#take care of yourself and remember that you might be here for a decade or more and behave accordingly

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Summary: Captain Price has been fighting the requests to add an omega to his team until those requests become commands. You find yourself traveling half a world away to join a pack of highly trained soldiers to balance out their dynamic. Not all of them are quite so happy about your arrival, but you're a good omega who does as you're told.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, brief moments of panic on the reader's side, scenting, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I couldn't help it and I've found myself falling into the Call of Duty brainrot once again so here I am to bless you with some poly 141 a/b/o goodness. It's just part 1, I promise things will get better as the story goes along.

MASTERLIST | Next ->

“I don’t like this.” 

“Believe me, John, I know. But the higher ups are putting a lot of pressure on us with this initiative and I’ve pushed back as much as I can. They’re convinced it will be good for morale and team dynamics.” 

He wants to protest, but he’s been protesting this idea for three months. “What more can you tell me about her?” 

“Not much that isn’t already in her file.” Her tone is not lost on him. She can, but that’s not a conversation to be held over the phone. “She’s quiet and polite, a bit jumpy but she relaxes once she gets to know you. Remember, I picked her out myself.” 

That doesn’t make him feel any better.

He flips through the file again after he hangs up with Laswell. He almost has it memorized by now, having looked through time and time again since the letter was dropped on his desk three months ago. 

He stares at the photo, the headshot taken by the institute in her file. She’s cute, as most omegas are. American, but she had grown up on military bases. At least this world wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to her. He grimaces as he looks over her DOB below the photo. She’s young, younger than he would have liked, but at least she was old enough to drink. 

He sighs through his nose as he flips through her records. She’s been in the institute for nearly ten years, likely sent as soon as she presented. He flips through page after page of test results, notes from her instructors, personality and temperament analysis, essays and essays worth of information written on her and also by her. He didn’t care so much about what her instructors thought, he was more interested in her. 

“Christ.” He breathes as he pauses on the page with her statistics, rubbing his eyes. The file has everything in it, down to heat tracking and her early signs it was starting. 

As if he doesn’t have enough to worry about, now he’s going to have an omega under his care. 

He hasn’t considered taking an omega in well over a decade. Back when he had been young and reckless, he had once considered starting his own pack, but then his career in the military began to take off and he let that dream go. It became too dangerous, and he had seen many times what happened to omegas who were left behind during deployments for too long. 

His team didn’t need an omega. He had briefly considered it in the beginning as they adjusted to the new dynamics, but he knew it was too dangerous and their schedules were far too unpredictable for the sort of stability omegas needed. He had fought time and time again against the push to add an omega to the team. They had settled into their roles easily, and operated perfectly fine with the missing dynamic. 

Then the Omega Initiative was born and he found himself with no grounds to refuse anymore. Task Force 141 was getting an omega whether they wanted one or not. 

He can’t help the tickle in the back of his mind that something else might be going on. He flips back to the first page, staring at the omega’s photo. They’d be here in a week. She’d be flying with Laswell to London where she’d be given a few days to adjust before they’d fly in here and she’ll be left with her new pack. 

Price closes the file, leaning back in his chair. He has a lot to do in the next week. 

You stare down at the files laid out on the table. Four of them, hardly more than a single page each, most of which was blacked out. They’re all older than you, their birth years at least visible to you. Most of the things on the file you don’t understand, and you weren't even sure how tall they were since you can’t convert meters to feet in your head. 

You’re tired and on edge, nervous about tomorrow when you'd meet your new pack. You sit back in your seat, letting out a long breath. 

“I know.” Station Chief Laswell, Kate as you had been told to call her, takes the seat across from you. “You’re going to have to get used to hearing the word classified. What they tell you about themselves is, of course, up to them, but the things they do, the places they go, even with your security clearance as high as it is, that will all still be-” 

“Classified?” You finish for her. 

Kate smiles. “Exactly. It’s mostly for your safety. The less you know...” 

The less there is to make you a target. 

You’d been given that speech before you left D.C. You’d been given a lot of briefings, as Kate had called them, since you had been pulled into the director’s office at The Institute and told to pack your bag. You remembered Kate and the interview you had done a few days prior. It hadn’t been any different than the other interviews you’d done before, except that you were chosen this time. 

What had come after was three months of intense briefings and training, for what, you hadn’t really known at the time. They had told you little, at least until last week when Kate pulled you into her office and told you what was happening and why it was happening and where you were going. 

“You don’t have anything to worry about, though.” Kate continues, something you’ve been told over and over again during your briefings. “They’re all good men. John and I know each other well. I wouldn’t have picked you if I didn’t think you could handle them.” 

You continue to stare at the files. Two alphas, two betas. It wasn’t an unusual pack, evenly balanced, except for the missing omega. If the situation were different they may have elected to have two omegas to keep the even balance. This wasn’t a normal situation, though. This was a military pack, special forces at that. It wasn’t unusual for packs to form on bases, especially those stationed together for long periods of time. Alphas and betas united together with one purpose, one collective goal. 

That was why so many alphas were drawn to the military. 

That, and the excuse for violence. 

Omegas weren’t allowed to enlist, omegas weren’t allowed to hold many jobs at all. It was usually only in special circumstances, and even then, they were more likely to be assigned into a pack than be allowed to work and care for themselves. In a lot of ways you were lucky. You wouldn’t have to fight to find a pack, fight to find a match, fight for one of the few decent alphas left in the world. Your road had been chosen for you as soon as you presented. 

In a lot of ways, though, things were worse for you. 

“How do you feel?” Kate asks, looking you over. You’ve grown to like the beta Station Chief in the weeks you’ve spent together. 

“Tired.” You run a hand across your face. 

“The time difference will do that to you.” Kate says, giving you a sympathetic look. “Not to mention everything else.” Kate stands, stacking the files and pushing them to the center of the table. “I have a couple more errands to run, so get some rest. I’ll pick us up some dinner on the way back.” 

You look nervous. 

He can’t blame you. He’d felt a bit of a nervous twist to his stomach this morning as he’d finished ensuring everything was in place. He doesn’t often get nervous anymore, years and years of experience giving him the ability to expect anything and react accordingly. 

This is different, though. This isn’t a soldier he’s greeting, this is an omega. 

His omega. 

As Pack Alpha he had more of a claim to you than anyone else. It was his mark you’d wear, his scent that everyone would notice first. It was his duty to protect you, to ensure you have everything you need. You’re not another member of his team, you’re not even a soldier. You’re just a poor civilian that’s been thrust into this world of danger and secrecy. 

“Captain Price.” Laswell greets him, shaking his hand. 

He greets her back, but he can’t help his gaze as it flickers to the omega. You’re small, as expected of an omega. Your sweatshirt hides most of your curves, but your jeans hug your full thighs. Most omegas are small and soft, designed to be held and healthy enough to bear children when cared for correctly. 

He doesn’t even want to think about that. 

Laswell introduces you, your feet shuffling a bit as you step forward toward him. Coming from an institute, you likely hadn’t had much contact with alphas before now. You try to stand taller, look braver as you stand before him, but he can smell the tangy edge of anxiety surrounding your scent. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You say, shaking his hand. It’s small and warm in his, your skin soft and slightly clammy. 

“The pleasure is mine.” He says, releasing your hand. 

You let it drop to your side, pulling your sleeve down over your fingers. You shift on your feet, your body language betraying your nervousness. Hunched shoulders, fingers tugging your sleeves over your hands, shifting your weight foot to foot as if you might take off running at a moment’s notice. Your eyes dart across the airfield taking in the movement around them. You’re on edge, alert, and likely a little overwhelmed. 

“I’ll show you around and let you get settled.” He says, his eyes shifting to Laswell. “You and I have some things to discuss.” 

You follow behind him with Laswell as he leads you towards the building that served as the 141’s home base. He points out different places you might find yourself visiting. The gym, the rec area, the mess hall, and finally their barracks. He leads you down the hallway where their rooms were located, pointing out each door before he gets to yours, sandwiched between his own and Gaz’s, with Soap and Ghost on the other side. 

He opens the door, letting you enter. He stays in the doorway, letting you explore the small space. Your bags had been brought in, the faint hint of the beta Corporal that had brought them in still lingering in the air. There’s four shirts folded neatly on the desk, one from each of them that they’d slept in for the last couple days to give you a chance to get used to their scents. 

“The lads are still running a simulation, but they’ll be done within the hour.” He says, drawing your gaze from the bed. “We’ll let you get settled in and I’ll come get you when they’re ready.” 

“Thank you, sir.” You say.

Laswell steps in as he steps away for a moment, letting the two of you say your goodbyes. You’d likely see Laswell again, and soon, but he knows after three months you’ll have bonded with her just a bit. 

Price leads Laswell to his office after she leaves your room, his ears picking up the sound of the lock clicking into place as they walk away. He’d left it on for a reason, wanting to give you the ability to feel safe and secure as you adjusted, even though you had nothing to worry about. 

“So.” Price says as he sits behind his desk, reclining back in his seat. “What can you really tell me about her?” 

Laswell gives him a knowing look. “The CIA has had their eyes on her for years now. The Omega Initiative as it is now, isn’t how it started. They were going to train omegas as agents, and she was one of the first names on that list. They had FIOT put a hold on her file once she came of age.” 

Federal Institute of Omega Training. The name was stamped on the front of your file. It was the highest rated institute in America, the place where most omegas born to politicians, government workers, and some military went. 

“They had agents go in and pretend to be interested parties just to make it seem like there was interest in her.” Laswell continues. “But, you know omegas aren’t cut out for this kind of work, so they changed the Initiative. She was still at the top of the list, but there were some...hesitations as to where to place her.” 

“What sort of hesitations?” He asks. 

“You saw those scores, John. She’s a good omega. Those purebred instincts are strong, and that makes her an easy target.” 

Most omegas born from an alpha/omega pairing were good at listening to their instincts. That was why they carried such a high standing, even among omegas. But, being so closely intune with their instincts made them more sensitive, more vulnerable. They were more likely to give in to an alpha, if the alpha knew how to play them right. 

Laswell pulls a file from her bag, sliding it across his desk to him. “She’d get walked all over in a larger pack, and the last thing she needs is to get hurt by an overbearing alpha.” There’s something hidden in Laswell’s words, his mind filing that away for later. “I need someone I can trust with her. She’s smart, learns fast. She needs a challenge, but also someone that won’t take advantage of her.” 

“It sounds like you’ve grown rather fond of her.” He says, flipping open the first page of the file. It’s the CIA’s data on her, everything they’d done in the last three months to prepare her for her life as a Special Operations pack omega. 

“Like I said, I’m the one that picked her for your team.” Laswell leans forward against his desk. “She knows what she’s in for. She was well prepared for this kind of life. She’ll let you mark her, no questions asked because that’s what she’s been told to do. She’s obedient, John, almost to a fault.”

“That could be dangerous.” Price says. 

“Yes, it could.” Laswell says. “I’m leaving her in your capable hands. She has my number, and so do you.” 

Price walks her back to the airfield, his head reeling a bit as he replays their conversation over and over. The hidden messages in Laswell’s words aren’t lost on him, and his gut feeling that something else was going on had been correct.

“Take care of her, John.” Laswell says. “I’m putting a lot of trust in you.” 

He hasn’t failed her yet. 

Your body is tingling. You’re not sure if it’s nerves or something else. You haven’t been around an alpha since the day of your presentation, when you had been pulled from your home and taken to the institute. You had nearly wanted to keel over when you came face to face with Captain Price. Your alpha. He’s a commanding presence, the tickling at the back of your neck still not quite gone even though the door is shut and locked. 

The bed is comfortable, not any worse than what you slept on in the institute. There’s extra pillows and blankets stacked at the end, likely for your nest when you finally settled enough to make one. The door to the private bathroom is cracked open, facing the end of the bed. There’s four shirts on the desk next under the window next to the bathroom door, and your bags are sitting in front of the dresser and closet situated on the opposite wall from the bed.

You push yourself to stand, ignoring the way your legs wobble as you stare down at the four shirts on the desk. They’re all olive green, folded neatly in the exact same way. You wouldn’t have known any different, except for the scents gently wafting from them, and the names on the tags. 

Price. You pick up the one that will be the most familiar, bringing it to your nose. Tobacco smoke, aftershave, something sharp like whiskey. All things you had scented on him in your short time together. Underneath you catch a whiff of his natural scent. Something woody, fresh. A tingle crawls up your spine, prickling in the back of your neck again. You drop the shirt on the desk, taking a step back to breathe in the unscented air for a moment. 

You’re breathing heavily as you go for the shirt next to Price’s. Garrick. You press the shirt against your nose, inhaling. Aftershave, different from Price’s. Some kind of lotion. Coconut oil maybe? You can’t pick up more than the base scent of beta, the soothing almondy scent. 

You take another deep inhale of it, letting the beta scent ease you before you let it drop to the desk beside Price’s. You grab the one next to it, looking at the tag. MacTavish. You lift it to your face, scenting another aftershave. There’s something citrusy mixed in as well, slightly watered down compared to the scent of the aftershave. Again, you can’t pick up more than the scent of beta, letting it ease the tickling on the back of your neck again before you let it drop back on the desk. 

One more to go. 

You pick up the last shirt. Ghost. The faceless one. You bring the shirt to your nose, wincing slightly at the sharp tang of gunpowder and metal, smoke and a lingering aftershave. You try to smell deeper, but your nose burns with scent blocker spray. You let out a huff, dropping it back onto the desk. 

This Ghost was dedicated to his anonymity. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

You sink back onto the bed, eyeing the shirts. Your senses have heightened, picking up the scents wafting off of them, mixing in the air. You pick up the sound of boots approaching, three pairs of feet making their way down the hall. You can hear them talking and laughing as they approach. There’s a pause outside your door and you hold your breath, sitting as still as possible. 

Of course they can smell you. You had sprayed yourself down with scent blockers before you left the hotel, but it had likely worn off by now. Even with the blocker, the scent of unmated omega wasn’t hidden easily. The entire base had probably caught a whiff of your scent by now. Caramel, vanilla, strawberries with the undertone of pure omega that made alphas go insane. 

“Coming, Si?” 

Your lungs burn as you hold your breath, and for a moment you’re afraid your heartbeat might be audible from how hard it’s pounding. Steps recede from your door and you don’t breathe until they’ve disappeared. 

You decide to unpack to keep your mind busy as you wait. You don’t have much, mostly clothes from the institute and toiletries. You don’t even have a photo of your family, that part of your life behind you. You put your clothes away, venturing into the small bathroom to put away your toiletries. There’s towels already inside, along with a few things like shampoo and soap. They’re all scentless, like the things you had brought from the institute. 

Nothing that could dampen your natural scent. 

You almost don’t hear the knock on the door, lost in your own thoughts. You take a steadying breath, hand hesitating over the lock. What if it wasn’t Price? What if it wasn’t anyone from your new pack? 

“Just me.” Price’s voice comes through the door. 

Of course he would notice your hesitation. He’s a trained soldier, he’s always going to be aware of his surroundings. You unlock the door, opening it slowly. 

Price greets you with a small smile, your nose picking up the scent of his aftershave and the lingering scent of tobacco smoke now that you’re attune to it. “They’re ready, if you are.” He says. 

You nod. “Yeah, I guess.” It wasn’t like you had much of a choice to say no. 

You slip out the door, closing it behind you. You’d ditched your sweatshirt, wearing a scoop-necked shirt to give them easy access for the scenting. Price leads you down the hallway, back towards his office. You’re not quite sure what to expect, the nervous twisting in your stomach coming back. 

“I thought we’d do it in a meeting room.” Price says, likely picking up on the change in your scent. “Somewhere neutral.” 

It’s smart, it’ll keep you from getting too overwhelmed by other scents or sounds. The last thing you need to do is panic and send them all into a spiral. Talk about a first impression. 

Price pauses outside a door, looking down at you. His gaze is kind, almost sympathetic as you take a deep breath. “Ready?” 

Not really, but you wouldn’t dare say that. You have to do this, and the sooner you got the awkward part over with, the easier things will get. You nod, hands tugging nervously at the bottom of your shirt. “Yes, sir.” 

Price opens the door, stepping in first. You’re glad for the few moments you’re hidden behind him as the scents in the room slam into you. Alpha and two betas, scents you recognize from their shirts. They stand as Price enters, and for a moment you want to stay hidden behind the alpha but you know you have to be brave. You were made for this. The words drilled into your brain over and over again at the institute flash through your brain. You have one job in life and this is it. 

You can hold power over them. 

The words from the book your bunkmate had smuggled in flash through your mind. “The Powerful Omega”, it had been titled. Authored by a progressive omega, it talked all about how powerful omegas could be, even those forced into traditional roles. You can get them all wrapped around your finger if you wanted to. 

You steady your nerves, clenching your hands into fists at your sides and step out from behind Price. Your skin prickles as three sets of eyes are set on you. Price is speaking but you’re not really listening as you take them in. You recognize the two betas from their files.

Gaz, you pick up Price doing introductions, has kind eyes. He’s tall for a beta, almost the same height as Price. He waves to you, offering you a small smile. 

Soap is the shortest of the four, more what you would expect from a beta. “Good to meet ya, lass.” He greets you, giving you a charming smile. He’s going to push your boundaries, you can tell. 

You’re beginning to see the dynamics already. 

“And Ghost.” Price says, your eyes finally moving to the place you’ve been avoiding since you walked in. 

All hulking muscle, Ghost seems to take up the entire room. Your heart flutters nervously as you meet his dark gaze, his face hidden by a balaclava with a skull painted on the front. His presence is oppressive, tickling the back of your neck. You’re not sure if you want to run or submit to him, every inch of him screaming alpha. 

Price’s hand on your back nearly makes you jump, your gaze finally drawing away from Ghost and back to him. “Come on, take a seat. Tell us about yourself.”  

Price sits at the head of the table, Ghost, Soap and Gaz to his left. You take the seat on the right, staring at the other three members of your pack. You jump into your spiel, things that they already knew if they’d read your file. There’s not much else to tell, since everything about you was in that file. That was its purpose, to make you look as appealing as possible to potential alphas and packs. 

“What about your family?” Soap asks, the sharp scent of your nervous energy spiking for a moment. “Do you still talk to them?” 

You shake your head. “Not for a few years. Institutes don’t really encourage keeping ties with previous packs, but I know there were a few omegas that did. It was hard to keep track of where my family was.” 

“Your father was a Marine, correct?” Price, even though they already know the answer. 

You nod. “Yes, sir.” 

“You lived on base?” He asks. 

You nod again. “Yes, sir. We moved a lot, but we lived in pack housing on every base. We were a family pack, and I was number four of eight by the time I presented.” 

“When did you get sent to the Institute?” He asks, almost regretting answering it. 

It’s a sore subject, he can tell by the change in your face and the slight souring of your scent. “The day after I presented.” You say. 

The tension in the room is palpable, Soap and Gaz’s eyes widening in shock as Ghost's shoulders tense just slightly. Price stares at you with a sympathetic look in his eyes. He knew it was likely shortly after, but that soon? Most would wait until the presentation had finished at least, and usually there was some downtime when it came to getting into an institute as well. 

“My father was a traditionalist alpha.” You say, something they also knew by your status. It was printed all over your file, squeezed in every place it could be as a reminder of your worth to whomever was reading it. “It was because we were already on base that they got to me so fast.” You explain. “It was my dad’s status in the Marines that got me into FIOT.” 

“What was it like, in the institute?” Gaz asks, wanting to change the subject a bit, if only to ease the sourness in your scent. 

You huff out a laugh, the corner of your lips lifting in a smile. “Not unlike the military, I think. We had strict schedules we stuck to every day. Everything was dictated for us, what we wore, what we learned, what we did with our free time and how often we got it. Even what we ate was chosen for us. We always had to be ready to be tested at any time, and we were always being observed.” 

“Your test scores were high.” Price remarks. 

You shrug. “I’m a perfect omega, or so my instructors always said. It comes easily to me. I don’t really have to think much about it.” 

“Did you really kneel for two hours straight?” Gaz asks. 

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah. There was one day...it was a couple years ago. I don’t know what caused it but there was something in the air. We were all on edge and worked up. The director got tired of us and made us all kneel in the mess hall during our two hour afternoon break. No cushions, no pillows. Just all forty of us, kneeling on the marble floor for two hours. Not everyone could do it. Quite a few got too fidgety, couldn’t handle the pain. Three even passed out.” 

“How did you manage it?” Gaz asks. 

