#like it should be such a nothing thing to bring up

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 38: Shattered

Summary: Things aren't okay. They never will be again.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,743 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, medical stuff, injuries, brief description of a possible death, language, mention of weight loss due to medical stuff, emotionally heavy chapter (again), slightly graphic imagery, illness, so much crying

A/N: I just want to make something very clear here since there's a scene in this chapter that might be interpreted this way, but 'mega is NOT suicidal. That's not something that's going to be in this fic, and neither is self-harm. It would have been well warned in advance if that was going to be something coming up in this fic. She's struggling a lot, but she's not suicidal, she's not going to become suicidal, nor will she self-harm even off screen. So don't worry. That's not what's happening. It won't be happening.

Okay, just wanted to make that clear. Enjoy the suffering!

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The scream slices through the silence seconds before chaos erupts. 

John is on his feet and out the door before Kyle is even fully awake. Simon is on his heels down the stairs, the two of them nearly colliding in their rush. His heart thuds in his chest as he sees your door open, the overhead light on. It’s bad. It must be bad if the overhead light is on. You hate the overhead light. 

He barrels in like a bull, ready to fight. The screaming has stopped, but it still rings in his ears. The fear, the panic. Something has happened. Someone got in. He should have made you take the room upstairs. He should have put a barrier between you and the door. That window. Someone could break that easily and grab you before they even noticed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

The screaming has stopped, but gut-wrenching sobs have taken its place. He takes a moment to scan the room. Nothing is misplaced. The window isn’t broken, there’s no bodies, no one that shouldn’t be in there. 

“You’re okay.” Christine soothes you as you sob. “It was just a nightmare.” 

The bright fluorescent overhead light burns his eyes as he stands there, staring at the bed. Christine is right there, having beaten them across the living room, or perhaps she had already been in there, having heard you in your distress before they could. You're tucked in her arms, your face against her shoulder as she holds you. 

Nightmare. 

The safety and security the cottage promised has faded, leaving you at the mercy of the horrors your mind can conjure up in your sleep. Something twists deep in John’s stomach as he turns, motioning for the others to back up and give you some space. You won’t want them there, and things will only get worse if you notice them. 

His heart is still thudding in his chest as he stands there, the sharp sound of your scream still ringing in his ears despite his confirmation of your safety. The other three look just as startled as he feels, standing there tensely in the dark living room. He brings himself to move, turning his back on them for a moment to try and gather his thoughts as he flips on the lamp in the corner. It casts a warm light across the living room, far too warm for how he’s feeling. He’s trying not to panic, trying not to be sick on the floor from the worry. His heart is in his throat, trying to choke him. He’s trying so hard to be strong, not just for him, but for his pack, for you. 

He sinks down on one of the couches, rubbing a hand over his face. He had been so sure something had happened, that their safe little bubble had been breached and someone knew about their whereabouts. He had been so sure someone was trying to hurt you with a scream like that. 

Maybe someone was, but not in reality. 

What is it you dream about now? Your nightmares about your father and your traumatic presentation must seem like nothing now compared to what must haunt your mind. Do you dream of Graves and his torture? Do you dream of them leaving you behind? Do you dream of dying because of their failures? 

A hand settles on his shoulder, a body sinking onto the couch next to him. Arms are wrapping around him, easing him against a solid chest. 

He’s crying. 

He didn’t even realize the tears had started flowing. 

He can hear the reverberating voice in his head, yelling at him, telling him not to show such weakness in front of his pack, in front of his team. He’s supposed to be the strong one, he’s supposed to be the stable one keeping the pack afloat and steady. Yet here he is, breaking down in front of them. 

“It’s okay.” 

Kyle. 

His sweet Kyle. 

How he’s been neglecting his sweet beta, and yet, how willing Kyle still is to reach out and comfort him in such a time of visible distress. That’s what betas are supposed to do. Mediate and balance the emotions of the pack. How have they been coping with all of this? How have Kyle and Johnny been managing in such a time of disarray and upheaval? Have they been managing it? He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know the state of his pack, of the members of his team. 

What a failure he is. 

He lets himself lean against Kyle, something filling his chest as Kyle’s soft scent seeps into his senses. He’s projecting it, not just for John but also for the whole room. Johnny is crying too, soft sobs tearing from his chest as he sits on the other couch. Simon is on his knees in front of him, trying to get him calmed and breathing. 

They’ve been ignoring and denying each other for days, fraying the bonds further while trying so hard not to. The pain they’ve been causing in their emotional constipation and intentional neglect is almost worse than the pain caused by their infighting. At least fighting they were feeling something. At least fighting they weren’t cutting each other off so willingly. 

“We can’t do this anymore.” He says, his voice thick and shaky from his tears. “Cutting each other off. It’s not helping anything.” He doesn’t move from where he’s tucked against Kyle’s chest, letting the comfort wash over him for the first time in a week and a half. 

How he’s missed this. 

“It’s not doing any good for any of us.” Simon says, shifting onto the couch next to Johnny. 

“Especially not our omega.” Kyle says, voicing the thought flashing through all of their minds. 

“We may not be able to do much to help her right now, but we can focus on each other. That is something we can do.” John swallows thickly, his alpha starting to come back to life, his instincts aware again as he stares at Johnny and Simon. “Doing nothing isn’t good for any of us. We need to have something to focus on, something tangible we can do. Denying each other comfort isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I full-heartedly agree.” 

John whips around, Christine standing in front of your closed door. He hadn’t even noticed her enter the room, hadn’t sensed her standing behind them. Johnny and Simon are the only two that don’t look startled, but they must have seen her come out from their position facing your door. 

“Sorry.” The corner of her lip twitches up in a smirk. “Thought you would have noticed.” 

John clears his throat. “How is she?” 

“Settled again.” Christine says, moving over to the chair. 

“How long has she been having nightmares?” Kyle asks. 

“Since that first day in the med center in Dallas.” She says, sinking into the chair. How heavy this must all be on her shoulders. “I’d almost call them more sleep hallucinations. Mostly of Graves. Seeing him in the room, being attacked by him.” 

“Is there anything that can be done to help?” John asks. 

“For these kinds of nightmares? Not really.” Christine folds her hands in her lap. “Her brain is trying to process what happened. Until she feels safe enough to truly begin working on processing the trauma, it’s likely the nightmares will continue.” 

“Is there anything we can do to help her feel safe?” Kyle says. 

Christine’s lips purse as she looks between the four of them. “I’m not sure any of you could do anything right now directly, at least. She’s not open to that yet. Working on your bonds with each other, though, could help her omega finally settle and allow her emotions to even out again. That can help her feel safer, remove that instability and the fear of losing control again.” 

All of them share looks, John and Simon staring at one another. They hadn’t even thought about that. Well, at least he hadn’t. Christine had told him months ago that omegas need their alpha when they distress, when their omega takes over. They can come back from it with the help of an alpha...their alpha. Without one, the chances of survival were slim. Yet here you are, trying to do it all on your own. Having to do it all on your own. 

That ache in his chest starts again as he stares at Simon. He sent Simon after you, he made Simon go through that process of seeing you in that state and scruffing you. He made Simon be the one to help you through that. He made Simon be there when you needed an alpha most because he couldn’t face the fact that he abandoned you, he left you behind like you were nothing but another faceless soldier. 

He wipes his face as the tears start falling again. He truly is a failure of an alpha. 

Despite Christine’s reassurances, John can’t help the automatic reaction to your screams. On his feet instantly, his heart pounding in his chest ready to fight bare handed whatever might be causing such a reaction. Whoever might be causing such a reaction. He can’t fight the demons in your head, though, and he’s always greeted by the sight of Christine by your side, comforting you as best she can. 

He wants to hate her, wants to be angry at her for taking his place, doing what he should be doing. His alpha scratches at his mind every time he sees her by your side, giving you comforts he should be giving, but it’s his fault. It’s his fault she’s the one there with you. It’s his fault you’re suffering so much. Those thoughts send his alpha crawling back into its cage with its tail between its legs. 

It doesn’t matter the time of day, whether it was a nap or the middle of the night, your screams have a pain throbbing deep in his chest. His heart is constantly racing, waiting for that rush of adrenaline at the sound of your terrified scream, at that rush of instinct to protect and fight. He’s not sure how much his heart can take. 

He might have a heart attack by the end of their stay at the cottage. 

That’s something he’s been trying not to think about. 

They can’t stay here forever, no matter how much he knows you’ll want to, how much the others will want to. Eventually they’ll begin to go stir-crazy, itching for something to do. They still have jobs, and Kate can only keep them off the radar for so long, and can only give so many excuses. Eventually they’ll have to go back. Eventually they’ll have to make that decision of what comes next. 

He’s going to delay that as much as he possibly can. 

They can’t go back while Shepherd is still out there. They can’t trust that anywhere is safe while he’s still skulking around, while he still has contacts that could put them all in danger. That could put you in danger. 

That’s not a risk he’s willing to take again. 

But what comes next? 

What will they decide to do? Can they go back, knowing what the inevitable will be? Can they take that risk of having to leave you again, put you through that constant fear and worry that they might not come back? What if they all leave again? Could you survive the fear that something might happen while they’re away again? Not to them, but to you? 

Could they leave you alone again? 

Those are thoughts for another day when they’re inevitably faced with the fact they have to return to society and their lives and jobs. 

They have time. 

He has to make sure you’re okay first. 

You’re not okay.

You’re so very far from okay. 

The bedside lamp is on, casting a golden glow around the room. 

There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. 

It’s one of the rare times you’ve woken before you can react, before you can scream and alert everyone in the house that you’ve had a nightmare. They’ll all come running. All of them. 

You hate it. 

You hate the nightmares, you hate the fear, you hate the constant pain and worry and the constant knowledge that your pack is right there. They want to go back to how things were, they want things to go back to normal, but they can’t. They expect you to forgive them, to go back to loving them, but how can you after everything? 

They left you. 

They let this happen to you and they just want you to pretend like nothing happened. That’s what they would do. Go back to normal life after being tortured and forget it all happened because that’s what they do. 

You’re not them. 

You don’t want to be like them. 

Cold. Heartless. Uncaring. Unwilling to put anyone but themselves first. 

Fuck them. 

The only thing keeping you here is the fact you’re bonded to them. That, and you’re an omega. You’d get picked up off the street and brought right back here to your owner. Or, worse, you’d get picked up by someone looking for a cute little omega to add to their collection. 

Or worse. 

You’d get picked up by someone else. 

Graves. Shepherd. 

