.

 Dark hair colored like the earth’s floor surfaces through your mind as you peer down at the article of clothing your grandmother must have laid out for you while you’d been bathing, a wave of excitement falling over you as you quickly set about putting it on. You fasten it with practiced ease after many years of helping your own omegean friends into their own unique pre-ceremonial dress.

  It is a custom of your pack that, on the eve of the Offering Ceremony, newly presented omegas wear clothing that pays respect to the moon that guides the shifting, hunting and gathering of the wolves while also paying homage to the celestial system that, in the ancient legends, would selectively steer the most compatible of hearts towards one another in the tales of soulmates that would lead their pack into prosperity for generations to come.

 It was said that the truest of a pair would complete each other in body and mind, their wolves complementing each other like the yin and yang of peace that was so desired amongst your kind.

 As you pull your arms through the black lace that covers a fine silk of the same color, you can’t help but to notice the way the underlying material shimmers in the sunny light that glints off it in the small constellation of silvery spritzes to the silk that mirror the stars that, in the dark color of the body of the dress, perfectly recaptures the night sky. In the modestly cut ‘V’ style of the bodice, the trim on each side eventually intersects where the skirt begins and is colored a rich chrome color after the moon.

  It matches with the thin band that crosses horizontally over your stomach to hold the bodice closed. Below that, your skirt is fitted just enough that it doesn’t hug your skin, but it is open enough to let air trail between your legs as it stops just along the underside of your knees. You make sure to tie a thick matching silk choker over your neck to nearly cover it in its entirety in effort to complete your ensemble, for it is another custom that newly presented omegas must partake in that you have to obey.

 Such was put in place to lessen the temptation of alphas to try to scent an omega, for the show of skin in such an intimate place for wolves that were unmarked was a declaration of intent. To walk around without such a covering was dangerous, for it often would ensue fights between alphas and betas over the omega that had been unheedful of such consequences.

 You did not want to be involved in attention like that, for you had always been a quiet, shy presence throughout your years on the compound. What your heart did long for, however, was to find its equal and thus to bask in the notice of he who had visited you in your fantasy, of he who had promised to find you. You truthfully had no idea who he was, but he was no stranger to your dreams. Well, he hadn’t been since the eclipse, anyway.

 The first time you’d seen him, he’d been laying on his back while staring at the stars you enjoyed connecting the constellations of within the middle of a forest clearing, the silvery moonlight illuminating him in an ethereal light that had him glowing in radiance.

 You’d been tentative to encroach on him and, in your timidity, had tried sinking back into the shadows only to snap a twig under your feet. He’d sat up quicker than lightning, his muscles tensed and ready to pounce as brilliant golden irises darted to the source of the sound only to pierce your own as you’d sucked in a breath at how deep and beautiful his eyes were despite how profoundly they dug interestedly into your own, effectively halting you were you stood as he rose from his place on the forest floor.

 Your legs had been rooted in place under his commanding gaze and he’d cocked his head to the side like the wolf he was while he’d appraised you, your heart racing as you watched his brows knit together in confusion the picture of his ideal mate paired with the concoction of smells that coalesced into something that was uniquely your own yet had him drawn like a magnet in how deliciously your aroma swirled under his nostrils, his own pulse quickening as he instinctively lowered his head as you tilted yours back in silent submission that pulled at every fiber of your being in the presence of such a strong, handsome alpha.

 It had been instant. His eyes widened when he’d daringly nudged at exposed your scent gland, his irises growing in size at the poignantly tempting aroma of you that clung salaciously to his lungs and very being. In turn, you gasped when the strong headiness of him insistently prodded at you until you were overtaken by its delicious amalgamation of smells, your muscles relaxing at the same time his did a turn of events that you did not understand for you believed it was all just a dream.

 The second time you’d seen him, he’d found you next to a steady, crystalline stream with the moon as your light source and upon offering you his hand with some coaxing, he had led you through a field of flowers colored after every hue in the rainbow as he told you how you’d enchanted him with your beauty and scent that had so begun to saturate his every thought, his adulations rapidly bolstering your confidence in the sureness with which he declared them.

 The third time, he’d followed you to a creek and had watched you dip your feet into the cool water that was such a balm to the hot air of the night only to step further into the body of water and be embraced by it still clothed in the dress that made you shine brighter than the moon in his eyes. It was you who had eventually asked him to join you after reddened cheeks and stuttered breaths upon realizing he’d been looking at nothing but you the entire time with brightened, enlarged irises.