Price wasn’t a fan of using instinctual habits as punishment. It left a bad taste in his mouth, and he can only imagine what else you could say they forced you to do with such nonchalance. 

“To be honest, I don’t remember most of it. I just let my mind go somewhere else and before I knew it the time was up.” You shrug.

“We won’t make you kneel for two hours.” Price says. “And definitely not without a pillow.” 

You smile softly. “Thank you, sir.” 

Price watches you, the way your eyes dart around the room again, the sour edge of your scent gone, but the tang of anxiety remains. You’ve relaxed some, though, your shoulders are not quite so tense and you’ve stopped picking at your nails. 

Ghost has remained silent the entire time you’ve spoken, eyes glued on you. You’ve tried not to look at him, finding your words get stuck in your throat whenever you meet his gaze. 

He’s going to be a problem. 

“There’s some rules we need to go over before anything else.” Price says. “You have freedom to roam this building as you please, but one of us will escort you if you need to go elsewhere at least until you’ve been marked. There’s other alphas on this base and I don’t want them getting any ideas.” 

You knew well enough omegas frequented the barracks on bases often. You don’t want to be mistaken as one. Even with their scents on you, you know that won’t stop some. You’re not even sure a mark will stop them either. 

“I want full transparency. If something happens you come to me, or you call Kate if we’re gone. If you need anything too, the same order stands.” You’re beginning to detect the edge to his voice, The Captain slipping through his more casual demeanor. “We have some downtime to adjust for now, but sometimes we may leave for weeks at a time. It will be rough, I won’t lie to you, but Kate pulled some strings and there’s an Omega Specialist that’s been brought in for you. You’ll meet her later, I’m sure she wants to do a full workup.” 

You’ve met many Omega Specialists in your time. The beta medical professionals that go through specialized training so they can assist and treat omegas better than regular doctors and medics. Most of them go through a residency at Institutes, studying and practicing on young omegas. The thought of having at least someone who might understand you on a deeper level is comforting. 

“I’m starving, let’s get the scenting over with.” Soap nearly whines, rubbing his stomach. 

His words strike a chord of nervous energy in you again. You had been prepared many times for the scenting. You’d seen instructional videos and done mock practices with your fellow omegas. Yet you feel like it’s not going to be enough. These were real alphas and betas, your pack. What if you don’t like the way they smell? 

What if they don’t like the way you smell? 

“If you’re alright with it?” Price says, looking at you. 

You’re taken aback by the offer for consent. You weren’t expecting it, as this was something you have to do. What would happen if you said no? Would they respect your boundaries? The fact you had been asked at all is shocking to you. You won’t say no, because you’ll have to do it eventually, and at least this way you’ll be walking around smelling like them. If nothing else, it might make this transition a bit easier. 

“Yeah.” You nod, swallowing down your nerves. “I’m okay with it.” 

All five of you stand from the table, your stomach churning with nervous energy. You try to clear your head, try to calm yourself so you don’t stink them out with your anxiety. You need your scent to be clear, to be as tantalizing as possible. 

“Don’t look so worried, lass.” Soap says as they gather around you. “We won’t bite.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your cheeks warm as Price steps up to you. He is right, that would come later. Likely during your first heat when Price would give you his mark and claim you as his. It wasn’t unusual for packs with multiple alphas to let more than one claim an omega, but judging from what you’ve seen of Ghost, you’re not sure that’s going to happen. 

He had a right to claim you too, but from the look of it, he was the least excited about your joining their pack. 

You tense as Price’s hands settle on your waist, lifting you up so you’re seated on the edge of the table, putting you closer to being eye-to-eye with them. They’re all so big, the natural consequence of genetics and their jobs. 

“Ready?” 

You turn to look up at Price, close enough you can see the freckles on his nose and the grey in his blue eyes. You nod, pressing your hands into the table as you bare your neck for him. Your heart is fluttering in your chest as he leans in closer, pressing his face against your neck. His beard tickles your skin as he rubs his face against your scent gland, warm breaths fanning against your skin. 

He pulls away just slightly, baring his own neck to you. You press forward, gripping the edge of the table as you press your face against his throat. You catch the scents you had picked up on his shirt in your room, the surface level scents that were environmental. You close your eyes, inhaling deeper. Woody. Pine? Spruce? It reminds you of a candle your mother used to burn. There’s another scent, the one that lingers. Petrichor, you think, rubbing your face against his scent gland. 

His hand on your side pulls you back from your scent-induced haze, and you force yourself back from him. You take deep breaths of the sterile air in the meeting room, picking up his scent more clearly now as it mixes with the others. 

“Good girl.” He says, squeezing your side gently. Something flutters in your stomach at his praise, some deep primal part of your brain preening at the thought of making your alpha proud. “Ghost.” He says, stepping back from you. 

You’re snapped back into reality as the hulking alpha steps up towards you, moving almost silently. You try to keep yourself calm as he stalks towards you, his sharp gaze burning into yours. 

He’s testing you. 

You won’t satisfy him, holding his gaze as he reaches you, his thighs pressing against your knees. One hand comes to rest next to your hip on the table, his body leaning in towards you. You’re enveloped by the black fabric of his sweatshirt as his other hand reaches up to tug his balaclava up. Stubble tickles your skin as he presses his face against your throat, breathing in deeply. He lets out a quiet sound as he scents you, almost akin to a growl. 

He shifts his weight, pressing his uncovered scent gland against your face. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply. Gunpowder and metal stings your nose again, along with the scent of his body wash. You press deeper into his throat, seeking out his natural scent. Something deep and musky washes over you, like suede or leather. There’s something fresh in there too, almost like eucalyptus. You press your face closer, inhaling it deeply. Your head spins, and you’re sure your knees would have given out if you hadn’t been sitting. 

Something rumbles in Ghost's chest as you scent him in a daze. While all alphas’ scents carried a natural musk, Ghosts seems to shoot directly to some deep part of your brain even Price’s scent hadn’t reached. 

You let out a quiet whine as he’s pulled from you, his mask back in place by the time you pry your eyes open. Ghost is leaning back against the wall, eyes back to their icy stare as he watches you. Your head is still spinning as someone steps up next to you, taking Ghost’s place. 

“How ya doing?” Gaz asks, eyes assessing you. “Hanging in there?” 

You nod, taking a couple deep breaths to try and clear your head. 

“You’re halfway there.” He says, leaning in closer. “Got through the hard part.” 

His breath fans your neck as he leans in, the familiar scent of beta flooding your senses. He was likely doing it on purpose, trying to calm you after the intensity of being scented by two alphas. You breathe in the almondy scent, relaxing into him as he scents you. Your hands raise, gripping his shoulders as he presses his neck close to your face. You seek out the source of the calming scent, pressing your nose into his scent gland. 

You’re drawn from the room and to the time your family took a trip to the beach when your father was stationed in North Carolina. Salty sea air, briney and clean, and something else, something soft. Like the clean linen scented spray your mother used on the laundry. You’re clinging to him, his arms around you as you relax into his scent. The tingling energy that had begun to build up at the proximity to the alphas fades as you melt into the calming energy of the beta in front of you. 

“Easy.” He says, his hand on the back of your head as he pulls you away from him. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head. “Still with us?” He asks, meeting your gaze. 

“Yeah.” You say, sounding breathless. You knew scenting could be intense, but you hadn’t expected it to feel quite like this. 

“Almost done, hen.” Soap says, taking Gaz’s place in front of you. “Lucky there’s only four of us.”

He’s right, you think as you bear your throat for him. You’re not sure you could have handled it had there been more of them. You already feel like you’re floating, enveloped in so many scents you’re not sure what to do. That tingling has begun at the back of your neck as Soap scents you, your eyes meeting Ghost’s. The look in them has changed, his body poised like he’s ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

Soap pulls back, blocking your view of him as he bears his throat to you. You press your face into his neck, pushing past the scents you knew, and that beta scent, looking for him. 

You inhale deeply, the scent of warm spices invading your nose. It smells like the holidays, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger enveloping you. You can almost taste the apple pie, see the gingerbread houses. You cling to his shirt, holding him against you as you rub your face against his throat. 

You’re trembling just slightly as Soap withdraws from your hold. It’s subtle, but to them, highly aware soldiers, it’s likely clear as day. Your skin is buzzing, like the fluorescent lights above you. You can hear it now, the buzz of electricity. Your pupils are blown, the room suddenly clearer and sharper. 

“There she is.” The low grumble of Price’s voice begins to pull you from your heightened state, your eyes turning to him as his hand cups your cheek. 

You press into the rough palm of his hand, eyes picking up the grey in his beard and hair as he stands in front of you. He’s older than you, they’re all older than you. Older than you, bigger than you, stronger than you. A small tickle of fear begins to itch in the back of your mind, drawing you from your daze. 

You’re vulnerable, entirely vulnerable and incapable of defending yourself against them. Forgetting second genders, they’re all much stronger than you, not to mention trained fighters. You’d be fucked if they decided to try anything, if they wanted to do anything. You’d be entirely helpless against them. 

They could if they wanted to. 

It would be well within their rights. Even though you had just met, even though you bore no claiming mark, there was nothing stopping them. You couldn’t stop them, and no one would help you. 

“You hungry, pup?” 

Price’s voice cuts through your fearful daze. There’s a slight furrow to his brow, likely picking up the sharp edge seeping into your scent. Omega fear and distress was the one defense nature gave to your kind, aside from the omega itself. It’s a putrid scent meant to ward off alphas and betas. You’ve heard it described as smelling like sulfur, burning coals, gasoline, melting plastic, and sometimes even the ozonic scent that accompanied alphas in a true rage. It was a warning, but it doesn't always work. 

Pup. Price called you Pup. 

You haven’t been called “pup” since you were a pup. It’s a commonly used nickname for any status. You remember your father calling your older brothers pup, even after they presented. It could be derogatory, but it’s more commonly used affectionately. He’s trying to ease your discomfort, the fear welling up inside you. 

The door is open, the fresh air of the hallway watering down the heavy mix of scents that had become trapped in the room. Soap and Gaz have already stepped out, Ghosts hulking figure blocking the doorway for a moment as he follows them, leaving you alone with Price for a moment. 

“Alright?” Price asks as your gaze meets his again. 

You nod, still leaning into his touch. “Yeah, ‘s a lot.” 

“I know.” His thumb strokes your cheek, a knowing glint in his eyes. He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Soap nearly passed out when we scented him.” 

You cover your mouth to stifle your giggle. It wasn’t unusual for scentings to become so intense that the receiver passes out. You’re sure if there had been more than four in your new pack you would have passed out. 

“Come on.” He says, wrapping an arm around your waist to lift you off the table and onto unsteady legs. He doesn’t even grunt with the effort, moving you easily. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not entirely one of fear. 

His hand is warm on your back as he leads you out of the room, the clean air in the hallway clearing your head further. Most bases have circulating air systems, constantly filtering out scents to keep things as neutral as possible. They’re less effective in smaller areas though, especially after scents were intentionally projected. Most military members wore scent blockers, at least while performing their duties. You remember your father coming home at the end of the day with the dull burn of scent blocker still on his clothes. 

Your head is still spinning a bit as you follow them out of the barracks and towards the mess hall. They seem to almost walk in a formation, though you suppose with years of having it drilled in your head, it’s almost second nature. You’re sandwiched between Soap and Gaz in the middle, Price in front and Ghost bringing up the rear. 

The other personnel on the base give your group a wide berth, and even in the mess you can feel the glances, but none of the stares linger. Price guides you next to him as you get your food, adding things to your tray for you. That tickling feeling starts again at the back of your neck as he makes your plate, your omega preening happily at the knowledge of what he’s doing. 

He’s proving his ability as a provider. 

In more primordial times he might have gone out and hunted for food to bring back to you to prove his capabilities. Even in more modern times, he might have hunted as some alphas still did, or he would have gone to the store to keep the fridge stocked full of food. Alphas are good at adapting to their surroundings and situations. He’s proving his capabilities in the way he can. 

You’re also silently grateful to not have to think too hard about the choices in front of you. Even after a week, British food is still a bit unfamiliar to you. It’s not entirely indiscernible, though, and you’re sure you could pick out things that sounded good if you had to. At this moment, though, with your head still reeling a bit and the unsettling energy of a new place filled with unknown alphas and betas, you’re happy to let Price do it for you. 

He carries your tray and his to a table, sitting you next to him. Gaz takes your other side, Soap and Ghost sitting across from you. The choices in their seating arrangement don’t feel quite so random to you, and you quickly realize the arrangement is similar to the room setup in the barracks. 

A beta for each alpha, you think. Gaz and Price. Soap and Ghost. 

Then there’s you, stuck somewhere in the middle of them. Somehow you’ll fit between them, squeezing into their perfect dynamic. Omegas are supposed to help balance packs, but as you sit with the four members of your new pack, you can’t help but feel like you’re only going to make things more difficult. 

NEXT ->

I'm willing to put together a taglist if people are interested...

[killishin]

— ☆ push and pull.

pairing: dr. jack abbott x reader

category: hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers sort of.

content warnings: mental breakdown, mentions of death and casualties, not proofread at all.

a/n: the pitt is over and now there's a hole in my heart. literally sped through this after an all nighter so it might not be that good. but enjoy :)

wc: 3k

dividers by @enchanthings gifs by @ho-ii

life in the ER had always been draining, it took a lot. when you had first started, freshly minted, a med student, you remembered being fascinated. the wonder twinkling in your eyes. fast forward a decade and more, now you're sitting in the washroom stall with your head in your hands, trembling and shaking bad while trying to pull deep breaths. all that experience, thinking you're finally used to it all— it still takes a toll out of you. the deaths and losses were always going to chip away a part of you, and you buried the pain till you couldn't no more.

the oncoming casualties had ceased, things were getting back to normal slowly. you were on fire, taking on patients twice as fast, maintained such a neutral facade that even the sweet resident dr. king had to check in, head tilted in concern.

you smiled. even through the chaos you found comfort in that little moments.

talking of comforting moments, your mind wandered to him, jack. he's been the shoulder you lean on for years, the strength you needed. but as time flew by, years passing by like seconds, you had started withdrawing.

dependency made your body grow warm with shame, you felt like a burden. you were an attending for fucks sake, you shouldn't feel so.. weak still. so sensitive. you can't let your juniors see that, least of all him. he has his own battles to fight yet he drops it all for you, you hate that.

a slow puff of breath left your lips, agonisingly slow that it hurt your lungs for a moment. you steal your heart again, close the doors to your secrets, stitch back the deep scars on your heart close— not a tear out.

cus that's what you do, you shut yourself in, a cage to protect him. at least that's what you think.

and thats one thing you have in common with him, shutting the world out. too afraid, too scared, too careful.

"dana!"

she looked behind, hands paused on her hips as she rose a brow at jack. "can't find them hm?" she asked, like the all knowing mother hen she is.

jack sighs, eyes sweeping around, "i saw them in the south with whitaker and mel. now i can't find them." his eyes stop at the washroom door, dana's eyes follow. of course she knows you're in there, she has eyes everywhere.

"might have stepped out to take a breather, you know." dana answered nonchalantly, busying herself with a smirk pulling at her lips. years she has watched you both revolve around each other, yearning so bad yet all its led to is more suppressed feelings and yearning. the one pair of idiots her matchmaking skills don't work on, it oddly irritates her.

"right." jack sees right through it, sighing as he rolled his eyes. he's right here so why does she always hide? he rubs his face for a moment, running his hand through his hair before looking around. his eyes stop at mel.

perfect.

"dr. [L/N]?" your head perked up at mel's voice, immediately standing up, wiping and patting your cheeks to remove all evidence of a breakdown.

"yeah?" you called out, "im coming! you need something?" you checked your face in the camera, swelled and puffy eyes and lips. just perfect.

"uh— yeah? im so sorry to bother—"

you shove your phone in your pocket, barging out the stall with a forced smile, waving your hand dismissively. "no no its no problem." you are way too conscious about the slight tremors in your hands and lips to notice mel looking oddly awkward.

"what's up, dr. king?" you wiped your hands with the tissue as you walked out, making sure to look away from her to somehow hide your face. mel hesitated as you stepped out, looking at the man who made her do this.

"well— i actually-"

"oh dr. king!" jack materialized out of nowhere, a smile on his face and you stopped in your tracks, your smile falling as you looked between them. and now you noticed how hesitant and confused mel looked.

"your patient in south 17 is asking for you." he said urgently, ushering here in that direction while her mouth opens and closes multiple times in sheer confusion because that's mohan's patient? what is going on? yet she walks away, too tired to question her superiors who clearly have something going on.

he turns back to look at you, a shit eating grin met with a deadpanned stare. "can you stop bothering the juniors with your shenanigans?"

"only when you stop camping out in the washroom." he retorted and you huffed in annoyance, starting to march away from him, head down, totally not to hide the puffy eyes.

but he's fast. of course he is.

"you know it wouldn't hurt to talk-"

"oh no no you don't get to go there." you scoffed out a laugh as you leaned against the counter, eyeing the board while subtly shooting dana a 'help needed' stare.

"i wasn't the one bawling—"

"christ abbott." you breathe out a distressed whisper as you shot him a glare, "dana can you tell this old man to stop bothering me and my juniors?"

"hey they're mine too—" jack scoffed as he jerked back, feigning offense, causing dana to laugh.

"for once it won't hurt you to actually talk to him you know." dana said with a knowing smirk and you stared at her in disbelief. "wow. did not expect that from you."

dana simply shrugged, her smile widening and she tipped her head at jack as if telling him to take care of you. as if you need babysitting.

"lets step out. come on." he gently nudged your elbow but you pulled away, that immediately made his smile tighten.

"we can't. they might need us. they will." you replied stoicly as you pretended to spot someone.

"they aren't babies, sweetheart. they can handle themselves for a few minutes." he said, sounding a tad too firm with his sarcasm, which was a clear indication of his thinning patience.

"its never a few minutes with you." you accused with a scowl and he rose a brow at you, his lips pulling into a cheshire smile, as he gently turned you around by the shoulders.

"well then you better hurry up."

the air did do you some good, at least you felt less panicky. but his presence and worries of what this talk might lead to was enough to bring a different sort of panic. you legs had automatically started pacing around and you had to remind yourself to stay rooted.

"here. you need something in you." he held out a sandwich, staring at you with calculative eyes and yet they were now softened, lacking that edge that everyone sees while at work. you grumble something incoherent before taking the sandwich, eating quietly while he simply stares.

of course he has noticed how you have started to become closed off, reserved when things get a little too tight. hell its more than he does himself. he didn't say anything on it, choosing to simply wait it out— because poking at sensitive topics meant baring out his own heart. and that, he isn't yet comfortable with that. he's never been.

"i can literally hear your thoughts you know." you mumbled and he sighed, all pretense of mirth dropping from his face.

"did i do something?" he asked making your hands freeze midair and your brows crease, "or did something happen outside of work? you gotta tell me, sweetheart—"

"nothing happened, jack." you said pointedly, making your voice softened so he believes it but he only shakes his head.

"that's bullshit i know it is." his eyes had narrowed, his feet taking a step closer on its own, "you've been shutting me out. distancing yourself. and i don't know what i did to deserve that but i sure as hell can't let you do it anymore."

your teeth grinded against each other, lips pressing into a thin line as your brows furrowed with the glare. "you can't make me do anything jack. its my—

he scoffs out a petulant smile, giving you a challenging look, "i can. i have for years and it was for your well being. stop being so stubborn and dense."

he doesn't know why he is being so firm and harsh, that was not how it was supposed to go. all he wanted was to ease you back out from the shell you locked yourself in. but somehow he was irritated enough, or maybe he was unknowingly afraid. that you would pull back so much that one day he might just lose you.

yeah that thought scared the shit out of him.

"thats rich coming from you, jack." you snapped at him, tilting your head as you narrowed your eyes. "you wanna give me a lesson at opening up? seriously?" your taunts were sounding more vicious somehow.

"whats that supposed to mean?"

"oh you know what it means, don't play dumb." you scowled harshly, "you're the one who never told me anything. you're the only who pushed me away when you clearly needed help jack. so why the hell is it such a bother when im doing the same?"

lost in this little confrontation, both had stepped a little too close to call it 'normal between friends.'

"i never needed help."

"oh cut it out!" you rolled your eyes and he redirected your jaw with his finger, back to look at him. the mere contact made your heart stutter, blank you out for a moment.