If you’re lucky, they’d kill you instantly. Leave your body on the front porch for the others to find. You won’t care anymore. You’ll be dead. 

You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks, wiggling yourself back until you’re leaning against the headboard. Your shoulder doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore. It still throbs, still aches, still occasionally almost puts you on the floor when you try to reach over your head with it. Your throat is healing too. Soup isn’t quite as horrible as it was a few days ago. Solid food makes you ache, but at least you can get it down without feeling like you’re swallowing glass. 

You still haven’t spoken to them, though. 

You can hardly stand to look at them. 

Fuck them. 

Just the thought of them makes you want to scream. 

Dr. Keller says it's normal, being angry. ‘It’s all part of the process.’ The anger, the fear, the pain, the depression. It’s all normal. It’s all part of the process. It’s all necessary. You won’t get better holding it all in. You won’t get better numbing yourself. You won’t get better if you don’t allow yourself to feel everything. 

You hate it. 

Why should you have to go through all these feelings, all this pain? Why should you be the one suffering because of their decisions? It’s not fair. They should be suffering. They should be in pain. They should be the ones on the brink of insanity because of the fear and the pain and the suffering and their omega constantly screaming at them. 

It makes you want to scream. 

Screaming will only draw them in, force them closer. Screaming will alert them all, make them all come running. You don’t want any of them near. You don’t want to have to see them again. 

Fuck them. 

You let out a huff before wiggling back down the bed until your head hits the pillow. You won’t go back to sleep. You never do. At least you have the pain and exhaustion and tumultuous emotions and your very nature to excuse your constant naps, constant sleeping during the day. They don’t need to know you’re not sleeping at night. They won’t care. They don’t care. None of them do. 

Fuck. Them. 

You want your phone, you want something to keep you occupied. It’s probably lying somewhere on the side of the road shattered beyond repair. That, or it’s back in the barracks. The barracks. Fuck that place. You’ll rip your hair out strand by strand if you have to go back there. It’s not safe, it’s not happy. There’s nothing good about that place anymore. 

It’s just a place of pain. You might as well have been tortured by Phil there. 

You were tortured there. 

It wasn’t a physical torture, but a mental one. The entire experiment was just torture for you. No one thought of you, no one cared about you. 

Dr. Keller cares. 

It’s her job to care. 

Still, you can’t hate her entirely. She’s the only one that understands. She’s the only one that can help. She’s the only one that’s been helping. Not just now, but back then. She cared, she fought for you, she did her best with what she had. Sure, she made mistakes, but so did you. She’s the only one you can forgive. 

She’s the only one you want to forgive. 

Fuck the others. Fuck your pack. Fuck those fucking soldiers who were never going to care about anyone but themselves, who were never going to care about anything but their jobs and their duties and the good of the world. 

You should have been their world. 

They couldn’t put you first. They wouldn’t put you first. They didn’t want to put you first. 

They won’t change. They can’t change. There’s no hope for change. 

You’ll just go back to the way things were before and be forced to pretend everything's okay and that you’re happy and fine and content. Were you ever really content or were you just trying to make the best of the situation? Were you deluding yourself into believing you loved them and cared about them and that they loved you and cared about you to numb the fact you knew deep down that they never would, that they never could. Were you deluding yourself into thinking everything was fine and dandy to hide the constant pain from the knowledge that you would never come first? 

The pain begins to burn in your chest again. It’s hot like acid, rising in your chest to your throat, threatening to choke you. It’s a deep pain, one nestled right in against your soul. Tears leak out of your eyes again as you squeeze them shut, pushing your right hand against your chest in an attempt to get it to pass. 

You thought you were dying the first time. 

You could only be so lucky. 

The bond. 

It’s trying to break, trying to sever itself, trying to free you from the constant pain, but it can’t. 

Maybe because deep down you don’t want it to. Maybe deep down you want to forgive them and move past all of this. Maybe you want things to go back to normal, even if normal means pain and distress and fear. Maybe you want to believe them that they’re finally going to put you first. 

‘Maybe’ is only a doorway to disappointment and pain. 

Fuck yourself. 

Fuck your omega. 

Fuck your pack. 

Hell, fuck Dr. Keller for not fighting harder, for not doing more. 

Fuck Graves and his haunting of your nightmares.

Fuck Kate for choosing you.

Fuck Shepherd for creating the initiative in the first place to try and cover his own ass. 

Fuck them all. 

You tug the blanket higher around yourself, rolling onto your right side. 

Fuck. Them. All. 

You don’t want him here. 

He does it now, usually in the mornings. 

You hate it. 

You like it. It’s nice. He’s the only one making an effort. 

He never says anything, surprisingly enough. It’s silent as he sits there, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Always coffee, never tea. He won’t sink that low. He brings you a cup, but you can never bring yourself to touch it. You feel like a mental patient stuck in a straight jacket. You could free yourself, but that would bring too much awareness, too many questions, too much pain. 

You don’t want to. 

So instead you sit there in silence, staring out at the sea. It’s so far away still, yet it’s right there. You can hear it and smell it and see it. 

The sea. 

They brought you to the sea. 

John remembered. He did it for you. 

The thought has something stirring in your chest, and it’s not pain or anger. 

You hate it. 

Johnny leans back in the chair, his eyes on the horizon like yours. He sits there in that chair every chance he gets, usually in the mornings when Dr. Keller takes time for herself and leaves one of them watching you through the sliding glass door. You do feel guilty for forcing so much on Dr. Keller’s shoulders, yet you need her. 

You’re not ready for the others yet, no matter how loudly your omega screams at you. 

You don’t want them. 

Fuck, you desperately need them. 

Your eyelids flutter frantically as you try to keep the tears at bay. You can’t cry. You can’t let him know how close you are to breaking down. You can’t. 

You can’t reach out. 

You can’t take his hand. 

How desperately you want to. 

You nearly breathe a sigh of relief when the sliding door opens, Dr. Keller’s soft footsteps crossing the wood planks of the porch. 

“Ready to go inside now?” She asks, pressing the back of her hand against your cheek. You don’t say anything, don’t react, frozen in fear of everything coming tumbling out in front of Johnny. “You’re getting cold.” 

Johnny glances your way and you immediately turn to look at Dr. Keller, scared to look him in the face. That desperate hold you have on the gaping wound in your abdomen will open and your guts will come spilling out like some gory scene in a horror movie. 

Disembowelment thanks to your own weakness. 

Dr. Keller holds the crutch out for you as you push yourself to stand. Your legs are strong enough you could probably walk without it, but it’s still nice to have it in case you get tired. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

It’s the weakness from your liquid diet over the past week and a half. The weakness of being unable to eat solid foods, to properly nourish. You’ve lost weight, your clothes hanging from your body in a way they never did before. You’ve lost the softness that marks you as an omega, but it feels fitting. You don’t feel like an omega anymore. 

You don’t feel like anything anymore. 

You’re fighting your instincts out of pain and suffering and stubbornness. You keep taping your omega’s mouth shut despite how loudly she screams at you. You don’t want your instincts. You don’t want that need. Eventually it has to go away. Eventually it has to recede and your omega has to go back into her cage and sleep. Eventually you can numb yourself to it and force it away forever. 

That will certainly make things easier. 

But will it make things better? 

No. Probably not. 

It’ll make things worse. 

But if it allows you to keep your distance, allows you to avoid them, you’ll risk it. You’d take numbness over anything right now. 

How you miss those long days of depression while they were away. How you took those days for granted. 

Who knew those hours spent worrying about them and their distance and what might happen to them would be for nothing? 

What you wouldn’t give for all of them to disappear right now. 

How badly it would destroy you. 

“She’s at war with herself. That instinctual need is screaming at her, but that emotional pain is keeping her shut away. If anyone is going to get through to her, it will probably be you.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his jaw as he stares at Christine. As much as he wants to hate the doctor and her ability to see straight through him, he can’t deny how necessary her presence has been. She’s the only one you tolerate, the only one you’ll let close. Without her you’d probably be rotting in bed, stuck and unable to do anything out of stubbornness. You won’t let them close, yet you need them close. 

You’re going to rip yourself in half, metaphorically and possibly even literally. 

He shakes that mental image from his mind. The horrifying images his mind has conjured up over the last few days have his stomach churning. Even his tea no longer looks appetizing. 

He put milk in it this time. Almost how he likes it. Almost how he wants it. 

“Johnny’s the one actually trying.” Simon says, staring across at her. She doesn’t shy from his gaze, doesn't even flinch. “You should talk to him.” 

“While I agree, reintroducing a beta from the pack is the first step, eventually she’s going to need an alpha.” Christine says. 

“She needs her alpha.” He argues. 

“She doesn’t want her alpha.” Christine counters. “He’s going to be the last she lets close, but she’s going to need some kind of stability.” 

“I can’t give her that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his hand around his mug, his knuckles going white. She’s infuriating, yet he can’t be mad at her. Not completely. The good she’s doing for you, for the pack, far outweighs his annoyance with the doctor. She’s right. He knows it deep down, but he can’t. He can’t do that, he can’t put you through that. He’s already done enough. He did his part, he faced his fears, he saved your life. That’s enough for him. It’s up to John now. 

John has to do the work to fix it. He broke it, it’s no one else’s job to fix it. 

“Maybe both.” Simon finally says, pushing himself up to stand. “It’s not my job to fix this.” 

He leaves his mug behind as he stalks out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. He can’t stand being in the house any longer, cooped up with the same five people. Four people and a ghost. 

He shakes his head, jogging down the steps into the gravel. He should go for a jog. A long jog. He could jog to town and back. That will clear his head. 

That’s a long jog.

If something happens while he’s away, he won’t get back in time. It’ll be his fault because he took the time to do something selfish. He can picture it, coming back to find five bodies laying in pools of blood, dead because he wasn’t there to help, because he wasn’t there to fight. 

It’s a ridiculous thought. There’s three other highly trained soldiers in the house. If anyone tried anything, they wouldn’t make it past the door. He can see it now, Price’s alpha coming out in a rage because someone dared try to enter and hurt his vulnerable omega. He’d probably win in a fight ten to one if that happened, and he has Kyle and Johnny to back him up. Christine would take you and run the first chance she could. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not again. 

Still, he can’t shake that fear. If he can’t sprint back, then it's too far. If it will leave the pack too vulnerable, he can’t. 

To the beach and back, then. 

She’s like an angel. 

The soft sunlight streaming through the clouds makes her glow. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was shining just for her, sending down a beam just to illuminate just how ethereal she is. 

The Garrick beauty is genetic. 