 Somehow, his competitive nature had stoked your playful side and before long, you were splashing each other with water and laughing heartily until your foot had caught on a sharp rock and you’d yelped in pain. Concern had been quick to shift his expression, not that you could that under the mop of hair that had veiled the upper part of his face, but you could hear the emotion in his voice as he reassured you that it would be okay before, to your surprise, he’d wrapped one arm around your back and another under your legs to carry you like some kind of bride before you setting you down on a rock to rip at the edge of his shirt in a show of strength that had your insides turning to mush as he promptly wrapped it around your foot while asking if you were alright and if you were in pain.

 An irrational need to clear the worry away from him filled you and before you’d let yourself think about it, you’d laid your hand over his to thank him, not thinking too much on the way his skin was so hot to the touch. As if your words were the medicine he needed, the emotion drained away while you both had stared at each other. You hadn’t realized you’d been leaning forward until you nearly collapsed on top of him, lost as you had been in those expressive eyes of his.

 The fourth time, you’d been incapable of resisting his call of howls only to find him thrashing in a cave growling for you. It was as if someone was hurting him from the inside in the pitch of his sounds, but you didn’t have any idea what to do. His shirt had been torn all over and in the dim light that reached into the cave, you thought you could make out the etchings of the extensive muscles that lined his chest, your mouth watering at the sight and yet you’d blamed on being in need of water in your inexperience to know what your body was doing.

 You had stayed by his side regardless to bring him water and edible plants that you’d gathered in his lack of exiting the confined space, fondness for him swelling within you in your want to take away whatever pain was wracking him. You’d not been aware of what he wanted and the fact that neither of you had exchanged names made it difficult to console him since you were simply the girl from his dreams to him (or so you thought).

 The fifth time, it had been you who had been sequestered to a grassy, woody den in the forest. Your body had quivered with need for something that you had yet to ascertain, but your companion had stayed true to you just as you had to him. Compassion shined in those golden irises as you’d wailed, your arms crossing over your stomach as you rolled back and forth irrationally in the tremors that violently shook your body. When you’d needed new foliage to lay on, he’d gotten it for you. When you’d wanted the cool creek water to be poured over your burning skin, he’d done that, too.

 And when you’d asked for some meat to eat, it had taken all but five minutes for him to secure five rabbits that you ate the majority of in your insatiable hunger that only seemed to stretch on the more that you drank him in.

 All had preceded the fantasy you’d had last night and you try to piece them together in what they could possibly mean as you grab what your thin arms can carry between pillar candles and tea-lights. You don’t stop stuffing them between your arms until you’re sure you can’t possibly carry any more, and every omega that passes by the storage closet in the omegean den where you currently are makes sure to congratulate as they pass much to the reddening of your cheeks at some overly obscene remarks of what is likely to come. It’s all so new and thrilling to you.

 You’re honestly a little surprised that they all already know that you’d woken to the taint of your essence lathered all over you, but such is the way of things in that news spreads like wildfire amidst the close comraderies of omegas.

 It should make you feel uncomfortable, but such monumental events are looked at as blessings amongst your pack and in the bustle of energy that the sudden ceremony has sparked in everyone, you can only feel the excited surges of anticipation as you and you alone begin to set about the preparations for the event at the break of dawn since you’d been the final omega in your rank and age group to present.

 Through it all, you never lose the subtle trail of him, his scent lingering just enough for you to find yourself trying to move toward its origin, but never thick enough to pinpoint him completely despite your wolf urging you to continually to go to him, to find him.

 You wonder what your alpha could be doing right now and what he might be thinking as you make your way through the green grasses that open up to frame the circular wooden stage that is overlooked by the timbered den of the elders. It is an impressive structure in how very imposing and tall it stands and the stage itself is longer, you are sure, than five meters across and back.

 There are already stone braziers set strategically next to the stage that are used for annual selections for unbonded pairs of wolves and initiations of pups, but you can’t deny your favorite use for it would be the dance performances that are put on to celebrate each event.

 Amongst the alphas in your pack, Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok and Kim Taehyung are among the three bachelors that woo all of the omegas and betas in the compound with the calculated ways they move their bodies that successfully has everyone, even you, swooning.

 However, can’t say they hold a candle to the one alpha, in particular, that some believe to be an apparition in how little he is seen despite the fact that every time you catch his shadow, he’s always stolen away your breath and ability to think straight. The way that this alpha moves, in specific, demands your attention in how expressively calculated he is in his artistic movements that combine modern and old dance into a style that is completely his own.