"you always came to me. it wasn't so hard before so why is it now? don't you kid yourself in thinking that i didn't notice your swelled eyes. stop..." he released a sharp exhale, quelling the temper down, "stop bottling shit up. tell me. I'll listen. that's what friends are for."

and then it hit you. maybe its not just fear from being a burden, maybe hearing that term friends for so long while loving this man has finally tired you out.

your brows resolved as your lips pressed into a thin line, "we're just coworkers, jack. not friends."

he froze, his eyes widening for a fraction of moment. that hurt. this wasn't just withdrawing, she was pushing him away. drawing a line and it fucking hurt.

"that so?"

"yes it is."

he stepped back, and the lose of contact immediately made your heart seize with panic but you didn't show it. two doctors who were the epitome of control in the ER had spit out knives for words, all because they didn't know how to admit to the love they felt.

he started walking backwards, a humourless smile on his face that couldn't hide the hurt. "i'll be back when you finally stop acting like a little kid."

everyone noticed how things felt off between you both after that, avoiding each other's gaze, harmless banter turning to an almost argument with you glaring at him and him just smiling, all smug. but nobody pointed it out, too tired from everything.

it was time to go home, the night shift ones were ushering you all out constantly, not that anyone was complaining. it wasn't just the med students but everyone looked spent and fatigued. few had gathered in the spot at the park, like every other time, but it was quieter. you were thankful for the beer, the quiet of the night and the cold condensation of the can had calmed your nerves. smiling didn't hurt that bad now.

while everyone else talked jack looked at you, brow raised in a silent question. you sighed as you slowly shook your head, he really did mean that huh?

so you found a spot on another bench, out of the others eyes and earshot, you know how much princess loves to gossip. you can't fuel it more.

it was quiet at first, you slouched back and quietly took small gulps out the can while he simply stared at you.

"you kidding me?" he deadpanned, "right. go on, we have all night."

you groaned as you rubbed your face, head flopping back to rest while the can rested between your thighs. "i don't know what you want me to say, jack."

"maybe start with why you're pushing me away?" he gently urged yet the hint of amusement didn't leave his voice.

"i—" you gulped as you sat up, looking at the top of the can while idly fiddling with it, "i just— im not pushing you away. i just don't— god this is much harder than i thought it would be-"

you took a big swig before finally facing him, burying down the nerves, "i don't wanna be a burden- or seem weak, jack. i know you're gonna say it sounds stupid and I'll never be, all that crap— but it feels like it." you look down at his hands as your grip on the can tightens, "everytime i come crying to you like some little needy idiot, it chips away at my ego okay? it makes me feel that maybe i wasn't built for this."

"everyone needs to let out their emotions, not just you. you know that. and there's nothing wrong with that. talking about it helps" he argued back softly, resting a hand on yours.

you look up at him and smile, "that so? then why don't you ever do that?" you murmured softly yet the accusation stayed strong, and his hand stiffened on yours, "you barely ever come to me. how can you expect me to talk about it if you never do?"

"i have a therpist—"

"i see you on that rooftop—"

"now you're stalking me?" he huffed out in exasperation as he shook his head, withdrawing his hand.

closing and pushing. again. that fear slowly creeps its claws around his heart. too close. he looks back at you, at your softened eyes and his heart aches at how the time at the ER had wore you down. yet somehow you managed to look absolutely breathtaking. and he swears, he wished everyday, to do something, tell you everything he's been feeling for all these years. yet his throat constricts— he can't. he doesn't know how to. he yearns and wants, yet he's too scared to let anyone in. let them see the damaged pieces of him that he so effortlessly hides behind the cool facade.

"jack." you tug at his hand, encasing his in your own, "what are you so afraid of?" you gently murmur and he wonders when did things go from you to him.

"...you." he whispered out, looking back up in your eyes, his hand twitching in your grasp. to pull closer. "god it's always been you."

"you scare the crap out of me." his fingers intertwine with yours, and he pulled you towards him slowly, aware of how fast each of your hearts are racing, "and i mean both in good sense and bad. have you seen you when you go all out on gloria? " you stifle a laugh as you shake your head and he wraps his arm around your shoulder, making you snuggle to his side.

"be serious jack." you chuckled softly as you playfully nudged his side.

"but you do. you scare me." he whispers as he rests his head against your temple, "im afraid that I'll lose you like the every good thing in my life. maybe to death or because of myself."

your heart stuttered at that, and warmed. you both were encroaching on that territory you both willfully avoided, and now a part of you wonders why. its scary, but at the same time it fills you with an ache so intense. an ache just to have him.

"I've fucked up a lot of things. you, are the one thing i can't even think to risk it." he whispered in your ear, raising his other hand to brush off a strand of your hair, "you're— fuck- you're everything to me. and I'll be damned if i lose you."

"you know you won't." you assure softly, your eyes dropping to his lips as you smile while holding his hand that caressed your jaw, "i know you won't. you can't."

" 'sides, im too used to your bullshit." you quip with a scrunch of your nose and he huffs out a laugh, "be serious, sweetheart."

"i am, jack. i know you, like the back of my hand and you know me. we may have our asshole moments but god even then you're the only one who gets me." you added as your smile widened, and your breath catches in your throat when you catch him staring at your lips.

"we've spent... way too much time avoiding... this." you whisper, nervously gulping down and he smirks, "wasted you mean." he corrected pointedly.

"semantics. you're saying like its my fault though." you murmured teasingly and he shrugged, withdrawing his hand to hold your jaw.

"more you than me." he deliberately riled you up, his lips twitching in amusement as you actually got defensive. "hey that is not true—"

"too much talking." he cuts you off before pressing his lips to yours, tilting his head as he pulled you closer. it started slow and steady, to calm the wild beats of their heart. it felt better than the fireworks, like finally achieving something your soul waited for years.

his hand pulled back to cradle the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist, and slowly the kiss got urgent. wanting and needing. years of waiting, desperate to get quelled. his kisses turned more intense, harsher as he nibbled at your bottom lip, smirking against your lips when you let out an inaudible gasp and he slipped in his tongue.

after a few seconds you pulled away, and he chased it with a few pecks. his eyes lingered at your swollen lips, kind of proud at that. you saw that, that smug bastard.

"i don't talk that much."

"doing it again, honey."

it won't be that easy to open up to each other, it'd take time, trial and error— give space and wait. it'd take a lot of time and effort but its okay, its okay when you know they'll stay.

reblog is much appreciated!

[oceantornadoo]

the ex-wife chronicles pt.3 (ex husband!john price x f!reader)

masterlist | next

follow and turn on notifications: @tornadoowarning

John wakes up regretfully. It’s too easy to bite at a newcomer, especially you with all the history between you too. He’s determined to make it up, but with Ghost and Soap coming, it’ll be a lot harder to get you alone. Plus, despite Soap’s injury, Simon is too perceptive. He’ll know something is going on. John’s debated telling the team about your ex status, but he doesn’t want to ruin whatever perception they have of you. He’s really hoping you can help the team, and he’s not going to let his past eclipse that.

Once John gets dressed, he finds you and Gaz eating breakfast in the kitchen. There’s a third bowl of oatmeal waiting for him on the counter, with a sprinkle of brown sugar. He just knows you made it and now he feels even more dick-ish. Great.

“Soap an’ Ghost will be here in thirty minutes.” John says by way of greeting. Gaz grunts, clearly still sleepy, and you nod, eyes trained on the empty bowl in front of you. “Thanks for the breakfast, Doc.” John murmurs as he walks past your chair to get his bowl. You don’t even correct his insinuation, just tense your shoulders a bit before dropping them and nodding. The air isn’t as tense as he thought it would be, which is the most he can ask for during this reunion. 

“You guys ready to see your teammates?” You ask the space in front of you. It’s said pleasantly, a rarity in a team built for battle and bloodshed. John nods and Gaz launches into a story of how, years ago, Johnny wooed almost all of the nurses that took care of him after a nasty cut to his leg. The story takes up the rest of breakfast, thankfully. He’s stopped by the sound of honking outside the compound. Gaz jumps in his seat and takes off to the front. You stand and move to follow, but John stops you with a hand to your waist.

“I’m sorry for last night.” He whispers, his hand moving to the small of your back as he guides you towards the front doors. Surprisingly, you don’t shrug it off. “It’s fine, John. I was being mean.” He squeezes your waist and drops his hand before he can remind himself that you’re no longer his to squeeze. “Reckon we both were. Thought a decade might change that, but looks like we’re still kids.” You bark out a small laugh and shake your head, looking down at your synced footfalls. “Looks like it.” You reply, light and airy. A welcome change from this morning. 

“If it makes you feel better, I am a bit. Lonely, that is.” He doesn’t know why he said that, why he’d trust you with that information despite having not seen you in years. It’s not like you know each other anymore, have no reason to trust except Laswell- “I think I am, too. Different reasons but…” You trail off, shrugging. When you look up at him, eyes catching for the first time this whole morning, he can’t help but remember how you look under him, wet and willing. Breath catching as you both try something new, his voice soft and low in your ear…

“Cap!” Soap’s voice, clear and healed, rings out in the crisp morning air. His hair is gone, replaced with a rough buzzcut on the side of his head that the bullet grazed. He grips a cane loosely, like it’s there just in case. Other than being in civvies, he looks almost exactly like normal. Whole. Simon is also dressed in civvies, a black sweatshirt and blue jeans, his arm fluttering at his side like he’s waiting for Soap to fall so he can catch him. It only took a bullet for him to get over himself. How predictable.

“It’s good to see you, Soap.” John peels himself from your side and claps both of his men in one-armed hugs. They linger a bit, mostly because John needs to feel Soap’s beating heart before he can let him go. When he’s done greeting Simon, he finds you already introducing yourself to Soap, your hand clasped in his. Simon stiffens imperceptibly and John pats his shoulder in reassurance before stepping back. “Few weeks an’ you’re already a caveman.” John grunts, only for Simon’s ears. He can feel the force of his eye roll and grins under his mustache before joining Gaz where he stands. You greet Simon next, and John holds his surprise in as the man takes your handshake. Maybe he has softened. Maybe so has John.

“Well, I’m glad to see you all together. Johnny starts his PT tomorrow, so today we’ll spend as much time as we can together. I talked to the facility and he’ll be able to join us twice a week on the days he’s not working with them.” You sound a bit like a summer camp instructor, but your brightness is welcomed to cheer up the reunion. If you weren’t here, John has a feeling they would’ve already started day-drinking in a dark pub somewhere. “Y’r makin’ me work, Doc.” Johnny comments goodnaturedly. You smile and it’s blinding. “I’m not treating anyone, but especially you, with kiddie gloves. I know the conditions you’re used to and I definitely know you won’t do any good being idle. Anyone disagree?” They’re all silent, even John. He can’t refute a single point.

They follow you back into the building, Gaz and Soap bickering like old times. Simon didn’t even pretend to bring an overnight bag, simply setting down an extra cane for Soap in his room. John’s chest tightens. He excuses himself to the bathroom, shutting the door forcefully and locking it. It’s hit him now, that it won’t ever be the same. Soap probably won’t be able to come back and Simon will do anything for him. Gaz is here, always following John’s lead, but he’s destined for greater things than Sergeant. John’ll probably get assigned new soldiers within the year, prodigies of their classes who aren’t worth half of any of his men. And for now he’s just in limbo, waiting. Shepherd and Makarov are dead. Other loose strings have been tied. His men will leave, but where does that leave him? Of course, he’s moved teams, locations, bases. But this one stuck, these are his men. With every thought, his heart beats louder and louder in his ears.

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Occupied.” John grunts out. “It’s me.” Your voice is muffled through the wooden door. Reason has long left him, which is the only reason his shaking hand unlocks the lock. You slip in quietly, keeping it tightly closed so no one else could see. “Gaz is taking them on a walk, we’re meeting them at base in twenty. When- John? Can you hear me?” He’s gripping the basin of the sink hard, like he wants to break it. The faucet is leaking, small drips landing every few seconds. 

“Alright, John, can you breathe for me? In and out, let’s do it together.” He scrambles and finds your hand warm and strong, squeezing his. It’s a reminder that you’re here, he’s here and not in some world where the carpet has been swept out from under him. You move his hand to your chest, where he can feel your lungs expand under your t-shirt. It grounds him as he matches your breathing to his, breaths calmer with every inhale and exhale. “You’re doing good, John. There you go.” Your voice rumbles through his hand, immovable as a mountain. He blinks and his vision is clear, staring straight into the mirror. His hand lays on your sternum, covered by your own. It feels a bit like ownership, security. The rest of his face looks…normal. His hair is in place, his beard sharp from where he cleaned it up this morning. There’s no signs of that immense pressure that had been pressing into him.

“Feel better?” You ask. He meets your eyes in the mirror, can sense you’re going into doctor mode. “Yeah, love. Feelin’ alrigh’.” The petname slips out unbidden, and neither of you acknowledge it. All you do is nod, squeezing his hand on your chest before dropping it back to his side. “Seeing them must have been hard. I’m sorry it hit you like this.” He nods. John runs the water and cleans his hands, washing away the sweat that gathered there. You watch from your perch near the door, all-seeing.

“John, do you-”

“Let’s talk later, Doc. Need to get t’ base.” He can’t bring himself to glimpse the pity on your face, so he simply walks out the door. There’s a ghost of a touch against his back as he passes you, so light he could’ve imagined it. Something tells him he didn’t, so he does what a good soldier does and compartmentalizes.

The two of you walk in silence all the way to base. When you both get there, the boys are waiting by what suspiciously looks like an…ATV. He turns to you, and the placid expression you’ve been maintaining suddenly transforms into a grin. “Welcome to our first day of team bonding!” 

-

“Don’t worry, we’re not doing anything to aggravate injuries. I just figured between this and a golf cart, you might want something fun.” Your words meet four blank male faces. Clearly, they are not excited at your tone. “Where are we goin’ on it, Doc?” Gaz eventually asks. “We’re going on a nature walk!”

Jeez, not a happy crowd.

“There’s a small forest a few kilometers from here. We’re going on a nature walk.” You like scaring human war machines with the phrase ‘nature walk’. It’s a way for them to talk about their feelings while hiding their faces in foliage, one of your favorite tricks of the trade.

Unfortunately, the ATV is not big enough. It would be, with two seats in the front and a bench for three in the back, if you were with regular soldiers. Unfortunately, Gaz insists on driving and Soap needs the passenger seat so he doesn’t get vertigo. They’re the two leanest which leaves you with two hulking masses of muscle in the back. You can’t sit in the middle as you tried to do in the beginning, before Simon almost sat on you. Before you can tell them you’ll meet them there, John swings out and snatches you from where you’re standing outside the vehicle. There’s no doors so in an instant, you’re seated on his lap. Right thigh, to be exact. You haven’t touched him like this in a decade and he’s since put on weight, muscle and fat combining into a very comfortable seat. You’ve gained weight too, but it doesn’t occur to you to protest. If he wants to sign up for this, you’re not going to stop him.

You’re not going to slide down further into John’s lap when Gaz guns the gas pedal, seemingly knowing where the forest is without you telling him. You’re not going to put a hand on John’s other thigh as you hit a bump, no seat belts in sight. You’re not going to squeeze it hard, to feel that rigid muscle and sinew under your fingertips. You won’t let his arm tighten around your waist, his hand splayed on your belly like he owns it. You will, in fact, ignore the side eye Ghost is giving you, the searing gaze of Gaz in the rear view mirror. 

You do jump off the moment the vehicle stops.

“Right, well, let’s get going before the sun gets higher.” Absurdly, you expect something to have changed during the ride. For John to pull you into him and whisper something foul in your ear. You expect to have to reject him or ask how he’s doing after his panic attack. None of that happens.

Instead, John stays in the back of the group, walking with Soap as he tests out his cane on the worn trail of the forest. You walk in between Ghost and Gaz, thankful for the latter’s conversation. You let them get settled in, cataloguing escape routes and the rustling of creatures until their shoulders relax. It’s only when Ghost seems settled that you clear your throat to get their attention.

“Right, everyone. We’re going to address the elephant in the room.” It’s been grudging acceptance so far, but the forest turns pin-drop silent. These poor soldiers, taught they have to wage war on themselves even off the battlefield. It’s unfortunate, to have such unique skills you get turned into a weapon, not able to wield yourself anymore.

“We’re going to say something we regret. Could be about the last mission, or not. But I want you to take this seriously. Think of things that have been on your chest.” The only sound is the occasional chirping bird. These men know how to walk silently, so you’re the loudest one there.

“I’ll go first.” You say when no one says anything. You decide to start light. “I regret eating oatmeal before this. My stomach is turning.” That gets a pity laugh from Gaz. You catch his eyes, pleading for him to go next.

“I regret not bringing enough candy back with me.” The men grumble and hum, going around in a circle with lighthearted comments. Forgetting cigarettes, a last trip to the pub, a massage. When it gets back to you again, you steel yourself for an uncomfortable silence. “I regret not staying in London longer.”

Gaz scratches the back of his head. Ghost cracks his neck. You can’t see Soap or John behind you, but you bet they’re fidgeting as well. They can sit for hours behind a sniper scope, but talking about their feelings sets them on edge, years of training down the drain. (You know that’s not true. That they feel comfortable and safe enough with each other to show these little bits of emotion. But you like to think it’s you, that unnerves them).

It’s quiet for a few minutes. Sticks break under feet and light breaks through the winter-worn trees, not yet having bloomed with new leaves. Only when the sun temporarily blinds you does Gaz speak. “I regret not spendin’ more time with my mum ‘fore I left.” He grunts out. You nudge his shoulder in thanks. He’s a bit stiff, but relaxes eventually. 

“Ah regret runnin’ in tae tha’ fuckin’ room.”

“Johnny-”

“Soap-”

“Now, Soap-”

Despite their protests, there was a collective sigh in the group. The acknowledgement, the truth of it barren and raw. Pain is etched into their faces, wrinkled and squinting. But there’s something else there too. Relief. Acknowledgement. 

“I think that’s enough for today. Let’s get some lunch in all of you.”

The dynamic switches on the way back. John leads, Gaz trailing hesitantly behind him. Ghost and Soap after him, their hands occasionally brushing as they walk. You bring up the rear, cataloguing your own admission. I regret not staying in London longer. You’d left for your first mission with the Americans, the meeting with Laswell that would change your life.

You’d also left to escape the divorce papers tucked into the bedtable of your new, shitty flat.

When you get to the ATV, John is already sitting in his spot, legs spread to accommodate you. You resolutely do not look down at his cargos stretched over skin. 

When you sit, John tugs you closer than he had on the way there. Gaz drives smoothly at a reasonable speed, no bumps in sight. You have no explanation for the hairy paw that sits on the pouch of your stomach, securing you like a seatbelt. Or your hand on his chest, the stability unnecessary as the ATV rolls over flat land. 

John squeezes your waist. You squeeze him back.

-

so i neared a super angsty moment with soap and the boys on this but i decided to stick to the romance bc me personally thats what i am here for

also im making this group therapy stuff up as i go pls dont expect medical accuracy

[hanasnx]

❝ starlight. ❞

── anakin skywalker x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 1.2k SUMMARY: a happy reunion. NOTES: no spoilers for ahsoka but takes place in an environment seen in ahsoka. force ghost anakin? who knows WARNINGS: f!reader | dom!anakin | pnp | coitus | kinks: size, praise | breath play: choking | attempted: possessiveness | implied: established relationship | doggy style | unprotected sex | hair pulling | body image: “hair long enough to pull.”

“Why am I here?” you question. Your pliant hands open at your sides, inviting him to answer you.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER's lips quirk in a familiar manner, a funny feeling growing in the pit of your stomach at the grave reminder you haven’t seen him in years. “Some might call it ‘unfinished business.’ Shall I enlighten you?”

“Please.”

“You needed closure. You sought me out.” he accused you, even while buried deep inside you to the hilt, as he once did decades ago. Even after all this time, you’re still not used to his size. The sheer sensation of it grips you infallibly, nodding your head in desperation to be heard without the use of your weak voice. Like dogs, you’re tangled together on the floor of this mysterious, unknown place. An environment unnamed, and a situation inexplicable, yet you couldn’t give yourself to him fast enough. “You wouldn’t believe how lonely I’ve been. How long I’ve waited for you.” he exhales into your hair, hot breath fanning over your skin as you cry out. “Finally, you’re open to receiving me.” In more ways than one. you think to say, but the words cannot leave your lips.

“Anakin,” you begin, but you can’t form whatever sentence you’d hoped to find.

His sweet, pleased crooning interrupts you, sending shivers down your spine. “Say it again.” His body weight sinks into you with the request, his hand loving and tender against your throat as it squeezes so candidly.