Kyle is beautiful in terms of a man. He shares the same ethereal glow as his sister, but Ashley? You don’t feel worthy of looking upon her. 

“Kyle never mentioned an omega, but then again, he never says much about his job.” She gives another dazzling smile, your heart rate picking up just slightly. “Can’t, I should say. You haven’t been with them long, huh.” 

“About nine months.” You say, your voice still a bit hoarse. It’s not quite healed yet. It might be that way forever. 

“Such a short amount of time to go through so much.” She says, giving you a soft, sympathetic look. You don’t know how much she knows, though it’s still fairly obvious you’ve been through hell. That you’re still going through hell. “Christine told me a bit about what happened. I don’t blame you one bit for being upset at them. I would have left them, but I know. In a perfect world, right?” 

You make a quiet sound. Indeed in a perfect world where omegas have rights and can make their own decisions and could leave and have support in doing so. You’d leave with Dr. Keller or even Ashley, even though you’ve only known her for ten minutes. She has the same magnetic energy as Kyle, so much so you don’t mind the way the scent blockers burn your nose. She probably smells like something warm and soft, something comforting. 

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?” She says, settling in the chair. It’s cool outside, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it one bit. 

You scramble for something, anything. What is it you like to do? What are your hobbies? You’re drawing a blank, your mind searching through its filing cabinets to find where you shoved all the things you like to do. 

“I like to read.” You finally say, remembering the stack of untouched books on the dresser across from the bed. 

“Oh? What do you like to read?” She asks. 

What do you like to read? What is a genre? What are books? 

“Oh, I read anything, as long as it’s interesting.” Is that the truth? You’re not quite sure. 

“I see, I see. Well, there’s quite the collection on those shelves inside. I’m a reader too. Read through those entire shelves over the years.” She grins at you. “We could do a little book club, if you’d like. Read some books and talk about them over some tea. We could get Christine in on it too. Have a little thing just for us girls.” 

You nod, staring at her in awe. This is the first time someone outside of your little circle has offered to do anything with you, for you. 

You want to do it. 

You want to spend time with someone who isn’t your pack, who isn’t Dr. Keller. 

“Okay.” You say, still staring at her in awe. 

“I could come over on the weekends, or we could do a call if you’re not up to seeing anyone.” She continues, and you’re not sure if she made this plan before she came, or if she’s coming up with it on the spot. Regardless, you're still impressed by her and her dedication to a complete stranger. 

“Would...would that be too much?” You ask, your brain starting to wake up again, the wires connecting once more. 

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I live and work in Exeter, so I’m not too terribly far away.” 

You’re not sure where Exeter is off the top of your head. Your mental map isn’t even sure how far away London is...or even where you are on a map of England. Are you even in England right now? 

“What do you do for work?” You ask, realizing you’ve been silent for an awkward amount of time. 

“I’m a finance lawyer.” She says. “Mum used to say ‘you love to argue so much, you should become a lawyer.’” She laughs. “So I did.” 

“You must make a lot of money.” You say. You don’t know how much lawyers make in England relative to the US. 

“I make enough to be comfortable.” She says. Enough to travel back and forth every weekend. “Seriously, though, if you need or want anything, let me know. I’m more than happy to come sit with you and give you a break from those stinky men.” 

You’re not quite sure what happens to your face. It contorts, muscles shaking off the dust and starting to move before you even realize it. Your lips are tilting upwards instead of downwards. Something is happening. Something that feels good, something that you’ve been missing. 

You’re smiling. 

You’re smiling. You haven’t smiled in a long time. Weeks. Not since the cameras. Not since your pack left. You haven’t felt like smiling in so long you’re certain you forgot how to. But yet, here you are, smiling at Ashley. It’s not a genuine smile, one that crinkles your eyes and shows joy, but it’s a smile. It almost hurts your face after so long. 

She’s funny too. 

Stinky men. 

They are that. 

Your smile falls as soon as the sliding glass door opens, your head whipping around to look. Ashley turns to look too, perhaps out of instinct at your sudden movement. 

You’re half expecting it to be one of the guys, maybe Kyle out to ruin the moment, but it’s only Dr. Keller. 

“How are things going?” She asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Good.” Ashley says. “We’re planning a book club.” 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises a brow, looking between you. “I think that would be fantastic.” 

“You’re welcome to join in if you’d like,” Ashley says, giving Dr. Keller a smile. 

You stare up at Dr. Keller, watching the way her lips turn up a smile, her eyes shining with...something. Her hands open and close, tugging at her pants almost nervously. Your brows raise as you look back up at her face. She almost looks...flustered. 

Oh. 

Another grin forms on your face as you stare between them, Ashley still smiling and Dr. Keller still looking a bit flustered. 

Oh. 

“You could join us if you want.” You say slowly, still looking up at Dr. Keller. 

She seems to snap out of her daze, her gaze darting down to you. She gives you a soft smile, back to her composed, professional self. “If that’s what you’d like.” 

You nod. Even though you see her constantly every day, you’re not tired of her existence yet. She’s the only one whose existence in the house doesn’t make you want to gouge your eyes out, the only one you want to talk to, to see, to have around. If you had the choice, you’d be here alone with her. 

That’s not possible. You know it’s not. 

“A thing for just us girls.” Ashley says. “On the weekends. No pressure whatsoever.” 

“I think that would be fantastic.” Dr. Keller says. “A nice little distraction.” 

“A nice break from those stinky men.” You say. 

Both Dr. Keller and Ashley erupt in laughter. 

Another smile tugs at your lips. 

You don’t want to be here. You can feel him staring at you from behind. He hasn’t moved since Dr. Keller left, still just standing there like he’s not sure he can approach you or not. You hope he doesn’t. You want him to. 

You don’t say anything, still staring out at the ocean, but you can see him reflected in the glass, obscuring your view of the horizon. Hatred burns inside of you as you have no choice but to stare at him, even when you’re trying not to. He’s like a ghost, always haunting you. He always will be. 

“I didn’t want to try to rush into this.” He finally says, knowing you’re not going to say anything. You won’t greet him, welcome him into your space. It already feels like an intrusion into your safety, him being here. 

Is this becoming a safe space? A nest? No, not that far. It’s becoming sacred to you, though, and having him in it without invitation feels wrong. It makes you uncomfortable. 

You hate it. 

“But I just wanted you to know that we’re all feeling the weight of what we did, I’m feeling the weight of what I decided to do. We all feel guilty for putting you through that, for forcing you to endure things you never should have.” 

He swallows thickly, falling silent for a moment. You almost feel like laughing at his attempt at an apology, another attempt at an apology. Why is he even bothering? He knows you won’t forgive him. He’s probably doing it for himself again, to make himself feel better. 

“I know it’s not an ideal situation, being forced in such a small space together, but we all wanted you to know that you’re the one setting the boundaries. If you don’t want us to be somewhere or do something, then you can tell us, or have Christine tell us. If you don’t want to see us at all, we can make our best attempts at that.” 

“That would be ideal.” You say, breaking the silence you’ve held for days. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since the hospital, since his first sad attempt at an apology. 

It shocks him to stillness and silence. 

The words hurt, burning your throat like acid as you stare at his reflection in the glass. You hate it, how pathetic he looks standing there. Where’s the big, tough alpha? Where’s the strong protector? Where’s the person that’s supposed to take care of you and care about you? 

He never existed. 

He left you behind. 

He never cared. 

Anger begins to bubble within you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, his voice shaking. “I never meant for this to happen-”

“You think your sad attempts at apologies are going to work?” You hiss at him through your teeth. You push yourself to stand, turning to face him. “You left me. You fucking left me there knowing full well what was going to happen!” You’re shouting now. All the quiet movements on the other side of the wall in the main area stop. 

They’re all listening. 

It’s not like you’re giving them much of a choice not to. 

Fuck them.

“I know,” He says, his eyes wide as he stares at you. 

“Do you? Do you know?” Your voice is wavering, your throat starting to ache but you can’t stop. Not now. It’s all coming out and there’s no stopping it. “You. Left. Me. You willingly turned your back on me time and time again even when I was being tortured! You leaving was torture enough and you still chose me second. I’ve always been second. I’ve never mattered enough for you to even question anything!” 

You let out a sob, the sound cracking in your throat. It hurts, but it will always hurt. You’ll always carry this hurt with you, so you want him to hurt too. 

“I asked you once if you would ever leave for me. You said if things got dangerous, if my life were ever at risk because of you, you’d leave in a heartbeat.” The tears are falling, streaming down your face. “Was that a lie?” 

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, staring at you. Does he even remember that conversation? 

“Was that a lie?” You shout, making him jump. 

His eyes drop to the floor, his scent souring. Good, you think. Let it hurt. 

“Answer me.” You say, pushing him to give some response to your question. You need to know. You need him to say it. 

“I didn’t intend for it to be.” He says quietly. 

“You didn’t intend for it to be.” You say, bitterness coating your tone. “What the fuck does that mean? You said you wouldn’t let me go even if the initiative failed. Was that a lie too? Was it all a lie to keep me happy and complacent? ‘The job always comes first,’ even when my life is in danger, right? The job always comes first over everything, even me. You lied to me.” You swallow the sob threatening to come up. “I want to hear you say it.” 

He stands there, tears brimming in his eyes. He hasn’t moved hardly a muscle, still frozen like a statue. 

“Say it!” You scream at him, your throat tearing around the words. You’re surprised you’re not tasting blood yet from how raw it feels. 

“I lied.” He says, swallowing thickly. “I lied to you and I couldn’t keep my promise. And I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t apologize.” You cut him off starting to pace as the anger burns hot in you. “Don’t you fucking apologize to me, you don’t deserve to apologize. You don’t deserve the chance at forgiveness. You’re a shitty alpha and you always have been!” 

You let out a sob, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. There’s a tear sliding down his cheek, and it brings you some sort of relief deep down. So he can feel things after all. 

“I don’t know what I expected, though.” You let out a sardonic laugh. “You military men are all the same. It’s always about the job and the image and the ‘greater good’ and making sacrifices, even if that means sacrificing your pack. You’re just like my dad. You never wanted an omega, you never wanted me. You cast me out and let me suffer when I needed you most.” 

The anger burns hot in you again, shooting through your veins until it’s choking you as you stare at him standing there pathetically. He thought he could apologize, he thought his groveling would mean anything to you. Fuck him. Fuck them all. 

“You left me.” You grit out, your hands starting to shake. “You left me! You abandoned me, you let me get hurt! You didn’t care, you never cared about me!” You storm over to him. “Fuck you!” You scream, hitting his chest. “I fucking hate you!” You shove him back, sending him stumbling. “Get out!” You shove him again, pushing him back towards the door. “Get out! I never want to see you again!” 