 You have only seen him perform twice, but by the moon above, you would never forget it. Each time, you swear his golden irises have shot through the whole crowd of screaming women and even men straight into you only to sink deliciously into you as he dances. It has set your blood alight each time, your pulse quickening in exhilaration at the prospect of that he may have noticed you.

 You had noticed him first for this and, hungrily wanting to learn more about the enigmatic figure that could disappear without a trace for months on end without being seen or heard from, you had come to find out through utterances of longing by many omegeans that he was the pack alpha’s son, which made him next in line for assuming control over the entire compound.

 You had also come to discover that, among his looks that were crafted by the gods, he came from a pedigree only of purebreds. This meant that he was one among the seven alphas- including the three bachelors already fawned over amongst the compound-in your pack that were gifted with bolstered speed, strength and abilities of which the majority of alphas today did not possess. Such made them extremely desirable to many of the omegas and betas, but for the life of you, you couldn’t see how they were any different from a regular alpha.

 As you set out the tealights along the edges of the stage, you can’t help but to ponder why the alpha that had anchored himself to your thoughts long before your dreams is coming to your mind now and it’s when you’ve placed a pillar candle from under your arm onto the mounted holder, that’s when your thoughts are halted.

 In the distance, you can discern the pervasively pungent stench of alphas and that’s when your eyes widen. You had forgotten that because of the Offering Ceremony, it was tradition for alphas to go on a hunt at the crack of dawn in effort to make a show of their prowess and ability to provide. This was done in effort to please or attract potential mates in the kills they would secure and gift to their selected omega or beta. You chastise yourself for taking too long, for an unmated omega was not supposed to be in the vicinity of an unbonded alpha due to the pheromones that could cause a premature heat. Your body is unstable right and now and that’s why-

 Amongst the flurry of odors that pervade your sensitive nose, there is one that you pick up on, one that wafts deliciously like fresh cookies under your nostrils and around you before caressing your skin with the gentle wind that carries it to you. It is gently insistent in the way it encourages you to turn, to move. You’ve smelled this scent before, you know that you have.

 Distantly, in the back of your mind, something tries to poke at your consciousness, but you pay it no mind as you try to complete your task futilely as the aroma whisks itself over you like whipped cream as it inches closer and closer, the soft crunching sound of grass underneath feet growing louder as it does.

 You try to take deep breaths and regulate the shallow rise and fall of your chest that is not aided by the hope that twists heavily in your gut and when you clumsily try to make it appear as if you’re doing something constructive, you manage to knock the white pillar candle off of its place so that it lands on the ground with a thud.

 Without thinking, you turn only to for you to hitch your breath as the solid planes of a golden and salaciously chiseled chest take up your vision. Your mouth goes dry when your irises dip downward at how obscenely low his ebony shirt dips with one side crossed over the other in a style that isn’t entirely different from the bodice you now wear save for the fact that it is a darker shade of black and is held together by a thicker band that circles a slim, hourglass shaped waist.

 The lapels of his garment fold over each other and are accentuated by the charcoal colored pelt that lines his shoulders and trail lengthily down his body to cease around calves covered by dark black trousers that hug his corded thighs lewdly and you have to shut your mouth to stifle the sound of appreciation your body had traitorously wanted to release. If you had spit, you probably would lick your lips, but you don’t. Instead, you settle for trying to swallow the sudden lump in your throat, which is also non-yielding of the result you’d wanted. 

 “You know, I heard you omegas weren’t supposed to be near us big, bad alphas so soon,” he rumbles amusedly as your heart stutters at the familiar voice, “So, what are you doing out here all alone, pretty?”

 You gulp animatedly, your irises refusing to move from the canvas of his chest because you know where you’ve heard that voice before, you realize as your skin pebbles in response to the same deep voice that drips deliciously atop it as your wolf cries for you to answer, to submit.

 “I-I… I was setting up for the c-ceremony, that’s all.” You stutter as the alpha in front of you chuckles, the sound making your blood sing in response to the melodious sound as his golden irises inspect your familiar features, surety setting in for him that you really are her, the girl from his dream.

 “Ah, so you are.” He muses as he cocks his head interestedly at you.

 He had chosen to lead the alphas to a different hunting location today because he believed a new area would be a rich hunting ground, but he’d also come this way for another reason. As a purebred alpha, his nose was far better than any average alpha. Therefore, despite the clothes that you wear of which the threads of your dress have been dipped into oils that mask your own potent pheromones he knows to be on overdrive since your presentation, they are still ineffective in putting off his strong nostrils in how easy it had been to detect and find you like he’d wanted to.