“Anakin!”

“Yes, star shine? Anything. Anything at all, it’s yours.” he coos as he shifts back and forth on his hip, sinking into your welcoming, wet heat. “Tell me,” That palm on your neck strengthens and you keen. How can you possibly ask him questions while he unravels you as expertly as he’s done a thousand times before?

You sigh, “Harder.”

A pregnant pause as you sense his grin stretch against your scalp, pressing a kiss to it in gratitude. “That’s my girl.” he praises your invitation, obliging you swiftly. The noise of your conjoined bodies heightens with each snap of hips against yours, the slivers of exposed flesh smacking against each other in a delicious sting. When you brace your palm against the ground of this bridge made of light, stars spread from your touch, and you get lost in the wonder of it. You’d had no time to admire the beauty of this “after-life” because of Anakin’s all-consuming nature. How he draws you into his intense gaze, and you’re undeniably under his control. Your refusal always falters. No matter how logical you may be, Anakin will be one step ahead of you. Out-maneuver you until you’re in a position much like this. A bitch in heat as he uses you to his heart’s content.

Apparently, he cared not for your distraction, and his hand brushes from your throat to your jaw. He cranes you neck in a curt motion, and your eyes are back on him. Flexibly, you’re inclined towards him as he captures your lips. As soft as you remember, they mold against yours. When they part, you’re all too eager to plunge your tongue into his willing mouth, receiving you to taste all you have to offer.

Briefly, he breaks it, only to murmur against you, “You missed me?”

“Of course I did, Ani, of course,” you ramble, and his grasp clamps around your cheeks to purse your lips. He leans in to redistribute his kiss and quiet your whimpers. This time, he’s unapologetic in the way he pries your teeth apart to dive his tongue in. As if he missed the most mundane parts of you, the tip lines your molars, the roof of your mouth, under your tongue, anything. You arch away from the pressure of him pressing further, an ache in your jaw as he sticks his tongue down your throat. You can’t hold yourself up against his rigid body weight, and you collapse onto your cheek.

Undeterred, Anakin chases you. Greedy for you, he latches onto your ear, biting down onto it, sucking on the cartilage as he plows you. The way he fills you, you feel so empty when he pulls out, only to bully his path back in.

“How are you here? How are you doing this?” you mumble, the power to speak draining from you with every second he’s inside you. As if he feeds in your very life force. His needy grunts in your ear send you reeling, and threads through your locks with his fingers, gripping the base of your follicles to grant himself leverage. The tingles from the action shimmer throughout your figure, and you curl your toes.

“Are you to question every gift?” he asks with a hint of amusement to his ragged tone. The grace and formality he’d greeted you with at the beginning of this meeting had melted away. Replaced with carnal desire and ache. “I know you, my star, you’re close.” He’s right. Your walls quiver around his formidable member that bruises your insides so delectably. “Ever the glutton for punishment.” he tsks, his knowledge of your desires serving him in this aspect. You’ve never shied away from a large cock, and Anakin’s the biggest you’ve ever taken. You lurch as he hammers in a particularly hard angle, and he chuckles at how you clench around him. “Not the only one who missed me…” he muses as he stares at your swollen folds, swallowing him up. Referencing your pussy as some insatiable entity always drove you mad with lusts.

Your helpless noises spur him on as they spill from your agape mouth. “My love, my love,” you blubber. Overwhelming emotion overtakes your exhausted nervous system, tears welling in your eyes. The sentimentality of something so debauched as sharing your most sacred parts with your long-lost-lover flares in your chest, your throat closing up. “Make me come… please? No one can like you can.” you manage to promise.

The notion you’d tried to get over him had Anakin stepping it up, increasing his pace. “Is that so?” he taunts. His free hand splays against the base of your spine, bouncing you onto his cock to meet his thrusts. You bite your lip in an attempt to silence yourself, and you become acutely aware of how he twitches inside you, signaling his impending release.

“Yes! Yes, I promise,” you insist, hoping to aid him in his endeavor of laying claim to you for the thousandth time.

By your hair alone, he yanks you up, clapping a hand over your throat to pin your back to his chest. The pressure forcing you to reticence. “Anything, my sweet,” he repeats. Anything for you.

The insurmountable wave crashes through the two of you, rippling through you head-to-toe. You pulse in his hold, but he’s steadfast, clutching you through it while your writhe in his grip. Languid kisses pepper where he can reach, his large arms securing you as you come down from you white-hot high. He remains seated inside you, embracing you.

[genevievefangirl]

How to AO3 - A Tagging Guide Masterpost

Maybe it is the autism, but I've always found AO3's tagging system to be extremely fascinating and fun. However, I know that many people do not share my love and find it frustrating and difficult.

Now after over a decade of reading fics on there I can say that I have *opinions* on how works should be tagged. I have seen many people lament over not knowing how to tag, and if that's you, here's a guide!

Blanket Disclaimer – Tagging is inherently subjective.  There are very few cases where a fic is truly tagged ‘incorrectly’ since an argument can be made for or against the inclusion of most tags.  Besides the 4 major warnings (and selecting a fandom & language), everything else is optional (and you can even not do those 4 if you choose “Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings”).  So take a breath and relax, you will be fine.

Additionally, since tagging is subjective, this advice is how I think works should be tagged.  You are free to disagree, but these are the guidelines I use and the interpretation that I think makes the most sense.

Alright with that out of the way... here we go!

1. What are tags even for anyway?

Tags are advertisements for your work. Each tag should be considered with care, don’t just throw on a tag for no reason.

There is one main question I want you to take away from this entire post. If you remember nothing else, remember this. When considering to add a tag, ask yourself:

Would a reader looking for this specific tag be happy with this story?

The answer to that for every tag on your work should be an enthusiastic YES. If the answer is no, cut the tag (with a few exceptions – mostly kink/warning related)

2. Ratings

The lines between some of the ratings can get fuzzy, but I generally think about them like I would think about movie ratings.

Not Rated This is the one to use if you either don’t want to rate your fic or are unsure.  When people search, this will be treated like M and E fics (meaning a warning will be shown about possible adult content when people click on it). G - General Audiences Suitable for everyone. You could show this to someone under 13 and it would be totally fine. T - Teen Think PG-13 or the equivalent rating in your country. I would categorize total fade to black sex scenes in here and violence on the level of the original Hunger Games books. M - Mature Adult themes such as sex, violence, etc, but not exceedingly graphic. This is where partial fade to black sex scenes go as well as scenes in which the sex is described but not in detail. For violence, I would put anything in here that doesn't spend a ton of time describing the gore. E - Explicit Porn and graphic violence. This is where smut goes. I do also think that when AO3 readers see an E rating they expect sex so if you are rating something E for violence and there is no sex present, you might want to put that in an additional tag so as not to confuse people.

For ratings - use your judgement. Some topics are inherently dark (suicide, non-con (even off screen), death, etc). It is up to you to pick what you think that appropriate rating is for your story based on what you think.

3. Archive Warnings

When you get to this section you will be confronted with 6 checkboxes: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, and Underage Sex.

The last 4 of those (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, and Underage Sex) I will now call the 4 Major Archive Warnings for the rest of this post.

Now let's walk through each of the 6:

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings - You pick this one if you do not want to select any of the others. If any of the 4 Major Archive Warnings exist in your story and you don't want to tag them, then you MUST select this option to be in compliance with AO3 Terms of Service.

No Archive Warnings Apply - You select this if none of the 4 Major Archive Warnings exist in your fic.

Graphic Depictions of Violence - Often people get tripped up with what counts as 'graphic' for this warning. I usually think about this one in relation to the source material the fic is from. For example, what might qualify as 'graphic' in one fandom might differ from another. But I tend to use the movie rating scale again (anything that would be too much for PG-13 gets the warning), but again it is up to your judgement.

Rape/Non-Con - Pretty self-explanatory. If your fic has this at all, you should tag it. When I see this tagged the implication to me is that the assault occurs on-screen. However, if you want to tag if for off-screen non-con no one will stop you.

Underage Sex - Again, self-explanatory. If your characters are underage and have sex, tag it. Technically, for AO3, underage is considered under 18 no matter where the fic takes place or where you are writing it, so take that under consideration. (This tag can get complicated with immortal beings, aliens, ghosts, or other supernatural elements, just use your best judgement).

Major Character Death - I have the most to say about this one because I find it the most confusing of the 4. I will attempt to not go on a rant here about how I really dislike this one (but man do I hate it). Here are some questions I often see about this warning and how I would answer them: 1. So... who counts as a major character? AO3's official answer to this is to use your judgement. Which isn't super helpful. I think the warning should apply to major characters in your fic not the source material. For example, if your fic's main character is Leon and Arthur dies at some point, but he wasn't a focus of your fic, then I don't think MCD should be tagged. (This might be my most controversial tagging opinion) 2. How do I determine who the main characters are in my fic? Here is my approach - if your story has main ship X with characters A and B driving most of the plot and character C is also there, but is not the main focus of the story, then killing C does not count as Major Character Death. However, if the story is about a trio of characters A, B, and C and A and B also happen to also be in a relationship, then killing C would be Major Character Death. In the end it is up to your discretion as the author, but I would think about how much the character contributes to make a determination. 3. What about temporary death? Do I have to tag MCD for that? I don't think so. The Temporary Death tag exists for a reason and that should be sufficient. 4. Okay so I don't think the character I killed is a major character, but some people might disagree and I don't want people to be mad that I didn't tag MCD. What should I do? Tag Character Death and leave it at that. In my opinion, that is sufficient warning that someone might die. 5. What if the characters are already dead at the start? Like they are ghosts or something? If your characters are essentially immortal creatures whose natural state is dead then I don't think you need to tag MCD. The spirit of the MCD tag is that a character is going away. If the characters are dead but still around then I don't think that is MCD.

Yeah I have a lot of MCD opinions... but moving on!

3. Categories

These are for the type of romantic relationship is in the fic.

Gen - No romantic or sexual relationships, or relationships are not the main focus of the work. F/F - Female to Female F/M - Female to Male M/M - Male to Male Multi - more than one kind of relationship or relationship with multiple partners (so both Poly relationships and fics with multiple relationships as the focus go here). Other - Relationships not covered by the other categories.

4. Fandom

This one is usually easy. You just tag the fandom for the fic you are writing for. Done! But there is an instance where this can get confusing...

When do you tag multiple fandoms? You tag multiple fandoms when you are using elements from another fandom in a CROSSOVER instance! Do NOT tag it if it is used in an AU instance! The difference is subtle, but for example, I am writing my Dead Boy Detectives Hunger Games AU, but since I am NOT crossing over with Hunger Games characters and am only using the Hunger Games setting, I do NOT tag Hunger Games.  However, if my fic were to use characters from Hunger Games (like if Katniss showed up for a chat), then I would tag it. This is important because: 1. Some people filter out crossovers and you don't want your fic to be considered a crossover when you are just using it as an AU. 2. Tagging other fandoms where you really aren't using the characters floods the other fandom tag with works that aren't really related to that fandom and that isn't a nice thing to do.

5. Relationship Tags

/ vs & - they mean two different things! The / is for romantic relationships. The & is for platonic relationships. There are times when tagging both is acceptable. For example, if your fic is ambiguous about if two characters are together then you can tag both. Also, if the 2 characters haven’t gotten together yet, but they will at some nebulous point in the future beyond the end of the fic, I think it is fine to tag the / tag since it is pre-slash, but that depends on personal preference.

Poly Ships - “But what if I have a poly ship?  Do I tag the poly ship and all the sides of the triangle (or square, or pentagon, you get it)?” It depends on personal preference, but here is how I would do it- Remember , the key for adding any tag is “Would a reader looking for this specific tag be happy with this story?” So, for example, if you are writing a poly fic with characters X/Y/Z and X/Y have scenes together alone and Z/X have scenes alone, then you tag the poly ship and those sides of the triangle. But say Y/Z don’t have much development outside the poly ship, then you don’t tag them. Poly ships can make your relationship tags quite long, but it is better to cover your bases adequately. This way, if people don’t want the poly ship, they can filter that tag out, but if people don’t mind, they will still be able to find your fic while searching for the non-poly tag.

Side Ships - “X couple are the main focus of my fic, but Y couple is there too, should I tag both?” It depends on a couple of factors. If someone clicked on your story just for the secondary Y ship, would they be satisfied? Is there enough content to justify it being a Y ship story or are they just there to support the main X ship? - If they are just in the background and mentioned but get zero onscreen development or scenes DO NOT tag it in the Relationships section! - If they get screen time and development, then DO tag them in the Relationships section. If Y ship does not get enough development to be tagged in the Relationship section, you can tag them in the Additional Tags section. This allows you to highlight couple Y's presence in the fic without clogging up their relationship tag.

6. Characters

Now you might think that if a character is in a relationship tag, then they should be automatically assumed to be in the fic. THIS IS NOT THE CASE. Perhaps a fic includes allusions to X being with Y, but Y isn’t actually present. In that case, only X should be in the Character tags.

On the flip side, if both members of the relationship tag are present in the fic, always tag characters in the Character section too! If someone is just filtering on X and doesn’t put anything into the Relationships section, then they will not find your fic if you don’t tag them individually!

How many characters should I tag? Do I tag everyone? In shorter one shots, you can probably get away with tagging all the characters even if they only have a small role. But in long fics, choices must be made. Tag everyone that you feel gets adequate attention and contributes significantly to the plot. Again, would a reader looking for this specific character be happy with this story?

7. Kinks

I’m not gonna get into the specifics of this because I don't really want to and it isn't my area of expertise, but you know what these are 😂

If you are writing smut, then you should tag the tropes you are using so people can properly filter on what they want and don't want to see.

8. Warnings (outside the Major 4)

There are a lot of warnings you can tag for outside of the Major 4. Here is a list of some of the common ones I have seen:

Suicide

Self-Harm

Incest

Manipulation

Alcoholism

PTSD

Minor Character Death

Gun Violence

Non-consensual touching

Body Horror

Dub-Con

Torture

Psychological Horror

Abuse (Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Animal Abuse)

Homophobic Language

Grief/Mourning

That is in no way intended to be a comprehensive list, but you get the idea. If there is something in your fic that you feel might upset someone, consider tagging it.

9. Time/Universe

Tell people when/where your story takes place!

Alternate Universe - in which something is changed from the canon universe. I usually sort them into 2 major subcategories: 1. Canon Divergence - The fic changes an aspect from canon, but still is in the same general universe. 2. Other AUs - These fics go wild! It can be anything from the classic Coffee Shop AU to an AU based on another fandom property (Harry Potter AUs, Hunger Games AUs, etc) Get creative with your AU tags! If the tag for your specific AU doesn't exist, make it yourself! Also, you can tag multiple AUs for one story if they all apply (such as tagging both Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse and Alternate Universe - The Last of Us Setting)

Canon Universe - The fic takes place in the fandom universe with no changes. There are also subcategories here! 1. Pre-Canon - takes place before the timeline of the source material. 2. Post-Canon - takes place after the timeline of the source material. 3. Canon Compliant - takes place during the timeline of the source material and doesn't change that timeline (think missing scenes)

Almost every fic should have either an AU tag or one of the canon tags!

10. Gender Swap/Trans Characters

Remember that tags are advertisements! If you are writing about trans characters or gender swapped characters, people want to find that! Let them know and tag it!

11. Genre/Big Tropes

These are the big ones. Every fic you post should have at least one of these tags:

Angst

Hurt/Comfort

Fluff

Smut

Romance

Humor

Crack

Every fic has a feeling you want to evoke or emotion you want to convey and that is what these tags are for. Let the reader know what they are in for!

12. More Specific Tags

This is for everything else. This is where you can have a lot of fun. If there is something in your story you want to highlight, put it in the tags! Here are some examples!

Amnesia

Friends to Lovers

Enemies to Lovers

Slow Burn

Mutual Pining

Fake Dating

Miscommunication

Pregnancy

Mpreg

Jealousy

Abandonment Issues

Codependency

Cuddling

Fake/Pretend Relationship

First Kiss

Love Confessions

Hurt (insert character here)

Protective (insert character here)

Time Travel

Apocalypse

Established Relationship

Or literally anything else your mind can think of! The possibilities are ENDLESS!!!

13. Joke Tags

AO3 is not tumblr, so do not treat the tags like you do on there. The goal of the tags is for readers to find your fic if they want to read it and filter it out if they don’t, so don’t take up a ton of space with joke tags.

However, some joke tags can be fun, and I don’t mind seeing some of them, but keep it limited to a couple at most. They are most useful to clarify something about a tag you used. For example, I tagged “Slow Burn” but right after that tag I put “but also they literally share a bed all the time so… take that as you will”. It is a joke, but it also provides useful information to the reader.

14. How many tags is too many?

AO3 limits you to 75 tags, but you should probably never be approaching that number. I’d say ask yourself that main question (“Would a reader looking for this specific tag be happy with this story?”) for each one of the tags. That should help you narrow it down to the main ones your story represents.

A reasonable goal is that your tag list and summary should just about fit onto a phone screen so a reader can see all of it at once.

I have about 30 tags (including everything) on my current long fic with over 90k words; you don’t need a million tags.

AND THAT'S A WRAP!

My God this too me way too long to make, but I hope this is helpful! Now go tag like an expert!

[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 1/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Ch. 1: Fallen Angel

Summary: After a new drug rendered Homelander both powerless and amnesic, he gets saved by someone blissfully unaware of who he is.

Shoutout to @blindmagdalena who did the impossible: Making me simp for this guy. Your writing is simply impeccable! 💌

Warnings: Injury, blood, lots of exposition, not proofread

Notes: Hurt/comfort, OOC, pre-canon, Scientist! Reader, idc about logic gaps (I will cry if you point them out to me)

Four days already, and he still hasn't woken up.

Winter in the Canadian Arctic was rough, with the polar night bringing permanent darkness, as well as severe snowstorms that could last up to a week.

Luckily enough your old radio communication system was still functioning, so you were at least able to request a few necessities in advance: Food and water for another person, a doctor of course...

...and clothes for the guy you had to cut out of this ridiculous costume to patch him up properly.

Leaning back in your chair, you take some deep breaths, unable to concentrate on your work. Your glance unwillingly wanders back to the man lying on your bed, still unconscious.

Who knows how long the weather will cut you off from help arriving? You just hope he will make it until then.

Maybe it's for the better, though - since whoever had done this to him could still be out there wanting to finish the job, too.

It bordered on a miracle that he landed so close to your research station, when you were outside to notice at that. And the storm followed only shortly after you managed to pull him inside.

That man really had more luck than anything, even while having been messed up like this.

You watch him until you're sure he's still breathing and not in any discomfort, once again catching yourself admiring his handsome features.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was a literal fallen angel that crashed from the goddamn sky, right into your little front yard.

Damn it, the loneliness that came with this job made even your thoughts pathetic...

Well, to your defense, you've been raised pretty isolated your whole life, with parents being a doctor and a scientist that were devoted to spend their work at the most remote areas of the world.

It surely was a unique childhood with lots of traveling, and you were mostly spared the soulless corporate-controlled bullshit that was modern society. To add to that, your parents were never fond of using electronics for more than practical reasons. Not that there was internet connection where you lived either way.

All in all, while you obviously know about supes in general and might even have heard about Homelander the brief time you spent in civilization, the last time you've actually seen his face on a magazine or some sort was decades ago - and you didn't care enough to remember.

So it was no wonder that you were completely oblivious to who exactly was lying in your bed this whole time.

Sighing, you close your laptop with a dramatic gesture before making your way to the kitchen unit. You pour yourself a coffee to fill your rumbling stomach, having rationed the food in favor of your new involuntary roommate.

Having followed the footsteps of your parents - yet without proper funding - you led this mission all by yourself. At first it was bearable, since an elder native couple came to visit and assist you from time to time.

But your work demanded you to stay secluded from human intervention, deep in the mountains with the next tiny village being half a day march away. And now that winter made traveling scarce due to the dangers, the idea of some company certainly wasn't so bad.

You almost felt bad for being excited about him being here - whatever had happened to make him end up here was exactly the oppsite of great, after all.

Even though the emergency power aggregate was whirring loudly, the sound of strained groans reaches your ear - not the first time those past few days. So you immediately rush over to the man's side, pouring him a glass of water and dissolving some painkillers in it.

"It's gonna be alright" you assure him, unable to tell if he can even hear in this state. Blood is seeping through the makeshift bandages, making you realize you should probably reapply them soon. Maybe after the meds had some time to release their effect...