He stumbles back out of the door and you slam it in his face so hard it shakes on its hinges. You click the lock as you sob in pain, pain both physical and emotional. Your chest aches, a tearing feeling burning through it. 

The bond. 

You don’t care. You don’t give a fuck anymore. You hate him, you hate them all. 

The tears and sobs threaten to choke you but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care about anything anymore except the anger burning hot through you, making your hands shake. Your legs give out and you slide to the floor against the door, sliding until you’re laying down on your back on the hardwood. It’s cold against your skin but you don’t care. You can’t care anymore. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Her hand presses against your forehead, wiping some of the sweat beading on your skin. Despite your shivers, you’re burning hot. A fever. You worked yourself up too much earlier in your outburst. She had been proud of you for finally releasing some of it and showing some emotion, but she knew the consequences of getting so worked up would be high. Your omega is still unstable, on top of still trying to physically recover. You hurt yourself doing that, even if it was necessary. 

She shushes you as you whine, fingers grasping at the blanket clumsily. She pulls it higher over you, your body shuddering underneath the pile already stacked on top of you. She’d put every blanket she could find over you, and yet you still shiver. Worry floods her again as she stares down at you, your eyes pinched closed. You must be aching, your show of anger taking its toll. 

It was necessary, but at what cost? 

If your temperature continues to spike, the risk of distress heightens. You can’t handle distress in your current state, which would mean your omega would come out, finally be freed again from the unprotected cage it's been pushed back into. If your omega comes out, that will require John to help, which may only drive you further into distress. 

She needs to try and stop this before the situation continues to deteriorate. 

But how? 

How can she move you past this without the help of your pack? She can’t give you the comfort you need. Medicine or any therapeutic methods can help solve the issue at its core. Sure she can try and lower your fever with medicine, but you need your pack. You need that comfort and stability that only they can offer. 

You need someone, and it can’t be her. 

If your omega comes back out, they might never be able to get it back in. It’ll be the end of you. All of your recovery, the fight you’ve put up against your body and your instincts and your mind will have been for nothing. 

You need someone. 

An idea begins to form in her head, her hand resting against your forehead. It’s hot under her hand, your skin burning. You might hate her later for this. It’s risky, but sometimes risks have to be taken in dire situations. Sometimes those risks pan out in the end. What will happen if it fails? The inevitable that’s going to happen if she doesn’t try. It’s a lose-lose situation, but if it works, it could be a win-win. 

She can’t help you, but maybe she has someone who can. 

She tucks the blankets around you, cocooning you in an attempt to keep you warm and still while she steps away. She won’t be gone long.  

She leaves your door cracked open just in case, even though she doubts you’ll be moving much while she’s away. 

Just in case. 

One can never be too careful. 

She heads up the stairs quietly, going slow to avoid startling any of them. She’s intruding on the safe space they’ve made in their solitude. It feels like invading sacred grounds, but it's a necessary invasion. Their omega is in danger. They’ll forgive her. 

The bathroom door is closed at the end of the short hallway, a light on inside. The lights are on in both rooms too, glowing beneath both doors, and she takes a gamble. Based on the heaviness of the footsteps above the kitchen she can guess the room on the right is the one Simon and Johnny are staying in. If she’s wrong, she’ll have some explaining to do before she’s ready, and she knows John will have his thoughts about this. Though, with what happened earlier, perhaps he’ll agree. You won’t see him, but maybe...just maybe... 

She lets out a deep breath before knocking firmly, waiting a breath before she calls out.  

“Johnny, I need your help.”

She just hopes you don’t hate her too much later. 

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[paarksunghoon]

FIXED COMFORT | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: typically, sunghoon’s the one who takes care of you when you’ve had one too many. but once in a blue moon, he lets his guard down and allows you to care for him the way he does for you.

or, the one where sunghoon’s drunk at a bar and misses his girlfriend a little too much.

NOTES: idk I just feel like someone should let him sleep for six months straight!!!

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 4.4K (4444 exactly—she’s a shortie).

WARNINGS: fluff on fluff on fluff.

***

“Hey, do you think you could come get Sunghoon from the bar? He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”  

Jay’s phone call pulls you out from a deep slumber on a Saturday night that falls on a day with no plans other than pure relaxation. Sunghoon had been preoccupied with work and classes this past week and wanted to unwind by drinking at his favorite bar with his closest friends and all you wanted to do was sleep the weekend away. 

Since the two of you started dating six months ago after being friends for a little over two years, you both agree on the notion that you’ve found a good balance between time spent together and apart respectively. Nothing fundamentally changed with the exception of kissing and touching one another in the way a couple would. He still respects your independence and you respect his time away from you as well. 

Sunghoon learned quickly that you’re the type of person who values your alone time more than anything else. When he first started developing feelings for you, grappling with your absence wasn’t easy. He initially thought you weren’t interested in getting to know him the way he was with you because you weren’t afraid to decline invitations and telling people ‘no.’ Slowly, over the course of many months of pining and late night conversations, did Sunghoon learn that you’re typically your best self after a moment of isolation. 

Your boyfriend is somewhere in between an introvert and extrovert. He tends to be shy when he meets people he isn’t familiar with while his loud, rambunctious attitude is typically reserved for those who know him best. He likes to keep to himself for the most part, giving some of his personality away when he feels his walls start to crumble naturally. You love that he has a good head on his shoulders and that he’s able to tell you about his feelings while maintaining an air of confidence. He doesn’t inherently need anybody; he likes your company and will do anything to keep it.

Moments like this are when your heart feels softer for Sunghoon than when the two of you were just friends.

“I know you wanted to spend the weekend alone but Hoon’s been saying your name all night,” Jay says. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No, it’s fine.” You’re sure Jay can hear your brittle voice. “Are you guys at the bar near your place?”

“That’s the one. Thanks again and I’m really sorry for waking you up.”

“Don’t sweat it. Cook me something next week if you still feel bad.” 

“I can do that. Chili oil noodles with shrimp sound good?”

“It’s almost like you know me.” He laughs at your sarcasm. 

“Drive safe.” 

When Jay hangs up, you allow yourself a few minutes to adjust and wake up, stretching your body from the warm comfort of your blankets. You change out of Sunghoon’s shirt to put on pajama pants and another one of his stolen shirts, opting not to take a jacket since you figure you won’t be out for very long. 

You thank your past self for filling up your gas tank before tonight after having put it off for a few days. Knowing Sunghoon, he would still scold you for allowing yourself to run nearly empty before filling it up even if he was inebriated. Somehow, knowing this about him brings a smile to your face.

Sunghoon’s the kind of guy who likes to have some control over certain things. He likes order and structure, often waking up at the same hour every weekday to build a routine his body can remember. He’s been like that since you first met him but you think it’s part of his charm. Even from two years ago, when you met him through Jake Sim, Sunghoon has maintained a level of confidence and control that he does now. On the heels of an impressive skating career before pivoting to focus on higher education, Sunghoon had his preferences and will stick by them. 

His discipline is the first thing you noticed when you met him for the first time. Jay, someone you were already familiar with, agreed to cook dinner with your friend group under the condition that everyone helped him shop and chip in for the meal. Sunghoon held Jake back from buying unnecessary things like boxed chocolate milk and candy because Jay had desserts back at his place. He held a checklist of items whereas the rest of your friends ran up and down the aisles without thinking much about what needed to be purchased.

Sunghoon’s near-meticulous behavior is juxtaposed to your chaotic and rambunctious nature. You often follow your gut instead of setting a solid plan because you’re not concerned with meeting deadlines, sans education. Whereas you tend to lean towards a go-with-the-flow attitude, Sunghoon is the opposite. But that’s something he loves about you.  

At a surface level distinction, it didn’t seem like the two of you would get along as well as you did. It surprised Jake when Sunghoon asked for your number so he could text you about seeing a comedy film with him as no one else in the group wanted to see it. Including you at an impromptu study session with him (Sunghoon was organized and neat while your pens were spread all over and your study methods, haphazard) felt like watching two people clash. 

Rather, you and Sunghoon complement one another. 

The idea of letting himself go with someone who wasn’t part of his friend collective was unheard of. Getting to know a girl who didn’t share similar lifestyles didn’t appeal to him before meeting you, and you’re inarguably the most chaotic person Sunghoon knows. But he finds that there’s order within your chaos—you know who you are and what you want, and you will not compromise yourself just to please other people. 

It’s what Sunghoon loves the most about you. There’s a boundary you never let anyone cross under the assumption that your own safety net feels compromised. He’s watched you lose friends for this same reason and has always admired the way you carry yourself like you know you deserve better than people who disrespect you. He’s witnessed the grace you maintain when people who call you a friend voice words of kindness but speak ill about you behind your back. If anything, Sunghoon feels pity for anyone who crosses you to the point of anger. To be envious of another’s confidence is one thing. To make that known is another. 

Sunghoon learns that you let your inhibitions go because holding control over yourself feels like a burden. It feels like setting a standard you will never be able to meet. He never thought of order in that way before getting to know you. Your approach to life sparked a new wave of emotions within him to the point where he was open and willing to let you farther into his life. 

His days were ruled by guidelines he had to maintain and proper etiquette that followed him even off the rink. The poise he carried from his career on the ice bled into his personal life too. Although, he doesn’t mind that it does. Sunghoon values any form of structure because it makes him feel like he has a purpose and that there’s something to be accomplished at the end of the day. 

Most times, Sunghoon’s feels like people judge him for his regimen and can’t fathom why he appreciates control so much. They tell him to let loose and enjoy his time away from his career. People always think he simply doesn’t know how to have fun because he’s set in his ways and won’t let other people coax him into doing something he’s not comfortable with. But not you. Sunghoon has never felt like you‘ve judged how he chooses to live his life. 

Before he knew it, a year had passed and he started to call you one of his best friends. The friendship was gradual. Sunghoon didn’t have many close female friends in the way he does with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. You’re the first person since ending his career who hasn’t tried to pry into the why. In fact, Sunghoon enjoys that you didn’t bring it up. 

(You did, in the form of cooing over his younger self skating in competitions for the first time or roasting all of the outfits he had to wear. But somehow, all of your jabs made him feel happier than when people complimented his performance.)

Eventually, being around you felt too right. He loved it when you took naps on his bed and felt comfortable raiding your kitchen pantry without permission. Sunghoon could leave you in his apartment without him being in it and feel at ease. In fact, he started to look forward to coming home to you. All it took was seeing you wear his hoodie because you got too cold and forgot your jacket, to make him drop his bag by the front door and ask you to be his girlfriend. He hasn’t regretted anything with you since. 