 His lips curl up when you fidget in a way exactly like she had, your hands clasping nervously together along your front and he’s struck with the irrational want to have you feel less distressed in his presence, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable around him.

 The more pressing thing though is to look upon those eyes of yours that he’s been so bewitched by, for he hasn’t yet looked up those entrancing irises that had belonged to her and has to make sure, his wolf clawing at him now to find out as his deep voice fills the space between you, your own wolf preening under the attention as he says, “Come now, pretty omega, won’t you look at me? I won’t bite.”

 With way that his velvety voice envelops you, you really can’t bring yourself to do anything but obey as your slowly trail your gaze along his Adam’s apple that is so defined it makes you want to salivate before continuing your ascent up to perfectly plump, soft lips crafted by the stars themselves. Those same lips had done so much to you in your dreams and images of it flash through your mind as you take a shaky breath that he mirrors in the anticipation that is nearly palpable in how heavy it settles over you both. When you finally settle your gaze on those golden irises that had taken up such a permanent residence in your thoughts, that’s when he utters, “Well, would you look at that...I always knew it would be you, but I never would’ve thought this would happen.”

 At the same time that you had peered into his eyes while he gazed curiously at you, your irises had changed from the silver of the moon he had always been bewildered by to the gold of the sun like his own. In the exact moment, you’d witnessed his own do the same, his eyes changing to the color of your own.

Jungkook has always taken pride in his abilities as a purebred. They’d never steered him wrong before and they hadn’t now, either. It is why he hadn’t doubted the magnetizing pull that had brought him here as encouraged by his nose that could track anything. It is also why his very being is colored with entertainment at your cute reaction that he’d had some inkling of some time ago.  

What is a pleasant surprise, however, is the fact that the moon itself has chosen you as his mate in the gift it had bestowed on the two of you. And as his eyes rove over you, he can’t help but grin. He’d always had his eye set on you, anyway. 

 You gasp in incredulity when you realize what’s just happened and to whom it has happened with as you fall back against the stage, completely floored by the howling of your wolf to go to him and accept it. 

 You’re just supposed to accept the fact that the alpha you’ve pined so badly for has been selected for you by the moon itself in the legendary soulmate’s gift of sight, which allows two fated wolves to see their eyes in the mate that completes them. You’re just supposed to casually accept that your fated mate is the alpha that everyone wants, including you. You’re just meant to easily believe that the alpha you begged to be claimed by while he had his cock rammed inside you within your fantasy is Jeon fucking Jungkook and that he’s your alpha.

 As you splutter and try to find anything to say in the shock that will soon leave your legs trembling, the alpha just smirks as he cards a hand through his hair in a display that has you licking at your lips despite everything as he flicks a brow, “What’s wrong, pretty? Cat got your tongue?”

[kazmirone]

obikin rough draft fic excerpt (abo)

Here, have some tattooed omega!Obi-Wan. Someday I will fill it out and complete it. Maybe, lol.

Oh, and in case you didn’t catch it in the post title, this is A/B/O.  There’s nothing explicit in this excerpt, though.

*

It's not that Anakin's looking, alright.

But when Obi-Wan strips off his under-tunic after their lengthy sparring session, Anakin's attention is possibly a little bit more drawn to the movement than it should be.  

And it’s why he spots the mark on Obi-Wan’s flushed skin. The mark is palm-sized, a murky whorl of sooty, ashen color blossoming across his ribs too nicely to be a bruise.

"I didn’t know you had tattoos,” Anakin says, gesturing to the blooming color there.

Obi-Wan follows his hand movement and lifts up his arm to look at the space below it. “I - don’t.”

*

"Is it contagious?" Ahsoka asks, once Obi-Wan's returned from the Halls of Healing. "Because Rex said you can catch a fungus if you don't wear shoes in the showers."

“Ahsoka,” Anakin says.

“No, young one. I don’t think it’s contagious,” Obi-Wan patiently answers.

“Is it because you’re an omega?” Ahsoka asks.

“Ahsoka!” Anakin hisses.

“I shouldn’t think so,” Obi-Wan says, bemused, then draws a small datapad from his robes. “At any rate, Healer Che asked me to monitor the condition with daily stills.”

Anakin frowns, and he’s fixed on the tablet in Obi-Wan’s hand when the terrible, horrible offer just spills right out of his terrible, horrible mouth, “I could help you. Take the stills, I mean.  It’s in a weird spot, so it might be hard to get the angle right.”

Obi-Wan stares at him, and Ahsoka does, too, and this is how it starts.