...however, just when the cup touched his lips, two icy blue eyes snapped open, making you wince.

"Don't touch me, fuck!" a raspy voice snapped at you, quite understandable in his situation. He pushed you away from him, causing you to stumble and fall as the glass scattered on the floor right next to you.

"Whe-where am I? And who the fuck are you?!"

"Who the fuck am I?" You felt almost offended at the accusation in his look, having to remind yourself that the person in front of you is in fact in an exceptional situation. "You're in my house. I found you injured in the middle of nowhere. So I should be asking you!"

His face fell in shock at the realization, internal struggle present in his features as he finally whispered - no, whimmered "I...can't remember..."

Racketing his brain around to make sense of the situation, he stumbled across his own words and repeated "I-I-I-I can't remember!"

"Can't remember what exactly?" You spoke more softly now as you got up, tentatively approaching him. He on the other hand jumped up from the bed, panic increasing with every passing second.

"Anything! I-I don't know who I am- shit, what happened?!" He was shaking, muscular chest having as he started to hyperventillate. You hesistantly put your hand on his back, feeling him tense at the sudden contact. "Please don't move too much. You're injured."

Only now he noticed the medical wraps around his chest, abdomen, left arm and both legs. Hell, his whole body was aching but the adrenaline wouldn't let this stop him from standing up, pacing around the small room.

Being overwhelmed with the situation as well, you decided it was best to tell him everything. "D-don't freak out, but we're in the middle of the arctic." Having a feeling that he wouldn't believe you - fair enough, though - you opened the door, revealing a snowy landscape. The doorway was already halfway buried under a snowy blanket, and the heavy winds were biting his exposed skin. "We'll have to wait until the storm settles. And even then, with your injuries you probably won't make it to the nearest village."

There was a long pause of silence between your explanation and his response, blinking at you in both disbelief and despair. "...if you don't know me, then how the hell did I get here?"

"My best guess is that you're a supe" you shrugged, hoping his memory loss didn't also affect his general knowledge. You pointed towards the torn bodysuit in the bin, stating matter-of-factly "You literally fell out of the sky. Even with the snow absorbing part of the impact, you should be dead - especially with those injuries."

Not really good at comforting someone, huh, you internally scolded yourself. Yet you gave it your best to calm him down and sign your goodwill.

"Sit down or your wounds will reopen." After a brief moment of looking at you all forlorn and maybe even a little distrustful, he accepted your help. You led him back to the edge of the bed, sitting next to each other as support for him to stay upright.

"Doesn't feel like anything about this body is 'super' right now..." he joked bitterly, rubbing his sides. You chuckle sympathetic, carefully patting his back in reassurance. "Maybe you don't have access to your powers because of the amnesia? I'm not quite sure how any of this works."

"Yeah, maybe..." His eyes were now locked on you, forcing a weak smile as he finally took a proper look at you. "You still didn't tell me to who I owe my life."

"Me?" as inappropriate as it was for the situation, he did manage to make you flustered just by that - and it didn't really help that he was still only in his underwear, testing your decency not to stare. "Oh, my name's Y/N Y/L/N. I'm an ecologist. Been here for eight months to document the effects of climate change on the biome, and-"

"Climate change?" he rose an eyebrow at you, "There's a goddamn snowstorm outside, woman."

Oh. He was one of those guys. Note taken.

"Anyways" you changed the topic to not provoke a pointless discussion, still unable to keep yourself from rolling your eyes. "Do you at least remember your name?"

The man clutched the ragged costume you had handed him, forcing his exhausted self to remember something, anything at all...

...but every time he tried, there was a sharp pain in his forehead that tore him away from the memories locked away somewhere in his brain.

And smehow, no matter how insane it might sound, he felt like this was his own mind's subtle warning to better keep it this way.

"I think...my name's John" he ultimately stated, rubbing his temples as his face contorted in pain. You continued rubbing circles on his back in an attempt to comfort him, whispering "Hey, don't overdo it. Focus on healing first, and then we'll see if anything else comes back. Alright?"

John nodded mutely, and you gifted him an uplifting smile, cheering "Well then, nice to officially meet you, John! Feel at home as long as you need."

He shook your hand almost symbolically, feeling almost hopeful knowing that despite the grim situation, he was supported by such a kind stranger.

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. I'm all in your hands."

_____

A/N: This was written on my phone at 1am, so please bear with me. The next chapters are gonna be better.

[Part Two]

[nyxianwayfarer]

Corrupted Vamp!Garo Fic Idea?

Happy Hump Day, everyone! I present you all with a half-assed idea that does involve a fair bit of humping and was semi-inspired by this post... 😏

Okay, hear me out now: do you all remember how during one of the events (it might have been Rain Burst or Floral Unfurl; can't remember which... 😅) that we got treated to this tall, dark, and dripping with sin version of Garofano??

Like, are you kidding me?? I'm barking and howling like mad for her over here! 🤤

So let me begin by explaining Garo's history in this AU (SFW Section):

This will mostly be a Garo-centered fic, but I might have The Garden involved in some vague fashion. The ladies within it could be a part of some coven, where Coquelic acts as the leading figure of it as their sire.

Garofano was likely changed when she was far older in life than some of the others, so she wouldn't have the same amount of reckless impulsivity other newborns might. That probably allowed her to move up through The Garden's ranks over the centuries to become a part of Coquelic's inner circle.

Of course, when it comes to vampire covens, there's the usual violent rivalry to go along with them.

Let's say that during a struggle of power, a spellcaster from a rival coven attempted to cast a magical attack against Coquelic—hoping to destroy The Garden by killing its head—but since Garofano's loyalty to her Mentor knows no bounds, she was the one who intercepted the attack instead.

Coquelic is saved, but the toll Garofano takes for her intervention becomes very obvious over several weeks and then months as an obvious corruption of dark magic—tinged with her violet aura—begins to spread across her body.

Canonically, Garofano is one of the more modestly-dressed members of The Garden, which one can argue might be due to her age and mature nature, but for the sake of this AU, I will say that she begins covering herself up more out of necessity. Her corrupted skin is something that unnerves some members of The Garden, especially the ones outside Coquelic's inner circle.

With the growing unease her condition causes, Garofano proposes an arrangement to Coquelic: rather than risk causing a further schism between the regular ranks of The Garden and its powerful inner circle, Garofano will exile herself.

Coquelic is, of course, reluctant to agree to this. Besides being very powerful herself, Garofano is one of the women she trusts most. For Garofano's loyalty to her over the centuries, however, Coquelic offers a compromise: Garofano will be granted her self-imposed exile, but she will be forever bound to guard the very edges of Coquelic's vast territory with no other aid than what Garofano can provide for herself.

Garofano sees the declaration for what it is. Coquelic cannot be seen as weak in front of her underlings—no matter how much she cares for one of them. However, the arrangement is far kinder than Garofano could have hoped for. While she is otherwise alone out there, no one would dare risk entering Coquelic's domain without first risking her wrath, so she is still under her sire's protection in that sense.

So Garofano removes herself from The Garden's vast manor and takes upon her duty as an eternal guard, vigilantly watching the edges of Coquelic's territory.

Over the decades, she builds herself a modest cabin out there, an oasis of sorts when she isn't otherwise occupied with dispatching would-be attackers or planting fields of carnations to mark the perimeter she's been ordered to defend—an obvious sign for outsiders to keep their distance.

How you—the Reader—fits in (still SFW territory):

You are a vampire hunter.

...but you are also an outcast of your own guild. 😅

You were originally brought in as an orphan, one who had been abandoned after your family succumbed to the winter cold. What followed after that had been years of arduous training as a means to earn your keep.

You actually build a successful reputation for yourself by the time you're an adult and going on harder-ranked missions, but although you've always been told of the eternal animosity between your fellow hunters and the monsters you all hunt, you begin to question things following one reconnaissance mission gone wrong...

It should have been easy. All you had to do was follow the orders of your superior—a hunter several decades your senior—who led you both to a small town called Désir, where you would be tasked with killing the vampire who had seemingly enthralled all of its inhabitants.

But as you gathered clues regarding the vampire in question, you find several more regarding the inhabitants of Désir—namely that many of them were elderly or slowly dying due to terminal illness. You further found that the inhabitants were there by choice and that the vampire who founded the town had offered them all a peaceful and dignified end to their suffering, but only if they were ready to take the final step.

You had never heard of a vampire who was so... humane in their approach to taking lives. You tried to bring this information up to your superior, but he sneered at you, wondering if you perhaps had also fallen under the vampire's thrall. Regardless, he was determined to take the vampire down with or without your help, but things became complicated quickly when a child had rushed in to defend the vampire in question, pleading for him to not hurt the nice lady, but the older hunter couldn't be deterred and swung his sword down towards the boy.

Your body was in motion before you knew what you were doing, but it didn't change the fact that your superior was dead and your target was still very much alive.

Needless to say, the leaders of your guild were furious. Rather than simply exile you, given your prowess as a hunter, you were given an otherwise impossible task: go into the territory of one of the most notorious vampire covens in existence and kill as many of them as you can.

It's nothing less than a suicide mission, but it's one that cannot be refused before the eyes of your guild lest you be killed by their hands instead.

And that's more or less how Garofano meets you when you wander into her sire's territory, defeated and questioning everything you've ever known about your purpose in life.

She defeats you summarily but lets you go with your life the first time.

But the thing is, you keep coming back. Where else were you going to go after all? Your guild will never accept you among their ranks again and all other guilds know to turn you away. Garofano's probably the only consistent presence you have through those long, lonely weeks. Yet, each time, she lets you go... until she doesn't.

Garofano, an exile herself—albeit of her own circumstance—probably recognizes a kin spirit when she sees one, and she's been just as lonely too...

So begins an unlikely relationship between a vampire and her hunter.

I should probably mention that by the time I start the fic, you two are already in an established relationship, but I'm gonna go off on a tangent here because we're slowly getting into NSFW territory. That, and I want to explain my concept of corrupted vampire Garo a bit more.

So I don't remember if the game ever went into detail with all that a Corrupted Garofano is capable of from the brief moment we saw her in the event, but there's at least a significant physical difference and a slight distortion of her voice if I recall correctly.

There's also this dark aura around her from the image above, and it looks like she's capable of using that energy to either corrupt her signature weapons or manifest different versions of them from that power. And that energy might have some tangibility to it too if it can hold her needles in the air like that.

The corruption could also grant Garofano seem level of transformative/shapeshifting ability too. I think you all know where I'm going with this if you've checked the hyperlink about Garo at the beginning of this post... 😏

Can you imagine Garofano's mouthful of tentacles? 🤤 Like, she wouldn't even have to use her hands when she goes down on you! She could use two of them to slowly spread you apart while another toys at your clit while she summons an even thicker tentacle to fill you up nice and slow...

And look at her hands in the above image! It looks like she's capable of making them longer/bigger or making them incorporeal because her hand in the lower left doesn't really hold any recognizable shape like a normal hand would. Instead, it looks entirely composed of magical energy!

Seriously, with no one else to really interact with during so many decades on her own, Garofano likely spent the large majority of her time testing her strange powers between her usual duties. So when your relationship turns more sexual, she demonstrates her tricks to you. 😌

You want tentacles? She'll give you plenty to play with.

You want to suck on her many tongues while she shifts bigger fingers to thrust into you with, stretching you deliciously? No problem!

And you might not have the best green thumb when it comes to tending to flowers or crops, but she appreciates it when you help water her garden with your juices... 🤭

Like, imagine that you're kneeling over a plot of soil, planting new seeds there, and Garofano comes up to lean against your back as she envelops her arms around you, preventing you from standing up. Before you know it, she tears open the front of your pants, revealing your pussy to the cool air as she positions you more firmly over the newly-planted seeds.

"Spring is upon us. Will you not help me welcome a flourishing harvest with your essence?" she teases.

And with her shadowy tentacles and fingers, she begins working you over thoroughly.

Some of those tendrils slide under you shirt to tease at your nipples, brushing over them or wrapping around them for a nice pinch or squeeze of pressure. One tentacle flicks slowly back and forth over you clit like a lazy tongue while Garofano fills you with thick fingers, stroking masterfully at your inner walls that has you moaning.

If Garofano weren't holding you up from behind, you likely would have collapsed face first to the ground with all the stimulation, but she's determined to give you the high you seek, the one you keep begging for as she thrusts into you.

Perhaps finally a bit sympathetic to your plight, she uses another tentacle to touch your chin and turn your head towards her, where she practically devours you, wrapping her tongues around yours, muffling your surprised, hungry moan. As distracted as you are, you don't see how the tentacle at your clit shifts in appearance, becoming more hollow and tube-like. When it situates itself around your clit and begins sucking though, you can't help your sudden cry.

It triggers your orgasm immediately, and you clench around Garofano's fingers even as you squirt your juices over the soil, watering them just as she had envisioned. With her fingers still inside you, she keeps stroking, drawing out your climax. Of course, when that inevitably pulls a second orgasm out of your, she just picks you up and lifts you over to the next available soil plot for you to "water."

You're a shivering mess after all of that, but you can't the way your heart skips a beat when she kisses the side of your head and whispers, "Good girl."

And if there's shifting involved, you can bet she's shifting on something nice and hard for you during those moments where she really wants to feel you squeezing around her. 🤤

You're both naked before the fireplace inside her cabin (she has to find some way to keep you warm throughout the colder months after all). You're resting on your back against the bear skin rug while she looms over you. Between her legs is something definitely phallic, but there's life to it in the way it twitches, dripping something translucent at its tip as it hovers over your folds. Enough precum builds up at the head that the droplet falls on top of your clit, leaving you gasping at the sensation.

Smiling, Garofano simply lifts your legs over her shoulders before slowly sinking inside you...

So to all my fellow monster fuckers out there, tell me: would you be interested reading something like this? 😏

[hana-no-seiiki]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐒 + 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐱 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 (𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈)

tw/cw: this act alludes more to reader being amab (because breeder reader era wont be ending anytime soon) so beware. off-screen seggs. worldbuilding and lore stuff. yandere themes, mentions of forced prostitution. misandry.

status: unedited

[ ACT I ] • [ ACT III ]

MOTHERS HELD A HIGH SOCIAL RANK IN YOUR SOCIETY. They were the bearers of children; held with a status akin to gods. As such, those who were able to give birth were favorable.

Not a womb-less being like you.

You spent a couple decades or so in denial. Hoping that one day you’ll be accepted. That maybe society itself would change and you’d have a place in the world.

Only for reality to ruthlessly slap you in the face.

“[Y/N].”

Your mother’s voice, no matter the content of her speech, always made your heart rate soar. Cold sweat appeared on your palms and forehead, but before it could even be discerned on your form your hands make a swift movement to dry yourself. Your could feel your shakiness intensify as she drew closer.

“Yes, mother?” You greeted back. You cursed inwardly as your words came out hoarse; without its usual confidence. You could already hear her admonish you.

How could you be anything less than perfect? After all you were already born a failure. Might as well make up for it by being the best.

Throughout the decades of your parent’s unfavorable treatment, you had gain a semblance of self-esteem. At least enough to give them cheek at times. Although your subconscious always reminded you of what they were capable of if you weren’t engaged.

Your teenage self could never imagine talking back to them. With that, in spite of the unwarranted attention you were somewhat happy with the circumstances you were given.

“You went to the countryside, again.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and tar colored blouse. She always wore black clothes and a solemn look wherever she went, intimidating many that dared to gaze at her direction. Her graying hair was tied into a tight bun. Pointed, cat like eyes behind thick glasses. But she was beautiful. Annoyingly so. The very reason why so many fell at your feet.

“I am here now.”

“Her Highness was looking all over for you.”

“That’s the point. I was hiding from that witch.” You crossed your arms. You did not like that woman at all. You remembered repeatedly enforcing your boundaries and personal space to which she repeatedly broke down and disrespected.

“[Y/N]! Stop being such a brat. Act your age for once. This is a golden opportunity. For you and our whole family!”

“Selling my body wasn’t enough? Your greed really knows no bounds.”

You shut your mouth immediately. You’ve gotten too far, if her heels clacking on the ground wasn’t already an obvious indication her thin, banshee like screech should be.

You expected a slap, maybe even her pulling your hair out once again, perhaps her nails would tear into your skin once more leaving a scar that would make at least some of your clients change their mind. However before she could even get close enough to touch you, her husband pulled her away.

“Estella . . . if you hurt them, her highness might . . .” He held her back.

You used to think you loved him way back then. When he’d halt your mother’s actions and take care of you after you’d been used. But then you realized that he only saw you as an object he could benefit from as well. Once the princess asked for your hand in marriage he was ecstatic. Waxing on and on about how happy it’d make him if you went with her, even allowing her to defile you in your own bedroom at times. The only reason he didn’t actively hurt you was because your mother’s ego was so fragile that she’d take him getting physical as a sign of defiance and ill will.

Swarms of hatred encircled your heart. To think you were so blind and hungry for an ounce of their affection only a year ago.

Hours passed before your tears showed signs of stopping its flow. You hoped the streetslights that barely gave vision at least hid you from prying eyes.

“Witch, huh?”

A voice tore you away from your moment of sadness. In fear of anyone else seeing you in this state you hurry to fix yourself as you heard heeled clicks grow louder.

“I should have known.” You turned your head to face the sounds’ source. Only to see the reason why so many tears of yours were wasted this day. “So, does this mean our engagement is off? Or shall I be executed for sullying your name?”

Third Princess Kalliope Mikiavella Levantine. If her name was a nightmare then her presence in your life was evermore.

She was your highest paying client. Ever insatiable. Ever spoiled by her mother the Empress. The only saving grace of this whole situation was that she was not the Crown Princess, yet. Otherwise you might have already been made an imperial concubine or consort.

“Unfortunately not.” She smiled, a little solemn in a way to empathize with your situation, but nonetheless ruthless knowing her power. The princess was beautiful, her blazing red hair that curled immaculately lightly bounced in her steps towards you. Bright amber eyes that almost appeared like the dim streetlights.

“I am unclean. Impure. Why would you want someone like me?” You keep your eyes to your legs lest you fall for her beauty. You always looked somewhere else whenever you two slept together. Always in fear that you’ll grow to love your assaulter — captor.

“I . . . do not know. But everytime I hear you sing my heart feels at ease. I want you in my life, [Y/N]. For as long as I live.”

“Think of it this way, as my spouse you will be ruling over the entirety of this country. Every thing, every one, will be yours. Even those parents who sold you to me. And you’ll give that kid a bright future—“

“[Y/N] . . ?”

You do not think before your lips crashed upon hers.

“Athanaxious? Athanaxious! “

Vasileious searched high and low, in every corner of the ocean Athanaxious usually dwelled in. He even swam the shores, close to those wicked human hunters called fishermen to find him. But with no luck.

“Let him be, Vasilei. He’ll come back in due time.” Aurelius, the pair’s eldest brother, comforted him. Aurelius had a beautiful tail of pure gold, unlike the flecked one Vasileious and Athanaxious owned. His hair was a beautiful, long and curly brown with a lock of blond that made it all the more stunning. His tan skin glimmered akin to the surface waters at day, and almost glowed at night.

“Say that when you get scolded by Mother. I dare you.” Vasileious spat, nerves fried from stress. He would have never interacted or approached a human if it weren’t for his stupid younger brother. But now he’d seen several. Do you know how horrid that experience would be for him? It was downright terrible.

Aurelius, ever the only serene one in the family, massaged the small of his brother’s pale back, “You seem on edge. More so than usual.”

“Athanaxious was meeting with a human, Aurelius. A human!”

“Huh, so you finally found out.”

“You knew of it?!”

“All of us did.” Aurelius shrugged, slightly curling his tail as a gesture of ease. “Oh come on, we all know how much of a snitch you are. Besides, Athanei can’t be dissuaded. Telling him not to do something will only make him want to do it more.”

“He used his siren song on them.”

“No way! How did he sound?”

“. . . It sounded — “ Vasileious ashamedly could only remember your own voice that day, unable to give a proper remark he gave a simple, vague response. “alright.”

“How utterly anticlimactic. Although you saying something aside from terrible means it must be good.”

“Make of it what you will.”

“Irenaeus!”

Another merman appeared. Younger than Aurelius but his beauty unlike any of the other brothers. His tail a beautiful ivory color that slowly transitioned to grey and blacks at the tip. Long dark hair and golden eyes. Irenaeus was known to have the biggest body count of all siblings — bringing thousands of humans to their doom. If it weren’t for his carefree attitude and the god he was named after, one would think he loathed humans more than Vasileious himself. “The human Athan was meeting . . .”