The weather is cold outside since it’s approaching the middle of autumn. You let your car warm up and blast the heat all the way up while adjusting your defrosting settings before heading to the bar to pick up Sunghoon. You sift through your playlists and settle on soft indie melodies before you drive away from the curb. 

You’ve never seen Sunghoon get drunk to the point of needing extra help. Usually, you’re the one who goes a little too hard whenever Heeseung brings out the alcohol or if Jake offers an edible or two. Sunghoon likes to sit back and stay sober (or sober up by the end of the night) when he notices you having too much fun. He doesn’t mind, though. Sunghoon likes taking care of you because sometimes it gives him purpose. You’ve never understood that sentiment but to each their own. 

The only times you’ve seen him completely wasted are usually when you’re equally as gone, like on your first road trip as a couple. The five of you rented a lakehouse a few hours from Seoul and spent an entire weekend basking under the hot sun and chose to forget about university stress before finals would inevitably kick everyone’s ass. All five of you were cross-faded (but not without Jay and Sunghoon both prepping water bottles and snacks for when the munchies would hit prior to taking anything). You watched Sunghoon relax to the point where he was much quieter than he normally was and when you asked if he was doing alright, he looked you in the eye and told you he loved you for the first time. 

I always have, I think, he said as he brought your hand to his chest. You might not believe me because neither of us are sober but I swear I’ll tell you in the morning. 

Sunghoon gets affectionate when he’s drunk or high, often to the point of asking for reassurance. The rational side of his brain is temporarily disfigured. You don’t mind being there to tell him that he’s the love of your life and you’d never go anywhere when he gets like this. Although, you’re usually just as gone and gush all of your hidden emotionally-charged feelings, which pair well with Sunghoon’s need for validation sometimes. 

Your friends love your relationship. They don’t think it’s too much or too little, going so far as to take photos of the two of you when you aren’t looking. Some are funny like the pictures of you sleeping on his chest with drool pooling out of your mouth. Others are romantic and whimsical, like the pictures of Sunghoon looking at you like you’re the sunshine to his moonlight. They can’t get enough of you two. Your friends love knowing people they care about are deeply in love with one another and your relationship is somewhat of a reminder that true romance does exist. 

Thinking about this makes your heart swell as you park your car and tuck your keys inside your purse. The bouncer checks your ID and lets you inside the bar, and you already spot Jay off to the side. 

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he gives you a loose hug. “And sorry for waking you up.” 

You wave him off. “It’s fine. I’ve probably woken you up for worse.” 

“Yeah, like the time you and Jake wanted ramen at 3am and wouldn’t stop calling me because both of you got a little too high.” 

“Can you blame us?! You were like, two blocks away.” 

“Yeah, but did you need to eat with me?” 

“Duh. You’re like, the best person to eat a late night dinner with.” 

The two of you laugh as he leads you to the group. You see Sunghoon slumped over the table with his head in his arms and the rest of your friend group tries really hard not to seem too excited when they see you standing next to Jay. 

“Fucking finally.” Heeseung stands and gives you a quick side hug before Jake does the same. “Love you guys and all but he started to become unbearable when he kept showing us photos of you.”

Jake snorts. “Poor guy was almost about to cry.” That makes your heart soft. 

“He looks so cute,” you coo, tilting your head to savor this moment. It’s abnormal for you to be the sober one but you’re starting to understand why Sunghoon doesn’t mind taking care of you when you’re like this. 

Jay comes to stand next to you. “He’s not cute when he drank half his weight in alcohol and wouldn’t shut up about how pretty your hair is.” 

“What, do you don’t think my hair’s pretty?” The messy, unbrushed hair is enough to make the guys laugh. 

“Nah seriously, thanks for coming,” says Jake. “We felt bad calling you but he refuses to get out of his seat.” 

“It’s fine.” You wave him off and step closer to your boyfriend, who still hasn’t moved from his position. 

“Do your thing and we’ll be here if you need help bringing him to the car.” Heeseung smiles gratefully at you. 

Even the back of Sunghoon’s head is unfairly gorgeous. His hair always looks nice, although you credit that to his younger sister introducing him to a world of hair care products during his skating years. It feels soft to the touch as you stroke the back of his head until Sunghoon slowly comes to. You feel his body start to stir.

“Baby,” you say quietly, bending down until you’re next to him. “Wake up for me.” 

“Hm?” Sunghoon mumbles from his arms. He feels the sensation of your fingers carding through his hair and pulls himself from the table, wiping the spit from the corner of his mouth before realizing you’re standing next to him. “Y/N?”

“I’m right here.” 

He pulls his head up until he’s sitting upright in the booth, squinting up at you to adjust to the bar lights that disappeared when he closed his eyes. Your boyfriend looks so innocent like this. He looks at you with a wide, round gaze as if you’d appeared out of thin air and he’s trying his hardest to figure out how you’re standing in front of him. 

“Is it really you?” Sunghoon asks in a quiet voice. His tone makes your heart flutter and you reach your arms out until you’re cupping his jaw and rubbing the pads of your thumbs over his cheeks. Sunghoon melts into your touch and you feel his body start to relax. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, bug. Did you have fun tonight?”

He nods in your hands, “Mhm. Just tired now.”

“Jay said you were asking for me.” 

“I always ask for you.” Your cheeks heat up and you try to ignore the snickers from behind you. 

“Why don’t we go back to my place, yeah? You can sleep in my bed instead of this bar.” 

“Can we? I love the guys but I just missed you.”

“Simp,” Heeseung whispers before coughing into his fist. 

Sunghoon stands from the booth once you’ve taken a step back to give him the space to move. He’s surprisingly able to stand on his own and clutches onto his jacket as he makes his way to the door. 

“Sorry guys,” he mutters to the guys. 

“Yah, it’s fine,” Jay says as he waves Sunghoon off. 

“Get home safe,” Heeseung says as he opens the door for the two of you. Sunghoon waves behind him until you guide him to the car. 

“Can you put your jacket on for me?” You catch it in your hands after he nearly let them fall from his grasp. 

“Shit, sorry.” You watch Sunghoon put on one arm and then the other. He looks so childlike in this moment as he concentrates his hardest to put the jacket on without stumbling. 

It reminds you that he doesn’t show you this side of him often. Sunghoon, ever the poised individual who likes to know what’s ahead of him, has let his inhibitions down. Seeing his figure slowly push his body through the warm fabric has you biting back a smile. 

“Need help?”

Sunghoon looks down at his hands that are trying to zip his jacket up to no avail. He feels like his hands are too big and the zipper is too small. “Please.”

Your steady fingers cover Sunghoon’s and take over the tedious task. The metal is warm from his fingertips. You can feel him looking down at you and you temporarily fumble with the zipper, which makes him laugh.

“Silly,” he mutters. “Ah, fuck. I don’t know if I can open the door.”

You roll your eyes and open it for him. “You’re funny.” 

He slides into the seat as gracefully as he can without hitting his head on the roof. Sunghoon struggles, but manages to buckle himself in and grins up at you when he hears the click of the buckle. When you look down on him, the lamp post from above casts a soft glow on his face. He looks so youthful at this moment. Sunghoon has let go of his thoughts and couldn’t think about anything but the present moment even if he tried. 

He waits for you and mumbles about how cold it is when you turn the engine on. The warm air starts to uplift his spirits and he looks at you with us head pressed to the headrest.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this.”

“What?” you ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Usually I’m the one taking care of you.”

“You don’t always have to be brave, you know.” 

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He reaches out to envelope your hand in his and squeezes it until he’s holding it loosely in the quiet of the evening.

“I love you.” 

Your heart blooms. “I love you right back.” He seems satisfied with your response and lets go of your hand so that you can drive back to your apartment. 

When you park on the curb, Sunghoon’s sober enough to unbuckle his seatbelt and wait for you to turn the engine off before opening his door carefully. He steps outside and leans back on the car door until you walk around the hood of the vehicle and grabs your hands to pull you into him. 

You feel his lips on your before you register what’s happening. He tastes faintly of pineapple soju and beer, and his mouth is warm. Despite his inebriated state, Sunghoon’s able to hold you between his hands as he moves to place them on your hips to balance your body after you’ve stumbled into him. 

The kiss itself is slow. In fact, it feels as though Sunghoon has slowed time around so that the two of you could enjoy the late night kiss uninterrupted. You can barely hear anything besides the ringing in your ears after being caught by surprise due to your boyfriend’s abrupt movements. Your mouths move in slow tandem and Sunghoon nearly pushes his tongue inside your mouth before pulling away to rest his forehead against your own.

“My baby,” he whispers against your lips before giving you another quick peck. 

“You are so cute.” You blurt out this confession like you’re still pining after him. “Let’s go inside, yeah?” 

The apartment is warm compared to the environment outside and Sunghoon slips off his shoes in favor of wearing his designated slippers. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time he does so, letting you pull him into the hallway until the two of you reach your bedroom. The hardwood floors feel better than the uneven pavement from outside.

He loves it here. It’s a sanctuary away from his apartment with the friends he will probably invite to his wedding. But something about your green comforter and hand-painted artwork adorning your walls makes Sunghoon feel like he would live by your side for the rest of his life. The scent of your room–warm peaches and vanilla–tugs at his heart strings. This is where he belongs. 

Likewise, you love seeing Sunghoon behave like this. It’s not commonplace for him to let people take care of him in the way you are now. He’s used to people looking out for his career and best interest but he struggles with allowing others to handle him with such care. After a decade of enduring harsh criticism and physical endurance, Sunghoon struggles to relax and allow others to take the reins. It’s partially why he loves taking care of you. Being able to provide that kind of love and support makes him feel wanted and needed, even if you tell him he’s more than enough a thousand times over. 

You leave him in your room to change his clothes taken from his designated drawer while you prepare skincare and the works. You hear him shuffle outside and fall onto the bed once, prompting you to hold your laughter in as you wash your hands and pull out hair clips for him to use. 

“I can’t lie,” Sunghoon says as you emerge from the bathroom to see him in a big t-shirt and pajama bottoms, “I’m really looking forward to you doing my skincare.” 

You snicker and pull your desk chair into the bathroom. “Now you know exactly how I feel every time I beg you to do mine when I’m drunk. Sit and close your eyes, please.” 