Day 1

“No changes,” Anakin says.

Obi-Wan snorts, tugging his tunic back into place and taking the datapad from Anakin’s hands. “It’s been less than a day since the onset.”

He follows Obi-Wan out of the ‘fresher and into the small living space. It’s a lot neater these days, now that Anakin’s moved out and taken his mess with him. His scent, too.  

Now, Obi-Wan’s scent permeates every inch of the place, fresh and clean and undeniably omega. Something in him – a little ugly, a little primal – is urging him to leave his mark, run his hands over every surface and claim this place as his own, again.  

He doesn’t, of course.  Obi-Wan would pitch a fit. But if Anakin maybe smooths the tips of his fingers down the front door as he leaves, well, what’s the harm in that.

Day 4

Obi-Wan frowns. “Does it look darker to you?”

Anakin leans over his shoulder and peers down at the datapad in Obi-Wan’s hands, where a procession of images is pulled up on its screen.  He shrugs. “Not really?”

Day 9

“I’m not sure how to say this--” Anakin starts, watching from the door as Obi-Wan fold ups his tunic and sets it near the sink.

“Then you should just say it,” Obi-Wan says.

“--I think it’s spreading,” Anakin finishes.

Obi-Wan stills, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Are you quite sure?”

Anakin brushes his elbow, directing him, and Obi-Wan lifts up his arm to a horizontal plane. The position, they’ve found, least distorts the shape of the mark. He regards it, the dark smudge on Obi-Wan’s pale, muscled flesh.  

Before, he could have covered it up entirely with his palm. Anakin holds his hand over the mark, not touching but close enough to feel whisper soft vellus hair when Obi-Wan pulls in a particularly deep breath.

Now, the cloud of black and gray has extended well past his fingertips, blossoming across the side of Obi-Wan’s ribcage, creeping towards the front of his body.

“Well?” Obi-Wan asks, above him.

Anakin straightens up. “It’s definitely spread.”

“And your method of measurement was what, your hand?” Obi-Wan asks, mildly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Anakin shoots back. “Did you have a ruler laying around?”

Day 13

“You look terrible,” he says, breezing into Obi-Wan’s quarters.

Obi-Wan sighs, close behind him, and Anakin can feel the heat of it brush the back of his neck.

Day 14

“Oh,” Anakin says, when the door opens.  

The scent of oncoming heat is unmistakable, and it’s overpowering, and it hits him with enough force to send him shuffling back a step.

If Obi-Wan had looked terrible yesterday, he looks even worse today. There are deep shadows under his eyes, his hair limp across his brow, and his clothes are damp with sweat.

“It’s best we didn’t today,” Obi-Wan says, finally.

“Right,” Anakin says, voice rough like it’s been dragged over gravel. “Is - can I get you anything before I go?”

Obi-Wan smiles tightly. “No, thank you, Anakin.  I will see you in a few days.”

Anakin doesn’t even get the chance to say goodbye before the door is sliding shut in his face. It sends a billowing waft of something that feels like, well, like untouched, unmated, unprotected, into the hallway, and Anakin holds his breath while he walks away.

Day 15

Obi-Wan will be livid if he finds out, Anakin thinks, as he slips the glove off his right hand and steps up to the door, sometime in the dark, early hours of the morning.

He runs both hands – organic and prosthetic – over every surface of the door’s control panel. The transparisteel display screen, the durasteel plating, the rubber-padded plastoid buttons, even the sharp edges where the box itself is bracketed to the wall.

After he’s satisfied with the way his scent has shrouded the doorway, he pulls his glove back on and leaves.

Day 21

“Master Obi-Wan is here!”

Anakin rolls his shoulders to ease the achiness there. He’s been hunched over his mechnoarm for the last hour, at least, trying to reconnect a fragile strand of loose wiring.

“Having trouble?” Obi-Wan asks.

He glances up from the needle-nose pliers lodged in his wrist. Obi-Wan looks better, well-rested, he supposes, and a lot less…sweaty. “It’s fine,” he says. “Just give me a minute, then we can go do the thing.”

Obi-Wan takes the seat across from him, brow raised. “The thing?”

“The picture thing,” Anakin tacks on.

“About that,” Obi-Wan says. “I think we ought to do the thing, as you say, here, for the time being.  My quarters – well –”

“Your quarters, what?” Anakin asks. “Smell bad?”

“Yes, Anakin, my quarters smell bad.”

“I guarantee they don’t smell as bad as you think they do,” Anakin says, just to push him, just a bit.