“What about them?”

“Apparently they are to be married off to a human princess. Sailors across the ocean have been speaking of it so. And. . . well . . . “

“Spit it out.”

Irenaeus looked left and right, his tail flicking in an anxious manner, “I believe Athanaxious might be meeting with the Sea Witch shortly.”

“What? You didn’t stop him?!” Vasileious screeched. The ocean floor that surrounded them tremors in his cries, large waves rippling, barreling towards land. His two brothers flinched in pain.

“Less time scolding more time on looking for our brother.” Aurelius broke him out of his moment of panic. “Irenei, inform the rest of our family. Vasilei, let us depart.”

Deep within the Abyss of the ocean, Athanaxious found himself swarmed with feverish determination and anger. The pressure of the waters always felt suffocating but now? It was nothing to the looming dread that drowned his heart.

He reaches his destination before his mind could properly think. He thought long ago that the last time he’d come would be that, the last. But here he was again, far more desperate than he was afraid.

“Be welcome, Than.” The low, gravelly voice of the sea devil danced across the murky waters.

“You must know of the happenings on land.”

He comes out of his hiding, long winding tentacles slither across the walls covered with barnacles and seaweed, as He moved towards Athanaxious, “Mm, I’m afraid not. Please enlighten me.”

“Tch. My human. They’re going to marry some rich lady up north. This cannot happen.”

“You want me to help you ruin a wedding?”

“You know the drill. A price for a boon. This will be quite expensi—“

“I offer you my voice.”

The Sea Witch found themself speechless for moments on end. For a siren to sell their voice would be akin to dooming themself to a lonely, wretched existence. Unable to lure their prey or be of any ‘worth’ in their society. They were aware of Athanaxious’ infatuation over you. Just not self-sacrificing extent of it. “…And in exchange for your precious voice I offer you a new identity as a human.”

“Beware, as every step you take will feel like daggers going through your feet. You will however, be the most graceful dancer upon the land. A perfect fit for our little singer.” An apparition appears between the Devil’s fingertips as it flicked across the waters. It was you, on a platform of sorts surrounded by other humans. You were bringing joy to their faces, as you did with him. “Shall I add a wager to spice up the fun?”

It took a lot of willpower for Athanaxious to rip his eyes away from your ‘magical form’ and all he could muster was a nod.

“Should you succeed your voice shall return, and you wouldn’t have to keep giving me your scales to brew love potions. Their heart will be yours forever more, guaranteed by both their feelings in your triumph and my very own magic.” The apparition shifted; Athanaxious appears within the image — human. The two of you looked joyful as you embraced underneath what seemed to be the moon.

But then it all lasts for a second before it shifted once more. The vision of your happy ending swiftly turned bitter as this apparition’s Athanaxious slowly dissolved and disappeared, before you turn to someone else and embrace them instead.

“If you fail to win their affection before the wedding, I will keep your voice and you shall turn into sea foam.”

Athanaxious felt his stomach grow weak at the illusion’s show. Moreso the possibility of your romance with someone else than his death. He only had one choice.

“I understand. I accept both the deal and the wager.”

“Oh, how magnificent! I hope you don’t go on to regret this.” The Sea Devil lips tugged upwards.

“Now, sing for me.”

“Where will you be going?” Kalliope tugged at your sleeves.

“Out. I’ll be back before sundown.” You gently pulled your arm away from your admirer, as you buttoned your clothes and put on a pair of trousers.

“But—“

“My seed must take root for our marriage to be guaranteed, no? Keep your hips raised.”

“Can we go for another bout before you leave?”

You loop your finger around a lock of her hair, lending her a final kiss to the forehead. “No.”

Your town was not one to write about in history books. It was like any other the Empress was able to conquer under her rule. A quaint village just west of the capital city known for their great alcohol and folks to bed.

In such a small population, everyone knew you and you knew everyone. People even knew of your clients, every single one in fact. They weren’t surprised to see you in much more extravagant or expensive clothing as you passed by the street in an equally gaudy carriage.

It was moreso the armored guards that surrounded you that alerted them of something different.

“[Y/N]!”

Clearly that wasn’t enough to deter your childhood friend from running towards you.

“First you impregnate my sister and leave her all alone to take care of your mistake, now you go and get married without a word to us! Do you even care at all?!” The young man wore overalls. Soot covered his skin from what you assume was the mines he started recently working in.

Yiorgos used to be a lot kinder. Softer. Almost puppy like with his admiration towards you. But after a series of misunderstandings he grew resentful of your existence. You never bothered to correct him.

Or perhaps you were just too busy and hurt by his assumptions.

“Out of their highness’s way.” A guard put their arm between you and your former friend.

“Their . . . highness ?” Yiorgos looked at you, baffled. His hung wide open. He then leaned forward to no doubt shout at you once more before you finally put a word in.

“No, I know him.” You shook your head at the guard. Your focus left the man as soon as a familiar mop of [hair color] entered your vision.

A small girl dressed in clothing akin to your own, left Yiorgos’s side and ran up to you with no regard to the armored knight that loomed over. Excitement clear in her eyes. “Don’t listen to your uncle, you aren’t a mistake alright? Go on in, I’ll be with you.” You gently pushed her towards the siblings’ house. The girl shook her head, unwilling to let go of you. But her grip slowly loosened and she eventually shied away, leaving you and the rest.

“Your sister paid me to sleep with her and insisted not to use protection, we both know I pay for that night every single day since it happened both reputation wise and monetarily. And lastly, as you can see I had no choice.” You tilt you head to the small army of knights made to watch over you and your carriage.

Yiorgos shook his head. Brown hair swaying side to side. “You always have a choice.”

“And my choices are life and death. Don’t bother arguing about my situation!”

“Here’s my last payment and goodbye. I’ll be taking the kid with me to the castle soon.” You throw him a bag filled with gold coins and then proceeded to make your leave.

If there was anything you were proud of in your town however, it would be the opera house you worked at. Thousands of people all throughout the world often came here to watch your shows amongst the other singers and performers.

Due to its popularity it was even funded by the Empress directly. That is how you met the princess.

“[Y/N]! I’ve heard the news. Congratulations.” Your employer, Lady Anastasia — a noble woman —, runs her hand in your hair. She used to be a regular person your mother sold you off to until she eventually hired you as a singer at her Opera House. Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t pay you a little extra for your services after hours.

“What’s with the fuss?” You gestured to the boy servants fussing over a young man. Who seemed a little too familiar, nostalgic maybe. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Oh, we found a young man out on the beach you frequented. We thought it was you at first but upon closer inspection . . .”

“He’s a mute that one. Ain’t no further thing from our theater’s star.” Her Father, a rather old and gruff man, huffed. He was always so prideful of you. Despite his rough demeanor, you knew that he cared deeply. After Anastasia would bed you, he always came by to give you a cup of tea. You didn’t know how to repay the man except use your body, so he’s had a taste of you as well.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve bedded half of your town and then some.

“Will you keep your scathing remarks to yourself?” Anastasia lightly slapped him, “He is incredibly talented on the art of dance, light on his feet.”

“And weak on constitution. He barely finished a piece before falling to his knees and panting!”

“I’ll take care of him.” You put a hand to your chin. The man gave you a weird feeling in your stomach. Something tells you that the fates have your threads intertwined.

“Are you sure? With all these wedding preparations. . .” The old man grabbed your shoulders, making you flinch.

You unknowingly glared at him.

���Ah, sorry to be so presumptuous.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

You coughed, unsure how to or if you should even apologize. You decide on focusing at the task at hand. A final show before you’re eternally doomed to the Imperial Palace.

“Well then, why is nobody ready?”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

[marlynnofmany]

Cave Space

The mechanic’s shop was the loudest and dirtiest place I’d seen on this space station so far, and somehow that was comforting. All the ritzy retail stores and elaborate restaurants tried to look as fancy as possible, even the cheap ones. But this place felt honest and straightforward. It had bare concrete floors and the kind of shelf displays that didn’t bother with signs to actually explain what you were looking at. A real mechanic would know.

I had no idea, but I was just here to help haul things. Blip and Blop might have been a better choice if the things in question proved to be heavy, but they were off wrangling jumbo tubs of food and medical supplies with Eggskin, and anyways we had the big hoversled this time. It would probably be fine.

Mimi was talking fast with an employee about manifolds and vents and lots of other words, waving a couple green tentacles while he stood on the rest. The employee was the biggest Heatseeker I could remember seeing, which was still only mid-rib-height on me. He reminded me of the short gym guys from back home, able to build muscle in every direction but up.

A box thumped onto a counter near me. “You here to help lift and pull?”

I found an older human woman grinning at me, wearing a tank top covered in grease and long white hair held back in a ponytail. Also the kind of arm muscle that said she yanked engines out of spaceships for fun.

“Something like that,” I said with a smile. “Gotta make sure nothing falls off the sled.”

She waved a hand. “Ah, we’ll strap it down for you. There’s enough ramps around here to cause problems if we don’t.”

“I bet,” I said, thinking back to the last time I’d chased something important down a hill. “Don’t want to risk any explosions or chemical spills.”

“Or slamming a gear shaft into the side of a building,” she agreed. “There was a bit of a mess the last time someone was sure they didn’t need their stuff tied down.”

I winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, it’s standard procedure now,” she said, opening the box to pull out multiple smaller boxes, all labeled with arcane terminology and numbers. They rattled as she stocked them on the shelf under the counter. “If they’d asked me, it would have been standard from the start, but what do I know? I’ve only been doing this kind of work for decades, on more planets than I care to count.”

“Sounds exciting,” I said as she finished stocking. “I haven’t been out here all that long by comparison, but there’s always something new to see.” A glance around the shop took in rows of alien technology, a Heatseeker with scales painted silver, and one of those centipede-like people whose species name I didn’t remember. I was pretty sure they were looking at a jetpack display.

“Oh sure, plenty of weirdos out here,” the woman said easily, ripping tape off the box and flattening it. “Though it’s easy to tip over from marveling at the wonders to feeling the kind of intense homesickness that you get when you’re light years away from home.”

“I suppose so.” I’d been pretty lucky on that front, since my alien coworkers were friendly sorts who made me feel welcome. But there were times when the sheer amount of empty space between me and Earth was a little too much to think about.

“You’ve got to find ways to remind yourself of where you come from, and take pride in it,” the older woman said with a pointed finger, like a grandparent giving career advice. “Recreate bits of home while you’re far from it.”

I thought back to the potted plants and sun lamp in my quarters, kept high enough that the cat couldn’t chew on them. “I like to think I do that,” I said. “Do you have a preferred method? Classic Earth songs, googly eyes stuck in funny places?”

She barked a laugh. “Ha! Nothing I’d admit to. But I’ll show you my current favorite touchstone to humanity.” She dug in a pocket.

I stepped closer, curious, as she pulled out something palm-sized. She rested her elbows on the counter and held it up, framed by splayed fingers with appropriate drama.

It was a rock, smooth and shiny like it had been polished by a river and then by a thick layer of varnish, and it was covered in minuscule handprints. All in earthtones, like a cave painting reduced to pocket size: some in silhouettes like tiny hands had pressed mud or ash against the cave wall, and others shadowed by color like the prehistoric artist had chewed charcoal and spat it carefully around their fingers.

(I’d done that in school one day, with one of the cool teachers, who taught us the basics of humanity’s oldest style of airbrushing. It was incredibly messy and trickier than I’d expected. It gave me renewed respect for the artists from eons ago whose artwork had survived into modern times.)

And this was that same thing, made small enough to carry around the galaxy, a tiny reminder of home. “That’s fantastic,” I breathed.

“Isn’t it?” she asked, rubbing at the shine. “I got it from a traveling artist awhile back. If I was in a different line of work, I’d sell clothes with this pattern on them. It’s the kind of thing that makes other Earthlings smile.” She stood up and put it back in her pocket with a wink. “Not like googly eyes, but still good.”

“Yes, still good!” I agreed, smiling. I would have liked to talk more about it, maybe find out where that traveling artist had gone, but Mimi was wrapping up his conversation. A door opened to admit a trio of Heatseekers carrying a huge cylinder that was probably destined for somewhere in the guts of our ship.

“I’ll get the tie-down straps,” said the woman, rummaging under a different section of counter.

“Thanks,” I said, though I don’t think she heard me. The air was full of talk and the sound of clawed feet on concrete. I hurried to take up a position by the controls of the hoversled, making sure it stayed locked in place.

The team worked quickly, and in no time they had it strapped down well enough that it wouldn’t budge even if the gravity cut out completely. (Which had better not happen; I’d had more than enough of that kind of nonsense at the last station.)

Mimi processed the payment, tapping a screen with one tentacle tip and thanking the employees for having this whatsit in stock. I got the impression that it wasn’t the one he’d actually come to get, but it was better in some way or other.

“Thanks again!” I said as we tugged the sled toward the door. I waved at the other human and she waved back, two hands signaling kinship briefly across the room. Then she took her flattened box into the back and I stepped out into the artificial sunlight, looking for signs leading back to the spaceport.

The gravity behaved, and the ramps were no trouble. Blip and Blop were there to help unload the thing. I asked Mimi if he wanted three people to maneuver it into wherever it went, or if I should go put the hoversled away.

He was busy climbing inside of the cylinder with a flashlight, for whatever reason. “Nah, not enough space for everybody,” his gravelly voice echoed. “Let me just — really? Another one?” A faint squeak sounded like he was rubbing a tentacle against the side.

“What is it?” I asked, bending to look inside. Blip and Blop crowded behind me, a jumble of curious muscles and silks.

Mimi grumbled, “This is the third engine part that I’ve gotten with these annoying marks. All from different sources, too. If I ever find out which finger-having species is doing it, we are going to have words.”

Deep inside the cylinder, in a spot that likely would never have been seen by anyone but an agile mechanic, was a patch of handprints. Mimi had already smeared the ones made in grease, but the others looked like they might have been paint. All in earthtones. A cave painting in the depths of a spaceship.

Blip and Blop chorused, “Not it.”