He follows your instructions and leans his back against the furniture. Sunghoon doesn’t fuss when you pin his hair back until it’s secure and allows you to make him feel pampered in a way he typically wouldn’t. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” 

Sunghoon hums. “Yeah, I did. The guys picked me up from my place and we had lunch at that seafood spot we’ve been meaning to try.” 

“Was it any good?”

“So good.” He licks his lips. “God, I’m still thinking about that shellfish soup. We ordered enough food to feed a village but it was so worth it. I wanna go with you.” 

“We can go wherever you want.” He smiles at your soft tone. 

“We also went to the beach and met some guys at the skate park by the highway. They were pretty nice and let us use their boards for a little. Heeseung got along with them the best, I think.”

“Heeseung makes friends with everybody.”

“He says he’s not social but that’s a lie.” Sunghoon twitches his nose when he feels a damp washcloth on his face. “We went to the bar afterwards and split it by round. I got the first and honestly, I don’t remember much after that.” 

“How are you feeling now, though?” you ask as you finish patting his skin dry. “Do you still feel dizzy?” Sunghoon opens his eyes and watches you apply a serum before dabbing it all over his face. 

“Not as much as before. I think I’m just tired.”

“And clingy, apparently.” 

Sunghoon smacks the back of your thighs. “Shut up. You love it.” You silence him by kissing his nose. 

While he brushes his teeth, you situate yourself underneath your plush covers and allow the weight of the blanket to fall on top of you. The sweet promise of a good night’s rest feels imminent, especially when you see your boyfriend emerge from the bathroom. He turns off the light and walks towards the empty side of the bed before he’s slipping himself beside you. 

Sunghoon’s an equal opportunist when it comes to sleeping positions. He loves it the most when your head is on his chest and when your arms are tangled in one another because he likes knowing that the two of you yearn for each other equally. But when he gets like this, Sunghoon takes initiative to maneuver himself until half of his chest and head are on top of you. He situates his arm around your waist and pulls himself closer to your body until a deep, satisfied sigh comes from the back of his throat. 

He hums in appreciation when your fingers begin to massage his scalp. Sunghoon’s hair is soft and silky and on most days, you’re the only person who gets to touch it. The slowness of your movements paired with the soft kiss you place on his temple makes his eyelids feel heavy. 

“Sorry you had to come pick me up,” Sunghoon mumbles against you. “I know we agreed to give each other some space this weekend.” 

“You should know by now that I’d do anything for you.” He feels you kiss the crown of his head. “Plus, we both know you’d do the same for me.” 

Sunghoon nods. “I would. You’re my girlfriend. Duh.” His sleepy nonsense makes you laugh. 

“You can go back to hanging out with the guys tomorrow if you want.” He shakes his head. 

“I want to get breakfast with you.” Sunghoon finds your free hand and presses a sleepy kiss to the back of it. 

“Whatever you want. We can get breakfast.” 

“If we wake up early enough.” 

You laugh again. “Yes, if we wake up early enough.” 

Sunghoon mumbles a few incoherent words that you can’t quite make out because of your own tiredness. When your own eyes start to droop, Sunghoon feels your fingers start to falter and looks up at you to see you’ve fallen fast asleep. 

He kisses the underside of your chin and falls asleep too.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw

Taking one of Simon’s balaclava from the closet, inhaling the lingering musk snd cologne scent while rubbing your pussy needily on the bedsheet. He went on a short mission for a few days, and you missed him, miss how he call you sweetheart with that gruff voice, miss how he sit you on his lap, murmuring sweet nothings while his hand

sneaks pass the waistband of your panties, pinching and flicking your clit to warm you up for his big cock, miss how his veiny and sturdy arms wrap around you while you fall asleep while basking in each other’s presence.

You kiss the balaclava on where his lips should be, but that’s not enough, the ache in your chest leads you to scramble to the closet again, taking out a pair of his skeleton gloves, putting those far-too-large gloves on as you slump down on the bed you two shared again, mimicking how he kneaded and rolled the sweet spot hidden between your slick folds, until you finally reach your high, dampening his gloves with your juices.

You tuck the used balaclava and gloves deep inside a discreet drawer, welcoming Simon back home the next day. He got a crazy amount of gloves and balaclava, sure he wouldn’t notice missing a pair or two, right? You try to convince yourself, till the day you think you finally get a chance to wash those fabric stained with the evidence of your guilty pleasure, that he appears behind you silently and catch you scrubbing them.

You have no one to blame other than yourself when getting put over his knees moments later, pajamas shorts pulled down, ass in the air and whining every time he lands a light slap on your reddened buttocks.

“Think I wouldn’t notice, hmm?” He rubs the spot he just hit gently, soothing that delicious tingle briefly “How many times did you come with my balaclava and my gloves?”

You look back at him, trying to respond with the vibrating dildo deep inside your squelching cunt messing your mind. “One ti-One- ngh…” your incoherentness brings yourself another slap, this time land carefully just above your stretched cunt and on the clit.

“Say it clearly, princess, can’t understand when you’re talking in moans.” Simon rubs your skin after the soft smack again, just like what he did whenever he gives you a teasing slap, but him rolling your over-sensitive bud that just got a sweet slap, only flares up your desire and makes you unable to think straight, his fingers and the dildo occupied your thoughts as you manage to answer more comprehensibly.

“One…only one time…” Your staccato reply receives a feign pity glance from him.

“Only one time? poor girl.” He grabs the base of the vibrating dildo and thrust in and out “Look how you lube this dildo with your juices so well, love. Finally satisfied?”

“No! No…please…” You paw at the bedsheets desperately, happy that he might end his ‘punishment’ soon, yet afraid that you won’t get the thing you truly craved. “Need you, Simon, please…! need you inside”

He grins imperceptibly, though the arrogance in his heart is satiated. That’s what he wants to hear, hear you say out loud about how much you need him, how only him can fuck you in the way others can’t.

Pulling the dildo out, seeing how your cunt grabbing onto it like you try to swallow it back in, he fish out his cock, standing straight and leaking profusely from enjoying the show “No need to feel empty for the lost, sweetheart, you’ll get what you deserve now.”

Simon press the tip of his length at your entrance, looking at you with smugness within those brown eyes, and he knows it’s going to be a long night when you gaze back with droopy eyes, still coming down from the edge, with a bliss-out smile spread across your glossy lips.

[verstappenverse]

What We Never Said

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max Verstappen, your best friend, has always been a constant in your life. But when jealousy surfaces over a recent date, it stirs emotions he hadn’t quite confronted. Is there more between you two than just friendship?

1.9k words / Masterlist

Max had always been good at keeping his cool. On the track where everything is measured in tenths of a second and a moment’s hesitation can cost everything, keeping a level head was what set him apart from the others. But lately away from the track something had been gnawing at him, disrupting his usually unshakeable focus.

It wasn’t new this feeling it had been there for a long time, simmering quietly beneath the surface. Max knew that. He was painfully aware of it in every shared glance, every late-night conversation, and in the way your laugh could instantly pull him out of his darkest moods. For years you’d both kept things easy, uncomplicated, two best friends never crossing the invisible line that tethered you close but never too close.

At least that’s how it was supposed to be.

It wasn’t until a few nights ago when he overheard a casual comment at a party that Max realised how fragile that balance really was.

“I didn’t know you’d gone on a date,” your friend had said her voice light and teasing.

Max wasn’t eavesdropping intentionally he had been halfway through a conversation with another driver when the words hit him like a punch to the gut. He barely registered what was being said to him after that. His attention had been locked on you, watching the subtle shift in your posture as you casually replied.

“Yeah,” you said, like it was nothing. “We went for dinner and drinks, it was really nice...he was nice.”

Max’s hand had tightened around his drink. Nice. The word grated against Max’s nerves. The conversation around him faded into white noise as his mind fixated on what you hadn’t said, on what you’d kept from him. A date? You’d gone on a date? Since when did you go on dates without mentioning it to him? It felt like the ground beneath him had shifted, like something fundamental had changed, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

For the rest of the evening Max stayed quiet his usual easy-going demeanour replaced by something darker, something more brooding. You didn’t seem to notice or if you did, you didn’t bring it up. But every time he looked at you all he could think about was someone else sitting across from you, someone else making you laugh, someone else getting to know the parts of you that Max had always believed were his to cherish.

-------------------

He thought about it more than he should have over the following days, a slow burn of frustration and confusion twisting in his chest. It wasn’t that he had a claim over you but there had always been something unspoken between the two of you, and hearing about you with someone else, someone who wasn’t him, made it feel like everything was slipping through his fingers.

Max found himself at your door days later, heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the adrenaline of racing. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say only that the unresolved tension between you needed addressing.

The door opened and there you were, smiling like always, the kind that usually made his stomach flip, but today it only made him more tense. “Hey you,” you greeted stepping aside to let him in.

He walked in without hesitation, but his usual ease was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t been able to shake the image of you with someone else. Max had tried to push it down, to convince himself that it was none of his business. You were your own person, free to do whatever – or whomever – you wanted. But the truth was, it did bother him. A lot more than he cared to admit.

He dropped onto your couch more tense than he’d been in weeks. You sat down next to him, your brow furrowing as you picked up on his mood. Max was many things, but unreadable was not one of them. He wore his emotions on his sleeve and right now you could sense the storm brewing behind his usually calm exterior. His jaw was clenched, and you could see the tension radiating off of him in waves.

“What’s up with you?” you asked, tone light but probing. “You seem… off.”

He wanted to shrug it off, say it was nothing, but the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t pretend anymore, not with you.

Instead he turned toward you, his blue eyes sharp “Why didn’t you tell me you went on a date?”

Your expression shifted subtly, surprise, then confusion trying to place his tone, “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

A beat of silence passed, Max could hear the faint hum of the city outside your apartment window, but inside, the air felt thick weighted with something unsaid.

“I overheard you the other night,” he continued, his voice rougher than he intended.

You blinked, processing his words. “You overheard?”

Max nodded, watching you closely waiting for some kind of explanation that would ease the knot in his chest. But you just sat there, not defensive, not guilty, just calm.

You hadn’t kept it from him on purpose. In fact you didn’t even think it was that big of a deal. The date had been fine, nice, but nothing extraordinary, certainly not enough to warrant telling Max about it right away.

“It wasn’t anything serious,” you said after a long pause. “Just dinner. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

Max exhaled sharply running a hand through his hair. “And if it had been serious?”

Now you were even more confused. Your eyes met his then, a flicker of something passed between you. “Why does it matter?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why did it matter? He wasn’t your boyfriend. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what he was anymore, except confused. Maybe a little scared. The kind of fear that sinks deep, the kind that makes you realise you’ve been taking something for granted.