Day 28

Obi-Wan touches little in their quarters and never stays long enough to leave much of a trace, but it must leave something. Ahsoka’s nose crinkles every time she walks through the door.

Day 32

“Well,” Anakin says, powering down the datapad and setting it on the cluttered sink. “I took five stills this time.  To get everything.”

Obi-Wan exhales. He moves away from Anakin, then, and reaches for his tunic. The movement twists and pulls at the grayscale whorls spiraling out over his side, down his abdomen, and his entire left pectoral.

Faint, fine lines and the lightest shading spill out across his skin around the edges of the marking, but it’ll be swallowed up by darker color soon enough, if this thing keeps up, keeps spreading.

As it stands, it’s a hair’s breadth away from the cleft of his spine, and Anakin watches the muscled flex of his back as Obi-Wan slides his tunic back over his head.

*

Anakin’s known from the start that Obi-Wan sends off the holostills to Master Che every day-cycle. What she does with them – or doesn’t do with them, since it’s not like she’s figured it out yet – really isn’t Anakin’s business.

So he is well aware he’s not the only one to see the monochrome tendrils creeping across Obi-Wan’s skin. And, he realizes in a numb but sudden sort of way, it bothers him utterly that there are others who do.

The feeling makes itself known when Anakin happens across Che and Jocasta Nu and Nu’s padawan in the library later that afternoon, grouped around a computer terminal, studying his still of Obi-Wan’s body.

“Exquisite,” Nu says, and her gnarled finger raises up to trace across the screen one of the swooping lines on Obi-Wan’s right oblique. “Simply exquisite.  I have never seen anything like it.”

Che sighs. “Nor have I. That is the problem.”

“I shall begin my research straight away, Vokara,” Nu says, resolved. “You will keep me apprised of any changes to Master Kenobi’s condition?”

“Of course. Thank you, Master Nu.”

The old librarian turns to her padawan, then. “And what do you make of this, boy?”

The boy shrugs, edging closer to the screen. “No clue. It’s pretty, though.”

Hidden away in the shadows of a towering bookstack, Anakin bites hard into the spongy flesh of his cheek, prosthetic knuckles whirring from the strain of his tightening fist.

Day 35

It’s been two weeks since Obi-Wan’s heat ended, more than enough time for the scent of it to air out and fade away.  Still, Anakin leaves Obi-Wan’s quarters with the urge to claw out of his own skin.

Day 40

“Knight Skywalker.”

“Master Che,” he replies, scowling at her retreating back as the healer glides down the hall and out of sight.

“There’s been a development,” Obi-Wan says.

Anakin meets Obi-Wan’s flinty blue gaze. “I’m guessing it’s not a good one, then.”

Day 42

The markings on Obi-Wan’s legs are even more remarkable the third day he sees them.  

A couple days ago, the lines had been faint, like the lightest press of graphite on a piece of flimsi. The markings had barely shown up in the stills he’d taken, and he’d had to mess with the datapad settings before Obi-Wan had sent them off to Master Che.

Today, though.

Today, the lines are the deepest shade of black, heavy and wide. They curve in on one another, then cleave apart, and splinter off into webs of thinner, still defined lines. From the curl of Obi-Wan’s toes to the knobby bones of his ankles and kneecaps, all the way up to the mid-center of his thighs, he is covered.

It’s so unlike the chaotic, celestial explosions swallowing up the surfaces of his torso and back. There’s a pattern here in these new markings, maze-like in their design.  They’re mirror images, or pretty damn close, on Obi-Wan’s right and left legs.

“And this all appeared overnight?” Anakin asks, a little breathless.

“Essentially,” Obi-Wan says, eventually. “Are we finished?”

Obi-Wan shifts where he’s prone on the couch, and the hard muscles in his calves flutter and bulge, just a fraction of a second, really, but Anakin notices, crouched at Obi-Wan’s side and entirely too close.

Anakin’s brain stutters for a moment. “What?”

“The pictures, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says. “Are we done?”

“Oh.” Anakin looks down at the glowing datapad, lax in his grip.

[sonic-wildfire]

Emotion Sickness: Diary Entries from Shadow the Hedgehog (Part 1)

Select entries from Shadow’s diary were found and compiled by Sonic (with Shadow’s permission) as an homage to both Shadow’s development and their relationship together. The entries were made between March 2009 and October 2013. This part of the compilation contains the entries made between March 2009 and December 2010.

10:53 PM - 4 March 2009

Hmph. Another day behind me. I crossed paths with Sonic today and he offered to have lunch with me. The request was somewhat flattering, but I turned it down. I don’t really need to eat.