I bit my lip to hide a smile. “It’s a mystery.”

~~~

Inspired by this excellent artwork by @letmeinimafairy! It deserved at least one story, if not several.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

The Evolution of Passion: Culmination

Decided on a more meaningful steep for this one. Phoenix Rising . calendula, wild cherry bark, green tea, rooibos, rosehips and orange peel.

I got an ask (truncated) from danmeiljie " thoughts about what happens in the woods in act 1, and how he initiates with his partner in the graveyard in act 3, But i was curious if you made any connections to his emotional journey and how that's reflected in these different sex scenes and his role in them."

This is my opinion analysis of the graveyard scene. This one might trigger some people. Please read with caution.

WARNING: Game Spoilers, Topics of Sex, Abuse, and Adult themes/Language. Not underage appropriate.

This is not fact, just opinion based off my own and game experience. As always, how anybody cannons their relationships or behaviors is perfectly right! No blame, no shame, it's your game.!

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

Raise your hand if you died here. And I don't mean just a "little death".

Gods, the level of impact this confession had was intense given his avoidant nature throughout the game. I equate it to that moment when someone says their pet doesn't like anybody and they decide to sit in YOUR lap. Those moments are pure wild magic. And so was this one.

Taking Tav to the graveyard is another planned move. But not to manipulate them. And, in my opinion, not to seduce them either.

Thanks to Tav's help, he is finally free of Cazador, but he wants them to bear witness as he frees himself from one more captor.

"Maybe, but he did take it. There's almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. For nearly two centuries I stalked the streets like a ghost. While the person I was lay here, dead and buried."

Astarion's first victim was someone he never really forgave himself for unwittingly handing over to Cazador to be consumed. Himself.

To me, his grave is a symbolic reference of who he thought he should have / could have been still buried deep within his subconscious. A person he barely remembered, but still grieved for. Lost and decayed under centuries of abuse. Decades of being whatever Cazador said he was. Sad, pathetic, little, owned, nothing. Hollowing him out into the ghost he felt he became.

Some of the worst prisons and punishment's you can imagine, exist within our own minds. The wardens are the echo's of others belief system. The whips are others' opinions of you. The bars are your own acceptance of it.

"I can't be what you want to see in me."

And what a relatable and lamentable ponderance for a lot of us. Who would we be without various trauma painting our minds and bodies in ways that distort our own view of ourselves?

Would we be more social? More trusting? More loving? More loved? More worthy of our own consideration? More successful? More satisfied? More... alive?

" This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again."

It is a very rare thing to find someone who is willing to walk alongside you during your "Frankenstein" phase of healing. The chaotic mess of putting yourself back together and figuring out how to function in the new arrangement. The emotional scars slowing our motion. The rage fevers , the imposter syndrome infections, the weeping wounds that bleed on those who didn't cause them, the pain that drives us into a self induced isolations.

"Iv always been alone. I don't see why that would change now."

*frowns into cup with deep understanding.*

But for Astarion, Tav came along.

Understanding that when he growled and snapped it was because he was scared. So they were patient.

Understanding that he craved companionship, but was untrusting of it. But they cared anyway.

Understanding that his vampiric nature didn't make him inherently bad. So they trusted him. Objectively stupid as that was.

Understanding that his need to feel powerful and in control of everything was a grasp at never wanting to feel helpless again. So they helped him feel safe.

Understanding that he couldn't see the good in himself through his blinded eyes. So they offered what they saw of him.

"You saw something in me. Someone else I could be."

What is that? If not love.

It is said that we don't actually fall in love with people. We fall in love with who we become within the love they give us. What he wants is not just Tav on the physical level, but to continue feeling alive within the safety of their love for him.

Accepting that he has always been more than what others made him to be, he now has the strength to not only say goodbye to the idea of who he should have been, but also lay to rest the person he created to survive. Giving honor and forgiveness' to that persona, and making way for the birth of the person he wants to become.

The Star of Bethlehem flower (Ornithogalum umbellatum) symbolizes purity, innocence, honesty, hope, and forgiveness. 

HE gets to choose who he becomes going forward. What was done can not be undone, but he can choose what to do with it. What meaning the sacrifice will have. What the knowledge of it does to him. It has always been in his power to transmute that poisonous experience into something different, something powerful. To rise from the proverbial ashes to be born again. He just needed someone to remind him of that fact.

Consider yourself reminded as well dear reader..

This included reclaiming and repurposing his view and use of desire. Thus his proposition.

"with everything that life has to offer."

If you boil it all down to its base essence, sex is an act of life. Not only intended to create life, but also used to heal and offer connection. When used properly, of course. This has been quite lost in modern times. And this reason, to me, is why most SA survivors never fully walk away from sex. The desire for that intended connection is still there. So his seemingly misplaced flirt of "If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded," actually does make sense here.

He is being cheeky, as he is known to be, but he also wants Tav to know that he trusts them and feels good about them desiring him as well. "I could be persuaded" mirrors Tav's "You don't have me yet." line the first night you are together. Its meant to be a bratty but fun flirt. Very "Oh, I would love a night of passion, but do give me all the reasons why you desire me. No seriously, tell me what you love about me. Wait, maybe you should write it all down."

Also, with Cazador stabbed, eviscerated, beheaded, shit on, burnt, and yeeted off the ledge into the abyss, he is safe to desire Tav now. Sex with him no longer equates to a death sentence.

Unlike the first night in the woods, or the second night at the grove party, Astarion and Tav have developed real intimacy (into me see) between each other. There is no need for power plays and theatrics here. No need to be half naked, using his body as a tool of seduction. No need to be grandiose using pick up lines to entice.

Instead he is fully clothed and mirroring Tav in a kneeling position. Symbolizing their equality in this moment. A very humble " I want all that you are." on his lips.

If I had to categorize MY Astarion into a sexual subtype. I see him as Pan: demisexual. The bond he feels with Tav is strong and for a demi, that is very seductive. You love him too and that makes him feel safe, seen and...well...

Aww..that's so sweet. But, why does he push Tav down?

There are various possibilities for this. If Tav rode him to the ground in the woods, it could be a turn about is fair play move. I mean, very fair if you ask me.

Or, it could be a loud and clear demonstration of him proving he is the master of his own desires now. Its straight forward dominant behavior. No games, no posturing. He pushes Tav back as if impatient to have them submit to him. Crawling up their body, caging them in with his arms and giving them full on, raw, naked, unadulterated eye contact. Claiming their mouth eagerly with is own. Spreading them open to him with his knee. Declaring that they are his and he is in want.

His first blood, first love, and first time in his new life.

Mercy...

It was Tav who wanted to wake up next to a handsome virgin every morning. Right? *wink*

Happy chosen birthday my beloved elf.

Now, for you dear reader.

One thing I want you to remember when you start feeling sad or hopeless that Astarion is not real. That there is no Tav out there for you, remember that you are Tav. You loved this damaged mess in all his undead glory. Which means you have the capacity and ability to give that effort, kindness, love and patience to yourself as well. Not having someone does not mean you are unlovable or unworthy. It just means its not time yet. You may still still have quests to complete and dragons to slay. Or maybe you are the dragon? Hoarding riches and eating idiots who venture too far into your domain. Either way, its all part of being alive. Neither good nor bad, until you deem it such. Chose joy when you can.

[musingsofahufflepuff]

Hold Me Close

11th Doctor x gn!reader; fluff

summary: it’s been a long–however long it’s been–and now the Doctor just needs some rest. maybe some comfort is needed too

a/n: took me over a decade to finally watch this show and now I’ve gone and fallen head over heels for Matt Smith. here’s a lil sleepy imagine for ya, sorry if he’s a bit ooc—I just want some fluff. set at no specific point ♡

His skin was warm and soft under your fingertips. Your eyes flicker from his peaceful resting expression to your hand caressing his cheek. He never looks this calm while awake. The childlike glee that surrounded him like a radiant aura was there, but just behind it was something, well, it was hard to describe. Like seeing something move in your peripheral vision or catching a familiar scent from your childhood, for a split second it was there and the next—gone.

With a small sigh, you push the thought from your head. You had just gotten back from running for your lives yet again and the thoughts swarming and circling in your mind were starting to give you a headache. And truth be told, you worried about him. Sure, he was over 900 years old and had experienced so much but-

The Doctor almost seemed to sense your stress and rolled over a bit, shifting onto his back almost an invitation for you to rest your head upon his chest. And who were you to deny such an invitation?

Careful not to jostle him, you scoot closer and lower your head against him. The sound of his two hearts beating and his scent are oddly comforting, drawing you further into him. Before you’re consciously aware of it, you’re burying yourself in him; arms come up to wrap around his torso completely of their own accord. On what can only be described as reflex, arms are returning the motion and suddenly you’re locked against the man you’ve been wanting for so long.

A sound of contentment perhaps? rumbles out of his chest, firing up a wave a butterflies in your stomach. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, willing the feeling to go away or at least settle down. But it doesn’t. You feel hot where his arms hold you and, you suppose, so does everywhere else he’s touching.

It takes several minutes, but your body finally manages to calm back down. The fluttery feeling isn’t completely gone, but gets quickly replaced with a jolt of panic when the doctor shifts under you.

You maneuver your head in his grip to look up at his face and your panic is justified by the fact that he seems to be waking up. Squirming in a futile attempt to release yourself from his grasp only makes it worse as his hold tightens.

“What are you trying to get away for?” His eyes are still closed, voice laced with a hint of exhaustion but still matter of fact as always.

The silence pierces the air and lingers for a few moments before his eyes blearily blink open.

You’ve turned your head away but you can feel his gaze on you, blush rising on your cheeks. “Uh, no reason.”

“You can go if you’d like, but” he hesitates and you wonder if it’s because he’s somehow unsure of himself.

“Do you want me to stay Doctor?” Try as you might, your voice trembles slightly at the fear of him suddenly rejecting you.

His grip never falters but his tone drops, “please,” it reminds you of the tone he had when he told you he was the last of his kind, wandering the whole of time and space. You remember the look on his face— how could you ever forget— a man who, whether he’d admit it aloud or not, desperately needed comfort.

“I’m not going anywhere,” your tone is hushed to match his, arms finding their way back around him. You feel lips press onto the top of your head and releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you sink back down into his embrace.

[chronicsymptomsyndrome]

pro tip for starting therapy which can be so very intimidating

(I can’t remember where I heard it and I’m not a pro in any sense but it’s too good not to pass along)

sometimes as a starting point they ask you your reason for starting as if you’ll say “well doc I am sad” or some citing incident, but I think it’s way more common to have a long list of reasons that have been subtly feeding into each other and building up for years or even decades, until they reached a breaking point.

So if thats relatable and you don’t know where to start or are having a hard time prioritizing what to talk about first — start with basic survival needs;

Do you drink enough water? Do you get a good amount of sleep and at least moderate exercise?

Are you consistently eating well or do you sometimes forget to eat? do you eat mostly heavily processed foods because its all you have reasonable access to? do you tend to neglect certain food groups?

Do you feel generally safe and comfortable in your living space? Is it reasonably clean and functional? Do you feel at home there?

Don’t forget community is also a survival need, do you have supportive people in your life that you love and trust, that you can confide in openly? Do you self-isolate because you hate socializing? or have a really hard time making/keeping friends, or feeling connected to others in general? Are you constantly fighting with people you’re close to? And finally, since you yourself are a vital member of your own personal community…how do you feel about alone time?

I know a lot of this might sound like trivial day-to-day stuff but

it’s all sosososo important and needs addressed, and a big part of healing/improving is becoming very comfortable and familiar with recognizing and addressing this kind of stuff, so that you can become an expert in exactly what self care means for you personally

please trust me when I tell you that while I was starting out, I was floored by how quickly the smallest most seemingly-meaningless things can trace back to the deepest heaviest childhood crap. Seriously, you could start with the stupidest most embarrassingly-trivial thing you’ve ever gotten upset about…a color you cant stand…a hangnail thats bothering you…any physical pain or discomfort at all…something your crush said to your best friend in seventh grade…the frustration or overwhelm of not knowing where to start...these all great examples! Take some of the pressure off yourself bc there really is no right or wrong here! The fact that you’re even considering starting at all is like the biggest victory of all time!!!

[theapexastrologer]

Dating a Taurus?

Want to know what dating a Taurus is really like?

Taureans are most known for their love of food, sensuality, routines, and stubbornness, but I'm going to let you in on four major insights to help you better understand what makes your Taurus partner tick.

Insight #1 -- Taureans are emotionally grounded.

Your Taurus partner belongs to THE most emotionally grounded sign out of the zodiac and I need for you to remember this, because this is the foundation of your Taurus.

I want you to think of them as if they were the tectonic plates of the earth-- unmoving, fixed, and stationary. It literally takes a huge amount of force to move the tectonic plates of the earth suddenly. Welp, the same goes for your Taurus partner-- it takes a lot of friction to get your Taurus to budge. Otherwise, you just need to give them time. Lots of fucking time.

When giving your Taurus partner time, it's more about gentle, subtle shifts. Think about water carving its way through a canyon over decades and centuries. Small little tweaks here and there, slowly eroding your Taurus' walls and carving out a permanent spot in their life.

It's about showing them consistent effort and responses that will allow your Taurus to feel safe with you-- they love that. Remember that canyons and river beds were created through continuous, consistent water flow and in this case, that water is your love and affection. 💕🙏🏽 Once you've made your mark, good or bad, it doesn't easily go away. The deeper the mark, the more permanently you remain in their memory or life.

Insight #2 -- Respect your Taurus' rhythm & pace.

This might be the hardest aspect to deal with when it comes to your Taurus, but lawd. Honey chile, they move at their own pace and that's something you're going to have to respect. They're going to be completely unfazed by whatever you've got going on unless they deem it worthy of their care, time, energy, or resources. Everything else is trivial.

My late paternal uncle was a Taurus and there were two things you could always count on with him. Every day he would go out to eat at the local diner down the street and flirt with the ladies that worked there and his night time routine consisted of taking out his false teeth, then enjoying a cup of chocolate pudding, brushing his two remaining teeth, which we always joked about, and heading to bed.

Regardless of the routine aspect, Taureans also grow and accomplish things in their own time. It's slow, but consistent. They're also like a river carving out a canyon. Their effort is little-by-little, step-by-step, and one foot in front of the other. They're the epitome of "improving by 1% every single day". They're like the Knight of Pentacles in the tarot or an elephant marching across the savannah, slowly plodding towards their destination.

Insight #3-- A Taurus' affections grow over time.

A Taurus' affections grow over time, a very long time, and the reason is because they fall hella fucking hard. They value their time and effort, so they'll take their time in deliberating if you're worth it. They evaluate what you bring to their life against a life without you or even against another potential partner. But once they make the decision to commit to you, do not take that shit lightly-- they're committed and in it for the long haul. Do not rush them on this decision. If you do, you will more than likely make them uncomfortable and push them away. You end up devaluing yourself in their eyes and shooting yourself in the foot at the same time.

If your Taurus is taking a long time to commit to you, you'll more than likely need to increase your value to them. Now, I know that I'll more than likely get a ton of push back from certain communities about this, especially as a woman. There are ton of ideologies pushed into the female community about how a woman is "supposed to do things" in a relationship that I just do not agree with, like the ideas of "you don't have to change yourself for a relationship" or "you don't have to bring anything to the table/relationship". No, I don't fuck with that. You should always want to contribute to the relationship and want to bring something to it. You're meant to grow through a relationship and improve upon who you are. I'm not saying to abandon yourself, but become the best fucking version of yourself possible.

It took me two years, almost two and a half years really, to lockdown my Taurus rising boyfriend into full on commitment. And over those two years, I was consistently increasing my value to him by improving who I was as a person. I worked on my mental-emotional triggers and responses, my business, my body, and many other things along the way. I increased my value so heavily that he can no longer imagine life without me and is putting in the work to bring us up to our next level along side of me. It's incredible and the amount of growth I'm able to create within myself and my life. He even told my daughter, my eldest, that it's the number one reason he admires and loves me when she asked why he loves me.

But once you lockdown a Taurus, they're fixated on you for the long run and that leads me to my fourth and final major insight when it comes to dating a Taurus.

Insight #4-- Taureans are possessive and territorial.

Remember how I said that Taureans take a long time to make a decision about committing to a partner? Well, I mean it when I said that they do not make that decision lightly. They know just how intensely and deeply they can love their partner. They're in it for the fucking long haul. They're usually not looking for something that'll end in a year or two. No, no, no. Nor these Taurus babies. They want something that's going to last.

When they set their eyes on you, they literally fixate and see no one else. They're like a horse with blinders on. They'll want you all to themselves and nobody else. I can't even lie to you about how intense this fixation is.

To share an extreme version of this, I had a friend that was dating a guy when we were in early high school and he was a Taurus, I'm not going to go into the details, but that breakup was so hard on my friend and it was no laughing matter. She had to change phone numbers and her family had to file a restraining order.

If you're not ready for this kind of commitment, leave that Taurus alone. Do not waste their time. When you commit to a Taurus, expect to stay committed or, even better, go into dating a Taurus with the intention to be in it for the long haul and if you get your cards right, in it for life.

[bloodibambiidoll]

Masterlist

All works are 18+ minors and blank blogs will be blocked!!

Steddie:

The Pull - Steddie x Succubus!Reader masterlist (complete)

You’ve been alone for as long as you can remember, floating around for decades and moving from place to place, never letting anyone close. But that all changes when you decide to move to Hawkins Indiana. You were expecting a quiet life in a small town, but that all changed when you arrived and immediately sensed them.

All You Have To Do Is Ask - Steddie x Reader

Ever since your boyfriend Steve found out that you lost your virginity to your friend Eddie he can’t stop thinking about the two of you together, the fantasies of you and Eddie tangled together running through his mind on repeat. It starts off with just the two of you but when the fantasies start to evolve and Eddie is touching him too, he doesn’t know how much longer he can take it.

Steve Harrington:

American Idiot - King!Steve x GothFem!Reader

Steve Harrington had it all. Money, popularity, the perfect girlfriend. He had his whole life planned and laid out for him, and he accepted that. Working for his dad and marrying his collage sweetheart wouldn’t be so bad, right? That’s what he thought at least, until he got paired to do a project with you and you turned his world upside down.

Jones and Leia - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

You agree to match Steve’s Indiana Jones costume, but it’s definitely not what he was expecting.

Opposites Attract Masterlist - y2k!Steve Harrington x MallGoth!Reader (ongoing)

This is a series of one shots/blurbs about Steve and his goth girlfriend in the early 00s. This AU is a collaboration with @reidsbtch you can find the masterlist for her y2k!Eddie x Girli!Reader Here.

Spider Lilly (part 1) - Steve Harrington x Goth!Fem!Reader

You can’t stand Steve Harrington, you didn’t like him in highschool during his “King Steve” days and you don’t like him now. But even though you deny it, even to yourself, there’s always been something about him that made your heart beat speed up. When you’re stuck closing with him one night at Family Video… things finally boil over. (Soulmate AU)

Eddie Munson:

See You Again - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader x Fem!OC

Your girlfriend surprises you with tickets to see your favorite band, Corroded Coffin for your birthday. You and her spent one magical night with the lead singer over a year ago before they made it big. Will he remember you? (He definitely will.)

Beer and Bunny’s - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Eddie can’t seem to get himself to make a move on the new bartender at the hideout he has a crush on, but one night you decide to take matters into your own hands and he sees something that he just can’t resist.

Being Weird Is Cool Masterlist - SingleDad!Eddie x SingleMom!Reader (Ongoing)

When your late aunt leaves you her house in Hawkins you see it as a chance at fresh start and move there with your son. You didn’t expect to meet a caring metal head with kind eyes and his spitfire daughter. You didn’t expect to fall in love. You didn’t expect to find a family.

Cat and Mouse - Perv!Eddie x Perv!FemReader

Eddie thinks you are innocent and oblivious to all the pervy things he does behind your back, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re fully aware. Not only that, but you like it, and you just might be a bit of a perv yourself.

You’ll Never Be A Burden - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

When you can’t get out of bed, answer your phone, or shake the feeling of hopelessness your boyfriend is there to reassure you that he will always be there for you no matter what.

Best Mates - FuckBoy!Alpha!Eddie Munson x Bestfriend!Omega!Reader

You’ve always been in love with your bestfriend, you never thought anything would ever come of it until you present as an omega and he spends your heat with you.

Licking his boots (blurb)

Halloween moodboard masterlist

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 2

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister, reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, verbal arguing, swearing, medical misinformation (I did my best y'all), pregnancy

Sharp Memorial Hospital, 12 Years Ago

“Buttercup!”

She gasped as the curtain to her room was drawn back quickly, revealing a stressed-out looking lieutenant and a sheepish looking older brother.

“Jake! I’m okay, I swear…”

“You passed out!” Jake exclaimed, rounding the hospital bed to stand by her side. “And they called Bob?”

She sighed, her fingers tapping anxiously at the tape securing the IV to her arm. “I’ve been here for, like, four months, babe. And it all happened kinda quickly, so I haven’t exactly had a chance to change my emergency contact yet.”

Jake reached out to grip her hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Do me a favour and at least add me to that list? I almost had a fucking heart attack when I landed, and Bob told me that you were in the damn hospital.”

Bob pushed his glasses up his nose as she turned her attention to him. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered. “Are you okay, Buttercup?”

She grinned at the begrudging use of the nickname. Ever since Jake had bestowed it upon her that night, it was like her real name ceased to exist. Everyone called her Buttercup, despite Bob’s best efforts.

“I’m fine, you two worrywarts,” she rolled her eyes fondly as Bob scoffed and Jake squeezed her hand more firmly. “I got a little lightheaded at the bar and turned a little too quickly on my barstool. I was only out for like a second, but Penny wouldn’t let it go. Something about Mav being overprotective of his squad or something. She’s somewhere out there—” she motioned vaguely out the curtained doorway. “—filling out paperwork.”

“What were you doing at the bar?” Jake seated himself on the edge of her bed, green eyes turning stern. “You promised me that you were going to take it easy today, remember? I didn’t drag your ass to the doctor yesterday because you said you were “almost over this stupid flu”, and I only agreed because you promised you’d do jack shit today.”

Buttercup pouted at him, crossing her arms as best she could with one arm hosting the IV and Jake not releasing her hand. “I got bored,” she mumbled. “Plus, I thought the quick walk in the sun and fresh air would do me good!”

Jake groaned. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear to god. Next time, at least call someone to go with you.”

“Sure, Jake. I’m sure the Navy will understand you needing to take your girlfriend on a walk,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”

“Clearly,” Jake shot back, gesturing around the curtained-off room.