“Because it does,” he muttered quietly, his voice tight.

You leaned back slightly, studying him. There was something different about the way you looked at him now, more attuned to whatever was hanging between you. You’d always known that Max was protective of you, but this? This was something else entirely.

“You’ve never cared before,” you said, your voice quieter now, like you were piecing together a puzzle neither of you had fully acknowledged.

Max hesitated then sighed. “Maybe I should’ve.”

The words were out before he could stop them, and they hung in the air, heavier than anything he’d ever admitted to you before.

You didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched, uncomfortable in a way that it never had been between the two of you. And then, after what felt like an eternity you leaned forward resting your elbows on your knees hands clasped in front of you.

“Is that what this is all about? Me going on a date and not telling you?” You paused, your eyes searching his face,“Or is it something else?”

He didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Because of course it was something else. It had always been something else. He just hadn’t let himself admit it not until now, not until the idea of you with someone else had thrown everything into sharp, painful focus, and maybe that wasn't fair but he didn't know how he could go back now.

Max stood, pacing the length of your living room his mind racing. “I don’t know,” he finally muttered, though it was a lie. He did know. He just wasn’t sure how to say it, cross the line you’d both been skirting around, to take years of friendship and lay it bare without ruining everything.

“Max,” you said softly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “Look at me.” You needed to hear him say it. You needed to know if what you felt for him was mutual or if you were reading too much into this.

He stopped pacing but didn’t turn around right away. His fists clenched at his sides, and for the first time in a long time, Max felt completely out of control. It wasn’t like driving where every move was calculated, where he could read the car, the track, the competition with precision. This was messier, rawer, and there was no strategy for it.

Finally, he turned to face you his blue eyes meeting yours. There was no running from it anymore, no pretending that what he felt for you was anything less than what it really was.

“I didn’t like it,” he said quietly, the admission catching in his throat. “Hearing you talk about him… I hated it.”

You didn’t look away but your eyes softened, your expression still guarded.

“Why?” you asked, though your tone told him you already knew the answer.

Max let out a shaky breath. “Because… I’ve always wanted it to be me.”

The confession hung in the air, and for the first time with you Max felt truly exposed, vulnerable. The invisible line between you two, the one he’d always danced around, was gone.

All the emotions you’d been burying for so long, all the feelings you’d tried to convince yourself weren’t there, came rushing to the surface.

You walked toward him slowly, and for a moment, Max wasn’t sure what you were going to say, but when you reached him you didn’t say anything. Instead you just looked at him, really looked at him, like you were seeing him in a way you hadn’t before.

“I’ve always wanted it to be you, too,” you whispered, the words so soft he almost missed them.

“I didn’t want to ruin things between us,” Max continued, “I didn’t want to lose you. But hearing about you with someone else… it made me realise that maybe I’ve already lost you and I didn’t even know it.”

You took a step closer to him your heart pounding in your chest. “You haven’t lost me."

His heart clenched, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, gently cupping your face with his hand. Your skin was warm beneath his palm and for the first time in days the tension in his chest eased slightly.

You didn’t pull away, you stepped closer eyes never leaving his. It was as if all the years of unspoken tension between you had finally come to a head, and neither of you could ignore it anymore.

He leaned in, slowly, cautiously, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. And when his lips finally met yours it was like everything he hadn’t been able to say, everything he’d been holding back for years, poured into that kiss.

It wasn’t hurried or desperate. It was slow, deliberate, a moment stretched out between two people who had spent too long pretending they didn’t want this. Max’s arms wrapped around you as the kiss deepened, but still, there was a softness to it a tenderness that spoke of the years of friendship, of trust.

When the kiss broke, you both stood there inches apart breathing in the moment. Max's hand lingered on your cheek his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You know,” you whispered, smiling against his lips teasing, “this is probably something you should’ve told me ages ago.”

Max let out a soft laugh, his forehead resting against yours. “Yeah, well” he said, his voice low and teasing back, “I guess this means I can stop pretending I’m okay with you dating other people now," you laughed softly as he smirked "but I wasn’t too worried, everything’s about timing isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you murmured, your lips brushing his. “I guess you got it right.”

"Finally," he whispered with a grin, before pulling you into another kiss.

[kosher-salt]

Just saw a post that was basically "Hey off of the internet people usually aren't so crazy antisemitic and most of my day to day interactions as a visible Jew are normal, everything is gonna be ok" and I'm making a new post to not derail, but...

I'm super glad, obviously, that this is the case for many of you. But I do think we should be ringing the alarm bells. Because while you enjoy your grocery trips and post office in relative peace (as you ought to), here is a VERY incomplete list of things I have dealt with in the last 11 months.

-assaulted on my way to class, followed, spit on repeatedly (magen David necklace)

-professor took me outside of class and told me I needed to denounce my Judaism (I mentioned in passing my dad's family in an anthropology class)

-same professor refused to accept my final paper for reasons that did not match up with paper, email full of dogwhistles

-same professor told everyone to attend the protests and "teach those zionists to know their place" she is a Black Latina young professor. Yep.

-another professor straight up refused to accept any assignments that mentioned Jewishness (they were assignments about our families). Gave a student who submitted nothing except a picture of a Palestinian flag full marks. Failed me. I am an all As student, btw. Forced to drop.

-the chair of the anthropology department threw my complaints wabout said professors away without due process. His social media is full of blood libel.

-had to miss my finals as I could not physically get to them due to the protests

-followed and harassed in stores

-synagogue was vandalized multiple times

-called a kike while things were thrown at me

-protestors stood outside of my apartment patio with final solution signs

-new apartment, away from campus: friends of roommates harassed me constantly, to the point I could not use common spaces. Roommates told me that's his right because it's his "political view." He didn't even live there.

-new roommate moved in, less than 48 hours before she attempts to stab me, after learning I eat kosher style. "...kosher? kosher?! FUCK YOU" stab stab, etc. Bitch that was my good knife.

-the other roommates tell me to gtfo of the home I'm renting, keeping my rent ("you people can afford to lose money") and destroy a good portion of my belongings while cursing to me random nonsense about Israel. The police took 25 minutes to get there. We live in the middle of the city.

-fun fact: I had never mentioned my political stance to these people and it's not on my face-out social media (very bare bones profiles)

-been disbelieved by everyone I told this to including the police, my school, the leasing company, and my now ex best friend of 7 years

-cursed at in a store when I asked if there was a kosher section

-told nobody likes Jews because we bring down the vibe and have a victim complex. My knuckles are healing just fine after that, btw, thank you for asking! She is not.

I don't know how to request the 7th off from my school without basically incriminating myself with a threat of violence. There is no world where I just sit there when a classmate says "happy October 7th."

Hope this helps.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - So the hunt begins.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader. Omega has a shotgun, I REPEAT, Omega has a shotgun. Mentions of violence.

Prologue Chapter 1

The others looked at Gaz like he had finally lost his marbles but only Soap was the one to speak up and say, "Ye've gone and lost yer mind."

Gaz shook his head and grabbed Soap's wrist, forcing him to kneel down and smell the old blood. He waited for his reaction and Soap sat back, his cold blue eyes wide.

"A 'mega out here? After all this time..." Soap looked to Price and Ghost who both exchanged looks. Price rolled his shoulders and Ghost seemed to relax just a little.

"Well, if there is one we should go and find them," Price finally said.

"And where would that be?" Soap asked but his eyes had already trailed over to the forest at the edge of the town. Large enough to hide a place for an omega to hide.

You triple checked the trap you just set, making sure the string was hidden and that it was ready to go off for the poor alpha's that made the mistake of coming onto your land. Your territory had been littered with traps for years though some had gone into disrepair due to your own negligence.

No matter, you thought as you layered more leaves on top to conceal the pit below, you're sure you'll get them with this.

Back when libraries hadn't been mere ruins with musty, rain ruined books you had developed a small fascination with the tactics and traps the Vietnam soldiers had left for the American ones. Nasty, down right awful traps but they drove America out of their country and you were intent to do the same to these alphas.

But even as you thought about the harm you would bring down upon them like a vengeful goddess, your inner omega had started to awaken more. She scratched and whined at the idea of there not only being one but four alphas near by. After years of nothing but your own fingers and the old dildo, your inner omega was desperate for something.

Yet, there was also confliction.

Yes, the deep seeded desire to be bred by four burly alphas was there but also a certain feral aspect bubbled closer to the surface. This is our land, your omega hissed, ours and they've entered it. We smelt them. They haven't left. She pushed you to make more traps, set deadlier ones.

An agreement had been made, or a compromise. Get the alpha's off your land and if one of them survived, keep him. What the next step would be, neither you or your omega had thought about that. Or if all of them survived.

A twig snapped to your left and it yanked you from your thoughts immediately. You hastily covered the trap further before you scrambled up a near by tree and waited. You fought to scratch at the dried mud caked onto your scent glands. It was damn near stifling. Worse then the stuffing in your nose.

You waited, heart pounding in your chest as you kept listening for more signs. Nothing. You let yourself breathe again and slide down from the tree you had perched in. Then you heard them, eight feet tramped down snow and broke twigs under their weight.

They were so loud.

You turned your head just in time to see a hat above a fern and a peak of something black behind it. Your hand found your shotgun with practiced ease and you stepped back and over your trap for more protection. Then they emerged from the bushes.

May the strongest alpha win

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[katyspersonal]

Someone really said we shouldn't take Messmer's last words ( when he cursed Marika) seriously because he was demonically possessed by the abyssal serpent ijbol

I do not think that it was the case either! My impression from his phase transition was more of him finally giving into his serpentine nature, and thus, finally allowing himself to feel his true feelings!

"Hatred that would be confined" here can mean both him hating himself (since fire is a hazard to the Erdtree, evidenced by Fire of Ruin and Destined Death, so why not his?) OR hating her for having forsaken him! Except... they are not mutually exclusive. He could have hated himself for existing as something that could inevitably bring ruin to everything she created and hated her for abandoning him!

Like other characters in the DLC, he is aware that we've been called by Grace of Gold, her creation, to become her new Lord! Nonetheless, he decides to still disrespect what counts as her wishes, which already gives something away, at least for me. It could be that him taking Crusade beyond just vengeance, to fascism level, WAS what split them apart, and he is still convinced he knew what was better for purity and life of her Order better than her (LOOOOVE this version because it makes him even scarier). It could be jealousy, because some nobody Tarnished would get the chance to fix things for her when he tried to do the same and yet she was not "grateful". It could be that this "purpose" he took up for her feels like the only thing still connecting them, since she is not coming back. It could be many things that I can keep listing!