Why is Sonic always so nice to me? It’s a liability to be within ten feet of him at this point, considering how much trouble he gets into. Whatever. I’m better by myself anyway.

5:02 PM - 19 July 2009

Amy visited me today and said she was here on Sonic’s behalf. Don’t know why, but she wanted me to know Sonic was offering to have me over at his place.

Sonic has a permanent home? Who knew?

I thought about it for a bit, but I declined. Again, I don’t understand why Sonic continues to do nice things for me even though I’m the most miserable being on the planet. It’s not that I hate them or anything, but I just can’t get close to anybody else. What if they reject me? What if...

Forget it.

I can’t think about this stuff. I’m going to take a nap. My thoughts are the last thing I need to be with right now.

6:46 PM - 30 November 2009

Wouldn’t you know it, that stubborn blue hedgehog turned up at my door today and again asked me to spend time with him. I was about to just tell him to piss off, but something about this interaction was different. I don’t know what, why, or how, but... it actually sounded appealing this time?

Very hesitantly, I said I’d think about it but don’t expect me to take you up on the offer. He just smiled, said okay, and left. 

Maybe I should at least try to be somewhat charitable for once. I called up Rouge and told her about what had happened and she just teased me over it before hanging up. You know, typical Rouge.

But she did tell me that it was ultimately my decision to make.

Hm. I think I might go after all.

12:25 PM - 2 December 2009

Just got back from having breakfast with Sonic. He was actually surprised I showed up. Honestly? I was surprised, too.

I didn’t talk too much, but Sonic... oh boy, Sonic. It’s like he never ran out of things to talk about. He’s smiling the entire time he’s with me, too. It was almost alluring just how much his bright demeanor contrasted with my moody self.

One of the things Sonic talked about was his friends. I was fully ready to just stop him right then and there (it rubs me the wrong way when anybody mentions friendship), but then he told me I was a “good friend” to him.

I asked him if he was serious. Sonic said yes.

In retrospect, it was certainly more eventful than most days. Perhaps little meetups like this would be healthier for me if I did them every once in a while.

3:59 AM - 28 May 2010

I can’t rest. I keep thinking about Sonic.

We’ve been meeting occasionally like I said I should. The longer I’m with Sonic, the more I begin to see in him what I could’ve been.

He’s a caring, generous man with everything going for him. People like him. He has a purpose in life. He’s coolheaded, rational, and valuable to society.

So why on Earth would Sonic be spending time with me, a reprehensibly depressed alien who is so completely worthless and undeserving of care? How could he possibly like me when I don’t even like myself?

I’m tired and tears are pricking at the corners of my eyes. I need to talk to someone in the morning.

1:51 AM - 29 May 2010

I called Rouge and told her about last night. She wasn’t very vocal, but she did offer a little encouragement. She said I don’t get enough sleep and that a little bit of rest would put me at ease for a bit. But I’m still on edge. What does Sonic see in me that I don’t? Or am I just overthinking this? My thoughts are erratic right now, so I’m sorry to anyone reading if this doesn’t make sense.

Ugh.

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes already.

I’m so weak. I’m so pathetic.

Who would ever want to spend time with someone like me?

All I do is brood in the corner of the room all day and be an asshole to everybody. I don’t understand how anybody could be tolerant of me, much less a “friend.”

Yet... I’m still drawn to Sonic. For whatever reason, he’s just so inviting. He’s nice. Too nice.

11:32 AM - 8 August 2010

Over the past few months, Sonic and I have been visiting each other more often, and not much has changed.

From me, at least.

Sonic has been growing even kinder towards me than before. Sometimes, he’ll give me small gifts like a scarf. Other times, he’ll ask me about myself. If I were ready, I would’ve just spilled my true feelings about myself right then and there.

But I wasn’t ready. So I just talked about the very few things I did find enjoyment in. Gardening, space, and Chao. I begged him to never tell anybody about what I said to him, and he looked at me like I had three heads but vowed to keep it a secret anyway.

I just don’t know. Sonic’s a good guy, but... I can’t bring myself to be friendly with him. If I start growing close with people, they’ll just die or leave me and I’ll be heartbroken again just like last time. I can’t go through that again. I’m not strong enough.

I appear tough on the outside. But the truth is, I’m always on the verge of breaking down. My mental state is so volatile and virtually uncontrollable.

Chaos damn it, just get out of my head already!

3:40 PM - 23 December 2010

The holiday season. A time for joy, reminiscing on the past, looking forward to the new year, and exchanging gifts.