“Alright, easy, you two,” Bob sighed, stepping further into the room. “Seresin, you can’t expect her to wait around for us to do stuff. What do you expect her to do when we get deployed?” Jake’s face fell for a split second before smoothing out into that unflappable mask he had mastered long ago. “And kiddo? Bagman might not show it ever, but he is a human being, which means he can be scared, and I’m pretty sure the news that you landed yourself here scared a decade off him. So, go easy on him, will you?”

She looked at her brother for a moment before sighing, nodding slightly, and turning back to Jake. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be more careful.”

He squeezed it back, lifting their linked hands to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I’m sorry too. I’m not tryin’ to be controlling, I just…I don’t wanna see you hurt.”

Bob huffed and took a step back. “I’m going to go find Penny and see if she needs help with that paperwork.”

“Thanks Bobby,” she smiled softly at him. He winked playfully at her before turning his back and strolling out of the room, tugging the curtain closed behind him.

“What has the doctor said?” Jake brushed his hand over her cheek, tugging her attention back to him. “Any more dizzy spells? Do you need anything?”

“Easy, tiger, one question at a time. The doctor said I was pretty dehydrated from all the vomiting I’ve done over the past couple of days, and that was what probably caused the blackout. But he had a nurse draw some blood and they’re testing to see if it could be anything else.” She rubbed his arm reassuringly. “I’m a little dizzy still, but the fluids are helping. And I’m still pretty nauseated but they don’t want to give me anything until they get the test results back.” Jake nodded, his jaw ticking just once as his eyes raked over her face. “I’m okay, Jake. I promise.”

Buttercup kept up the soft pressure of her hand running up and down his arm until the mask he wore slipped and he sighed deeply. “I’m sorry I was a dick. I just want you to feel better.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry I got snippy.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to apologize. You’re the one in the hospital bed.” His thumb gently rubbed back and forth along the back of her hand. “God, I hate fighting with you though.”

A slow grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Me too. Especially when I’m stuck in this bed and we can’t make up properly.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he leaned in closer. “Don’t tempt me.”

Peals of laughter tumbled from her lips as she angled her head to brush her nose against his. “I don’t suppose a kiss would tide you over, Lieutenant Insatiable?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, darlin’. We’d have to try it out.”

Jake’s lips chased hers as he leaned over her, pushing her back against the flimsy mattress with the force of his kiss. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth, and she felt a bolt of electricity spark through her body when his mouth stretched into a smile against hers. He linked their fingers together as she deepened the kiss, his free hand coming around to cradle the back of her neck.

“Alright, Miss Floyd, why don’t we go over those test results?”

Jake pulled away as a doctor clad in purple scrubs hustled into the room, her hands rubbing together as the scent of sanitizer wafted over them.

“Hey, doctor. Sorry, we didn’t meet earlier. Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” Jake greeted, his mask sliding back into place as he stretched one arm out to shake her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. And it’s nice to meet you as well, Miss Floyd. I’m Dr. Friedman and I’ll be taking over your case,” the woman greeted, shaking his hand before turning to fiddle with some equipment. “I hope you don’t mind; we just have a few more tests to run.”

“N-no, that’s fine…” Buttercup shrugged uneasily. “Did something happen to Dr. Scott? I thought he was the one handling my case today?”

“Dr. Scott is just fine. He got called into an all hands on deck situation and, since I was already working with a regular patient of mine down here in the ED, he passed your case off to me since it falls under my specialty. Do you mind lifting your gown for me, dear?”

As the doctor turned, Jake’s keen green eyes darted between three different things. One, the ultrasound wand in the doctor’s hand. Two, the medieval looking metal device she had placed next to his girlfriend on her bed. And three, the neat white stitching on the breast of her scrubs that read Dr. Laurie Friedman, Doctor of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

“Dr. Friedman?” Jake felt his heart sputter, then race in his chest as he squeezed Buttercup’s hand. “You’re a…I mean, your specialty…” He looked down at Buttercup, but she was staring at the white stitching as well.

“Yes, Lieutenant. As I’m sure Dr. Scott told you, Miss Floyd’s blood and urine tests came back positive for hcG, so he called for an OB consult. Since I was already here, I figured I would pop in and run the tests for him while he’s dealing with the overflow of patients we just received. This will be a little cold, dear,” the doctor soothed, draping a paper towel over Buttercup’s underwear before squeezing the gel onto her stomach. “Now, if the blood and urine tests aren’t lying to us, we should…” She moved the wand around, either obtuse to or completely ignoring the look on her patient’s (and the lieutenant’s) face. “There!”

She turned the screen to face the young couple. “Your blood test confirmed the pregnancy, but the high levels of hcG in your blood gave Dr. Scott pause. There’s baby number one…” she pointed to a tiny speck on the screen. “And there…is baby number two.”

The first week of living in the isolation cabin (affectionately known as ‘The Brig’) was absolute misery. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the water in the lake was cool and clear, and Abby and Charlie could appreciate none of it, stuck as they were doing clean up chores in the kitchen. Amelia had been assigned to supervision duty, which was mostly making sure the girls did less arguing and more cleaning.

The nights were even worse, with the girls either ignoring each other or screaming the cabin down with insults and taunts. Amelia had also spent that first week sleeping on the small stoop of the cabin in a hammock, or, at least, trying to sleep between arguments.

The only reprieve the girls got was when they headed down to the dining hall and got to sit with their friends. Breakfast, lunch and dinner found Charlie loudly complaining to her friend, Ryann, about how unfair the whole situation was, while Abby sat with Max, and Isabelle clear across the dining hall, her friends doing their best to remind her to stay strong, that she was only barred from group activities for another week, that they would try to sneak her back into their cabin in a few weeks when Penny and Amelia had cooled off a bit. Amelia spent mealtimes hiding in her mother’s office, downing headache medication, and trying to talk her mother out of whatever plan she had concocted.

The second week found the girls at an uneasy truce. Chores duty was quiet, but all the work got done. Evenings were dead silent, the girls opting to ignore each other instead of arguing.

Both girls were excited to go back to group activities on Monday, only to open the cabin door that morning to find dark clouds covering the sun, booming thunder in the distance, and rain falling in ice cold sheets.

“I suppose group activities will be cancelled today,” Abby muttered as she turned to grab her raincoat.

“You think Penny and Amelia will let us join our cabins for rainy day activities?” Charlie grumbled as she surveyed the mucky landscape. “Hell, I’d be okay doing outdoor activities in this! I thought this was supposed to show us what our family members go through in the military? I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t cancel a war because of a little rain.”

Abby giggled in spite of herself. “If they did that, there would never have been any wars in England. It’s always raining there.”

“Eww. That must suck.”

“It really does.”

The two girls locked eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.

“She’s still stuck up! You don’t want to be friends with her!” Charlie thought to herself, pulling on her own raincoat.

“She’s rude and uncouth. Anyone worth being friends with would never say such horrible things. Or try to get into a physical fight with you!” Abby breathed as she held the door open for a drenched Amelia.

“Sorry girls, but you’re not going down to the dining hall today. It’s all flooded, so all campers will be eating in their cabins,” Amelia explained quickly, handing them bottles of juice and a tray of fruit and sandwiches. “I’ve gotta get back to keep an eye on everyone. Please, please promise me you’ll get along today? I’ll be back later with lunch and dinner, and I really don’t want to have to clean up any bloodshed.”

“We promise…”

“Thank you!”

The door swung shut behind her as Amelia took off up the path back to the main camp.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna have my breakfast over here while I read,” Charlie murmured, awkwardly making eye contact before shuffling away to her bed on one side of the room.

Abby nodded, taking her own breakfast over to her bed and staring out the window before pulling out her scrap book.

Amelia popped back in a few hours later, carrying more sandwiches for lunch, surprise colouring her features at the lack of arguing and tension between the campers.

“You two are handling this better than some of the other kids,” she commented, placing the tray down. “I’ll be back around six with dinner, okay?”

Without stopping to hear their response, she turned and dashed back out the door, just as a gust of wind blew the door wide open, sending everything that wasn’t pinned down in the room flying.

“Crap!” Charlie slammed her book shut quickly as the pages started to rustle. Abby squealed as the pictures in the collage she was working on were strewn about wildly, dancing in the wind.

“Help me with the door!” Charlie cried, bolting over to the creaking wooden door and trying to heave it shut. Her fingernails scrabbled against the wood as she tried to get a good grip on the handle as the door strained against her grip, pulling her this way and that.

“Hold on, I’ve got you!” Abby seized the door handle and they leaned all their weight against the door, sighing in relief as they finally heard the faint click as it shut.

“Th-thanks…” Charlie panted, her arms trembling slightly.

“No…no problem,” Abby sagged against the wall. “You looked like you almost had it though. You’re pretty strong.”

Charlie shrugged. “I work on my dad’s ranch. Obviously, I can’t do a lot of the dangerous jobs, but even the easy stuff takes a lot of strength.”

“That’s pretty cool,” Abby offered, sinking to the floor against the wall. “Does your mum help on the ranch too?”

Charlie looked away as she sank to the floor across from her, feeling the anger rise and then fall inside of her, her body too tired to let it take hold. “No…she doesn’t. I…I don’t know who my mom is. It’s just me, my dad, and my uncles,” she admitted quietly.

“Oh…I…I’m sorry,” Abby felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I didn’t know. But…it’s okay! My mum always says that every family looks different, and it doesn’t affect how much they love each other.”

“Easy for her to say,” Charlie muttered, looping her arms around her legs, and resting her head against her knees.

Abby bit back an angry retort. She was so tired of fighting, mentally exhausted from the constant sparring with her new roommate. Maybe her mum had been right and fighting back wasn’t the way to go.

“She started saying that to me when I was five years old or so. At least, that’s when I think I started asking about my dad. I…I don’t know who he is either.”

Charlie lifted her head, looking at the girl in front of her. “You don’t?”

Abby shook her head. “For as long as I can remember, it’s been me, my mom, my aunt, and my uncle. But not, like, married aunt and uncle. He’s my mom’s brother, and my aunt is his best friend.”

“Oh…” Charlie looked down, biting her lip. “I guess that means my comment about mommy and daddy buying you riding lessons really sucked, huh?”

“It did. But I shouldn’t have called you a cornfed hick, either.” Abby flushed. “I don’t know why I said that. My mom and uncle are from Kansas, so it’s not like they’re from anywhere fancy.”

“Kansas? Then why do you sound so…Downton Abbey?”

Abby giggled. “My mum moved to London when I was just a baby. She says it was just for a job, but I think she wanted to get away from my dad too. Every time I ask about him, she gets really anxious and sad, my Uncle Bob gets really angry, and my Aunt Natasha has to distract everyone. Eventually, I just stopped asking. But she did promise to talk about him when I get home, so I’m keeping my fingers crossed for answers.”

“My dad does the same thing!” Charlie gasped, moving closer. “I ask about my mom and he gets this really sad look in his eyes, then goes into his office for a few hours! Uncle Roo will eventually go drag him out but then we just pretend I never asked. Uncle Javy acts like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to hurt my dad, so he just tells me that all my questions will be answered when I get older.”

“I hate that!” Abby shot onto her knees. “I’m almost 12! How much older do they expect me to get?”

“Right?” Charlie copied her kneeling stance. “I swear, if I don’t get answers on October 11th, I’m going to scream!”

Abby fell back on her heels, almost as though the door had been wrenched open again and she’d been blown back by a gust of wind. “Y-your birthday is October 11th?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“So is mine!”

Charlie blinked at her. Then she blinked again. Then, a third time. “I…am going to go back to reading my book.”

Abby’s shoulders rose with the force of her sigh. “Charlie, why do you keep avoiding this? We look completely alike, we have the same birthday, you have a dad, and I have a mom! Do you know what that all adds up to?”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Charlie replied huffily, picking up her book and leafing through the pages to find where she left off.

“Charlie, come on! You can’t actually believe that!”

Abby waited for a response, but all she got was Charlie raising her book to eye level in order to block her from view.

“Charlie? Please, you know there’s more to it than that!”

Charlie rolled over to face the other direction and Abby felt the anger bolt through her at ten thousand volts.

“Stop. Ignoring. Me!” she stomped around to the other side of Charlie’s bed and wrenched the book away from her.

“Hey! Give me that!” Charlie jumped out of bed as Abby ran over to her side of the cabin.

“No! Not until we figure this out!”

“Figure what out?” Charlie groaned. “We don’t look that much alike, single parent households aren’t that rare, and there are like a billion people on this planet, so obviously some are going to share a birthday!”

“Oh, come on! It’s way more than that!”

Charlie stomped over towards her and shook her head, her blond braid whipping around her face. “No. It’s not. Now give me back my book or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Abby hopped onto her bed and held the book high in the air.

“I’ll…” Charlie lunged and grabbed Abby’s scrapbook from where it had fallen on the floor. “I’ll hold this hostage until you give it back!”

“No!” Abby gasped. “Please, no! That’s important to me!”

Charlie shrugged. “And my book is important to me. I need something to read, so I guess I’ll just have to make do with this.”

Charlie retreated back onto her side of the cabin and flipped the book open to the first page.

“Fine! Here, take it!” Abby yelled, jumping off the bed and racing over to hand her the book. “Just please, give it back!”

Charlie’s hand shook as she pushed her novel off the scrapbook and onto the bed, her fingers tracing the outline of the figures that were smiling from the picture that decorated the first page.

“Charlie?” Abby asked, half desperate to get her scrapbook back and half confused. “What’s wrong?”

“Why do you have a picture of my uncles in your scrapbook?” she whispered.

“What? That’s a picture of my mum, Auntie Nat, and Uncle Bob,” Abby explained, pointing to each person in turn.

“Not them…” Charlie spoke softly, as though even one decibel too loud would shatter her. “Them.” Charlie pointed at two of the figures on the fringe of the photo. One, a moustachioed man in a pair of aviators, and the other a tall black man with a bright smile and an “I Love Las Vegas” baseball cap covering his cropped black hair. “That’s my Uncle Rooster and my Uncle Javy.”

“What?”

Charlie handed the book back before scrambling to her backpack, digging inside to pull out a folder. “This is my favourite picture of my dad and my uncles. My dad doesn’t know I have it though. I found it when I was fooling around with Uncle Javy, and he gave it to me. He made me promise never to tell my dad that I even knew it existed. I…I think it’s from my dad’s wedding to my mom. Uncle Javy made it seem that way, anyway.”

Charlie opened the folder and pulled out her photo. “That’s my dad, and see? There’s Uncle Roo and Uncle Javy.”

Abby’s shaky finger traced over two other figures who had their arms around each other on the other side of ‘Uncle Roo’. “That’s my Uncle Bob and my Aunt Natasha. Auntie Nat gave me my photo a few years ago when I asked about her about Dagger Squad. But she told me not to tell my mom or my uncle about it. She said that they would be upset.”

“There were taken on the same day,” Charlie murmured, her eyes raking over the photo. “See? The lights in the background, the clothes, the people? They’re all the same.”

“You know what this means, right?” Abby whispered, her finger now tracing over Charlie’s photo, her focus solely on the man in the middle, the man that Charlie had called Dad.

“Abby, it can’t…I don’t…” Charlie swallowed painfully.

“Charlie…I think your dad…was married to my mum.”

A door slamming behind them sent a jolt down both their spines and they spun on the bed to face the intruder.

Amelia set the tray of food down and wiped the water off her face with a sigh. “It’s about time you two figured it out.”

Tags List: @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @waltermis @buckysteveloki-me @allepaula @yuckosworld @seresinsbrat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @kim-stark @cierra715 @high-speed-r @helpmepleasethanks @starsrfun @tomanyfandomstrash @averyhotchner @the-blueatlas @princessliz86 @dashes-dizzydisaster @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boiolay @djs8891 @torimcc @tgmreader @kmc1989 @landpiranha-blog @sydthekid1518 @lynnevanss @hello7442 @mackenzieblair @minejungwoo @starset21 @ssa-sadboi @tgmavericklover @dempy @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @lovemarvelousfics, @starkleila, @magical-spit, @whatislovevavy, @simplyreading96, @vivalas-vega, @itsdesiree86, @inky-sun, @books-are-escapes

[beanjang-draws]

Plague Ponies - Research

CONTENT WARNINGS: no gore

Masterpost | Previous | Next

Summary:

Twilight doesn’t want to admit it, but things in Equestria haven’t been in tip-top shape recently. It looks like even Princess Celestia has judged that the news cycle has been too grim as of late, as she’s instructed Twilight not to make a public statement about the number of ponies who fell ill after the Everfree attack.

With the help of her number one assistant, Twilight tries to figure out how exactly to quietly prep for an epidemic when they both remember: Granny Smith is super old! She must know what to do? Wait, Pinkie? What are you doing here?!

Twilight and Pinkie end up going to Sweet Apple Acres together, where Twilight is given a book that just might contain the answers she needs. Now to decide her next course of action…should she go back to the orchard and head home now, or should she indulge for just a second in Apple Bloom’s request to check on her project?

Transcript below:

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you for understanding, Doctor. I’ll send word immediately if anything changes.

Greymare: Of course, Princess. We appreciate your generosity. Everything should be ready within the week.

Twilight: Of course. If you’re in need of any more funds, tell the distributors to contact me.

Doctor Greymare bids his farewells to Princess Twilight and takes his leave. Twilight heads back inside the library, where Spike is looking on with concern.

Spike: Twilight…are you sure we shouldn’t tell everypony now? If everypony in Ponyville really is infected, shouldn’t they all know?

Twilight Sparkle: I don’t like delaying things either, Spike, but you read Princess Celestia’s letter out yourself. Our priority is to avoid panic until we know we can answer their inevitable questions.

Spike: I guess that makes sense…hearing about another disaster after the last string of disasters would make everypony totally freak out!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike!

Spike: What? Im agreeing with you! It’s a bad idea to tell everypony about an epidemic after a discord came back, got better, accidentally caused the princesses’ kidnappings, delayed the Summer Sun Celebration—

Twilight Sparkle: SPIKE

Spike lets up after Twilight’s outburst, looking amused as she takes a breath to collect herself.

Twilight Sparkle: Maybe things haven’t been the most…stable, lately, but the princesses have everything under control. Plus, I’ve been reading up on epidemiology and it’s normal for new pathogens to crop up every few decades. We just have to be prepared for them!

Spike: Oh, perfect! You’re the most prepared pony I know!

Twilight loses her composure entirely.

Twilight Sparkle: BUT I’M NOT PREPARED! I’M THE ONE WHO’S SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF PONYVILLE NOW, BUT I CAN’T EVEN KEEP IT SAFE. ALL I’VE DONE IS LEARN TO FLY AND MEMORIZE PRINCESS ETIQUETTE. THAT’S NOT GOING TO HELP ANYPONY!

Spike: Hey, you’ve been busy saving all of Equestria! You didn’t prepare for that either, but it went fine in the end because of your friends.

Twilight Sparkle: I guess so…

Spike: If these diseases pop up every now and then, Ponyville must have had some experience with this sort of thing before. You just finished talking to Doctor Greymare, right? Maybe he could help.

Twilight Sparkle: That’s just the thing, Spike. He said he hasn’t heard of anything like this before, at least not while he’s been running the hospital.

Spike: Is there anypony who might know what happened before him?

Twilight Sparkle: You would have to be ancient to remember anything further back than that. You’d have to be…

The cogs in Twilight’s head begin to turn, and she and Spike come to the same conclusion simultaneously.

Twilight Sparkle and Spike: Somepony old like Granny Smith!

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, you’re a genius!

Spike: Bah, this is just a run of the mill performance from your number one assistant.

Twilight Sparkle: We should head to Sweet Apple Acres right now—

Suddenly, Pinkie Pie bursts in out of nowhere.

Pinkie Pie: TWILIGHT!!!! SOMETHING BIG IS COMING!!!!!!! THE FATE OF PONYVILLE DEPENDS ON IT

Spike: Pinkie, could you bring down the volume a little? My ears have been sensitive lately…

Pinkie Pie: Oh, sorry, Spike! The fate of Ponyville depends on it!

Spike: Thanks

Twilight Sparkle: Is it your Pinkie sense? Can you feel something bad coming?

Pinkie Pie: Yes! It’s big! Huge! Even bigger and huger than the time you believed in my Pinkie sense!

Spike: Wow, that IS big.

Twilight Sparkle: Well, if it’s so serious, we should tell everypony to stay indoors for the time being.

Pinkie Pie: Waaay ahead of you, Twilight! I already warned everypony not to take any unnecessary journeys on the way here.

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you Pinkie, you’ve saved us a lot of time. Now we can—

Pinkie Pie: —consult Granny Smith for her firsthoof account on Ponyville’s history of health and safety protocols?

Twilight Sparkle: …I won’t even ask. Yes, Pinkie, we’re doing just that.

Pinkie Pie: That’s a great idea, Twilight! Lead the way :3

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, let’s get to Sweet Apple Acres.

Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle begin to clear out to head to the farm. Twilight notices Spike hasn’t made moves to join them, so she sticks her head back inside to check on him.

Twilight Sparkle: Spike, aren’t you coming?

Spike: You know, Twilight, if staying indoors is so important, I think I’d better stay here and…make sure Owlowicious doesn’t go wandering around while you’re gone.

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, number one assistant! I’m leaving the library under your watch. We shouldn’t be gone too long.

It looks like most Ponyville Residents have caught wind of Pinkie’s warnings! Twilight and Pinkie only see a few ponies out and about on their way to Sweet Apple Acres. this far out, the news hasn’t yet reached the Apples, who are occupied with a busy apple bucking season.

Applejack: Howdy y’all! What brings you down to the farm?

Pinkie Pie: My Pinkie sense has been going off all morning! Im not sure what this one means!

Twilight Sparkle: But I think I could figure it out. AJ, could I talk to Granny Smith?

Applejack: Sure thing! She shouldn’t have hunkered down for her afternoon nap just yet.

Twilight Sparkle: Alright, girls, I’ll be right back.

Pinkie Pie: I’ll stay with Applejack and lend a hoof with the apples!

Applejack: You know what, that’d be mighty helpful of you, Pinkie! Big Mac’s been sick, so I’ve been buckin’ these trees all on my own!

Twilight goes off to see Granny Smith on her own.

Twilight Sparkle: Hello, Granny Smith! Sorry to barge in on you like this..

Granny Smith: Not at all, dearie. In fact, you ought to visit more often! I hear so much about you from Apple Bloom, you really should stay for supper one of these days and tell us about your lessons yourself!

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. I’ll make sure to visit more often. Unfortunately, I didn’t come by just to say hi today. I actually did have a few questions for you.

Granny Smith: Of course! Ask away, dear, I’m all ears.

Twilight Sparkle: Have there ever been any emergency health and safety protocols in Ponyville?

Granny Smith: Emergency what now?

Twilight Sparkle: Have there been any outbreaks of sickness in Ponyville in the past? Did the town have a way of dealing with them?

Granny Smith: Oh! You just mean the plague ponies. Hold on dear, I know I’ve got a book back here somewhere…it’s been sitting collecting dust! A sign of better times, I reckon…now if only I could find it…

Granny Smith begins rummaging around the house looking for the aforementioned book.

Twilight Sparkle: I think this might be just the thing I need! I haven’t heard of plague ponies before. None of my books mention them at all.

Granny Smith: Oh, your fancy city books wouldn’t have anything on this.

Granny Smith returns with a beat up looking book on hoof.

Granny Smith: I knew I still had one laying around!

Twilight Sparkle: Thank you, Granny. Um, what it is?

Granny Smith: It’s a home remedy book! Back when the town was first settling, we had all sorts of sicknesses popping up. Prob’ly from all the different ponies coming together. Without much of a way to reach Canterlot yet, we couldn’t get aid from the big city for any fancy doctor magic.

Twilight Sparkle: Oh…I had no idea that happened.

Granny Smith: Heh-heh…I’m not surprised they didn’t teach you this in your Canterlot history classes…What city pony aid we lacked, we made up for in home remedies. We each of us came together and pooled our knowledge in books like these. Here, you take this. This one’s got some of my own notes in it. Maybe you could add your own!

Twilight Sparkle: I couldn’t possibly take this from you! It’s a part of your history…

Granny Smith: It’s yours, too. And it’s doing nopony any good collecting dust with me. Just promise me to read every bit of it.

Twilight Sparkle: …Thank you, Granny. I will.

Granny Smith: Alright, now I’m off to hit the hay. Apple Bloom, you should show Twilight your plant project in the barn!

Granny Smith turns to go and take her afternoon nap. Apple Bloom appears, eager to get her turn talking to Twilight.

Twilight Sparkle: Ooh, have you figured out how to get your subjects to multiply?

Apple Bloom: I sure did!! I made the adjustments you told me to and added a little something of my own! You’ve gotta come and see it!!

POLL: Should Twilight go see Apple Bloom’s Project?

RESULT: Yes

End transcript