For everybody else, that is.

Ever since I came here, I’ve spent every Christmas alone.

All the others have a big gathering at Sonic’s house, having a good time (allegedly). I was never interested in these and I always declined every single invitation I got from Sonic. Yet, like clockwork, he still sends me one every year. Maybe hoping that I’ll change my mind one year.

After a lot of self-reflection over the past year, though, I’m not sure how much more invitations I can reject before Sonic gives up trying.

I crumble in social situations. Interacting with anybody other than Rouge, Omega, or Sonic for more than ten seconds takes an insane amount of willpower.

Something has to give. Either I go for once or they stop trying.

12:48 AM - 24 December 2010

I’ve decided I need to go. Maybe bring one of my Chao if things go wrong. I’m not necessarily doing this because I want to go. In fact, I’d be a lot happier if I didn’t go because at least I know things can’t go wrong if I’m by myself.

But I can’t stop thinking about Sonic and his friends. It drives me crazy.

9:21 PM - 24 December 2010

Party’s tomorrow. Note to self: don’t fuck this up.

11:17 PM - 26 December 2010

How quickly things can change has always amazed me. Tonight proved that.

Everybody was really surprised to see me showing up, but they said they were all grateful I showed up. Sonic, of course, was the first to welcome me, giving me a hug that admittedly felt like a breath of fresh air after so much time alone. Then again, I have a reputation so I needed to act like he was crushing me to death.

I didn’t spend much time talking with other people, though I did exchange some small talk with Rouge. The usual.

As the party grew longer, I found myself being... complimented by others?

Knuckles said he hoped I was “doing well.” Cream gave me a single flower while wishing me a merry Christmas. Tails shyly waved at me (I put on a smile and waved back). Omega said I was “one of the only creatures made of flesh” he trusted.

I’m sorry. Did these people forget who they were talking to?

Dinner was fine, though I was particularly eager about the sweets. Oh, right, I forgot to mention I have a knack for candy. The more you know.

Of course, then it was time for gifts. I swear you could fill the Grand Canyon with the sheer amount of presents under the tree. I guessed that roughly three of those were for me, ready to be mailed to me if I didn’t show up.

So you can imagine my surprise when I saw eight presents being dropped into my lap and all of them reading “To: Shadow.”

We all took turns opening our presents. I had two presents from Amy (a coffee mug and a Chao toy), one present from Espio (a kunai), one present from Tails (a bag of coffee beans), one present from Knuckles (a Kill la Kill DVD) and... three presents from Sonic?!

The first one was classic Sonic stuff. A sweater with the word “faker” sewed on the chest. He thought that one was really funny. I didn’t really care.

The second one was more genuine. A pair of rocket boosters for my shoes. My old ones are just about dead, so this was welcome.

The third one... subverted all expectation. It was a small box that contained a piece of paper. It read:

“Dear Shadow, stay after the party and meet me upstairs when the others leave. Signed, Sonic.”

The others were curious about what Sonic meant by this. Silver joked that I was being sent to the principal’s office.

Eventually, the party came to a close and people left. I went upstairs as Sonic had told me, and there he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

He motioned for me to take a seat next to him. I sat down and asked him what he wanted me for, half-expecting something stupid.

“I understand you haven’t had the easiest life...”

I instantly got up to leave. No way I was sticking around to hear this again.

But Sonic grabbed my arm and yanked me back to the bed, his face now spelling genuine concern.

“...I know you mean well. Sometimes, you do things that we think are dumb but actually turn out to be smart. Other times, you just do dumb stuff. But that’s not the point. The point is, I want you to know that I’m still here for you. I can tell you’re bothered by your thoughts. But the bottom line is that I, and we, care about you. We love you, Shadow. I love you. Please don’t think you’re not worthy of being cared about. We have our ups and downs, but we always work it out eventually, right? I know your thought process works differently than mine. That does not make you any less deserving of respect. My greatest wish is that you would love yourself as much as we love you.”

I was stunned. That bastard. Quickly losing my composure, I began blubbering about how I couldn’t stand the thought of getting close to someone just to lose them again. How I’m so terrified that I will just be manipulated and used by people pretending to be my “friend.”

Sonic told me that he would never go away and that he would never “use” me.

Fuck. Fuck.

Sonic embraced me and I’m embarrassed to admit that I began sobbing as I wrapped my arms around him. I swore to myself that I’d never show any kind of weakness around them.

“It’s okay to cry,” he told me. “Don’t be afraid anymore. I’m here now. I’m here.”

“And I always will be. That’s a promise.”