Yet, at the same time, he asks her forgiveness before removing the seal! So, killing someone he (correctly) believes she is awaiting is a lesser crime than removing the seal she gave to him to keep Base Serpent away? I think it is very telling that the root of how much he hates his flame is her hatred of it.

( x ) Perhaps, by being deadset on killing everyone spurn of her grace, he sort of overcompensates for how much he hates himself for being graceless (in a way, 'shorn of light' is very blatant)... He can't fix his nature, nor can she, but he could remove her OTHER pains and grudges. He is compensating!.. like, for how much he wishes to never having been born, or something...

Damn this got weirdly sad And a simpler interpretation is that it was just a cry of pain, because he was dying and she was not there for him. Or maybe it was the horror of feeling like he was to fall into Abyss, since he removed the seal? Not that I ever died in my life yet, but I'd imagine that thoughts and emotions upon violent death would not be very rational!

I really want some help with Japanese description of this item, because this "but never again" feels like some sort of grudge. Like that she realised it was useless; not so much because what afflicted him was untreatable, but because she deemed him not worthy of any more chances! You see what I mean! Again, English choices of words should be taken with a grain of salt.

Messmer also was not "possessed" by Base Serpent, he became Base Serpent! Saying you will be taken in jaws by a serpent shorn of light, he means himself! He has a habit of addressing himself in third face already, saying that you will meet death in the embrace of "Messmer's" flame, not "his" flame! There is definitely some parallel with Malenia unleashing Scarlet Rot again just to not lose to us, but whereas Scarlet Rot is confirmed to eat away at people's personality and memories (Millicent's questline), nothing said it was the case for the Base Serpent!

(Images by Zlofsky as usual) All statues of Marika in the Lands Between are missing heads... except for one, depicting her as a mother holding a child, hidden in his chamber by a veil. I need to check it later, but in at least three cases it makes no sense to be this way: one in the Church of the Crusade where Queelign hangs out, another surrounded by his soldiers, and another in Shadow's Keep itself! UNLESS, he is the one responsible for crashing the images of her head...?

It feels like he has been very conflicted long before this dreadful moment of unleashing his serpentinge nature! He did not want to think of her because it hurt, but also still wished to be held by her again. Considering the statues, it feels like he hated her as a Goddess, but loved her as a mother. So, he hates her divine existence, her as an owner of the Erdtree, a "destined victim" of all fires, but also knows it can't be separated from her and follows her design. Perhaps, follows TOO much.

Basically it IS a reasonable assumption that upon his death, he's been feeling as though he did everything he could for her, but that was not enough for her to see beyond her fear! Worse yet: she did try to love him, but "never again"! Hatred of abandoned child is a very intense thing, but it is also not a true hatred. It is more akin to cry for being accepted, but distorted into insults, curses, pushing away and such!

^^^ If this doesn't look like Humanity running wild manifestation of someone's own repressed self-hatred, loneliness and suffering getting unleashed I don't know what does fdhfdhs I don't know, man... I just think there is more evidence for the fact that he's been suffering because of her.

[kirain]

Astarion frowned as he and Tav entered the modest boutique. It was small, but clean; organised. It had an almost rustic charm to it, featuring large windows adorned with delicate lace curtains, which were tied back just enough to let the sun shine through. That was appreciated, as Astarion had grown weary of the dark.

He said nothing as his cheery companion scanned the outfits on the walls, cupping her chin as she considered and rejected each one. Carefully curated as they were, she seemed to be looking for something specific. The soft beams accentuated racks of unique frocks, hand-knitted sweaters, and artisanal jewelry, but she passed them all by.

Why did she bring me to this rundown shack?

Astarion huffed. Has she noticed how old my clothes are? No, she's not that perceptive.

His eyes widened as her finger suddenly pointed at some lingerie behind the shopkeeper's counter. His heart sank.

Of course ... she wants to dress me in something risqué. Expose my body. Why am I not surprised? There's nothing more "sexy" than a vampire, after all. He bit the tip of his thumb, feigning indifference. So in the end, she's just like all the others. A horny, selfish little—!

"No, no! Not that!" she laughed. "The one beside it."

Astarion flinched, trying to hide his shock as the shopkeeper passed her a plain ashmeadow outfit. It wasn't particularly bright or stylish, but the pattern was subtle, casually elegant, and paired with lightweight trousers, likely designed to ease movement.

"What do you think?" she asked, unfolding the pieces for a better view. "Doesn't it look nice and comfy?"

Astarion hesitated. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised every inch. Overall, the outfit was dull, at least compared to his usual garb, but pleasant in all the ways that mattered. It wouldn't grab attention, but it wasn't hideous. It wouldn't make a spectacle of his body, but it would complement his figure, his hair, his eyes. For one brief moment, he felt oddly respected, but he quickly recoiled in mistrust.

Is this a trick?

He quickly waved at the suggestion, bidding the shopkeeper to take the outfit away, but Tav clung to it, staying his hand.

"Wait, what's wrong with it? You don't like it?"

"I appreciate your confidence in me, darling, but I don't think even I could make that dreary ensemble look good. That's something you'd see a pig farmer wearing." He gave her a seductive grin. "Surely you'd like to see me in something more ... exotic."

Disgusting, but I need her protection. Just fuck me, already. Get it over with. Why the song and dance? Why the charade? Am I not being forward enough? Perhaps I should should try the 'lonely bachelor' angle. That tends to work on sensitive women like this.

Tav raised a brow, her confusion genuine, but Astarion didn't believe it. He couldn't.

"No, I just think this suits you," she said.

Astarion scoffed, thrown by her sincerity. There was no hint of sarcasm or trickery in her tone. No indication that she was fulfilling some mundane kink by picking such an outfit. But it didn't make sense. He hadn't been particularly kind to her, and he was only good for one thing: sex. Surely that's what she was after.

"Did you not hear what I said?" he snapped. "That's something a pig farmer—"

"What's wrong with being a pig farmer?" she argued. "They work hard, live free, and dress for comfort."

"And I'll have you know, that outfit is not for farming," the shopkeeper added, visibly offended. "I mean, I suppose you could. It's certainly durable, but it's more for ... sophisticated roving."

"There you go," Tav giggled, harmlessly. "Don't you want to be a 'sophisticated rover', Astarion?"

He pulled back defensively, pursing his lips to hide his fangs. They live free? Dress for comfort? As if I ever had such a choice. She has no idea! His fingers curled into a fist.

"Are you ... mocking me? Is that what this is?"

Am I just a toy to you?! A doll to be dressed up to your liking?!

The air around him felt charged, a palpable tension that made it difficult to breathe. A deep red flush spread across his neck, creeping up towards his pale face. The anger was sudden, but uncontrollable, and he didn't know why.

Calm down, you fool. This is nothing. You've been through worse. He screamed internally. So then, why does it hurt more than usual? Why is it worse when it's her?! I ... I don't want her to see me this way, but I know she does! Who wouldn't?!

"Mocking you?" Tav asked, breaking the silence.

She tilted her head, the simple act pulling Astarion from is raging stupor. Her eyes were innocent, unassuming. And of course they were—he hadn't yet told her the truth about Cazador. The details. The depravity.

Hold on. Is this ... real?

"What are you saying?" she peeped. "I brought you here because of how worn out your clothes are." She pointed at the seams of his waistcoat. "Thin with crooked replacement stitches. I always see you fiddling with them."

Astarion's throat tightened. So she did notice. He tried not to blush.

"I'm sorry if that came off the wrong way. I wasn't trying to insult your clothes, I just thought you might like something new."

"I ... see."

"If you don't like the black and white..." She smiled and gestured to the shopkeeper. "We can order something with colour. Do you take commissions? Can my friend here make alterations?"

Friend?

"He can. And we do indeed sew to order, but it might take a while. I'm down a seamstress this month."

Astarion paused, their voices fading. He looked down at the sleeved tunic and accompanying vest that Tav held close to her chest. It was thick, surprisingly well crafted, and more fashionable than he initially dared to admit. For a moment, he felt his unbeating heart flutter. New clothes. A whole outfit, just for him. He'd forgotten what that felt like. What shopping for anything other than a victim for Cazador felt like.

Against his better judgement, he reached out and rubbed the material between his fingers. Twill. Handcrafted. Warm. He felt a tingle as he realised Tav didn't choose that outfit at random. She'd put a lot of thought into it.

"I want this one."

"Sorry?" Tav said, glancing up at him.

"This outfit." He tugged at the sleeve, gently. "I want this one."

She smiled. "Are you sure? You didn't seem overly thrilled about it a second ago."

"Tch! Well, I changed my mind," he hissed. "What can I say?" His eyes softened. "It's grown on me. Just like your ... annoyingly infectious positivity."

"Alright, alright," she laughed, ignoring his jibe. "Can you ring this up, sir?"

Astarion's back stiffened as she reached for her coin purse. Money, right. That hadn't crossed his mind. As horrible as Cazador was, everything was provided. When allowed to sleep on a bed, it was there. When Cazador's guests wanted wine, it was there. Anything needed to rope in victims was given. He hadn't had to buy anything in nearly two hundred years.

"Wait, I—"

"It's no problem," Tav said, sensing his conflict. "I'm happy to do this."

"But..." He frowned, crossing his arms. "Well, don't expect anything back. If that's what you're after, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

"I don't expect anything back, Astarion." She handed the shopkeeper a roll of gold coins, then turned to him with another tender smile. "I'm just glad to help out a friend."

Astarion stood in silence, his brow twitching. A thought occurred to him—two words he hadn't felt the desire to say in two centuries. Two words he'd almost forgotten. He shifted from side to side, looking anywhere but at her, desperate for an escape from the vulnerability pressing down on him.

But I think she truly means it.

"I..."

His mouth opened, then closed again. He cleared his throat, trying to speak, but the silence lingered. He could tell she expected nothing, but for once he wanted to give a part of himself, by choice. Just a few words. The feeling inside him grew, a swell of gratitude he couldn't quite contain. Finally, he sighed and met her eyes with a smile.

"Thank you."

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Now hear me out,what if. What if we did get Sent back to our world. But. Our monke was sent with us. Pretty please 👉👈🥺 We gotta fuel the shenanigans of things somehow. I wanna see him get whiplash from both technology and culture shock. We've been nice to our boi for a good while,it's time to bully him finally.

When you both wake up in the middle of the city, with people standing, asking if there was a con around or something, you know that you both are in something big.

You needed to find a good hiding place, but you knew what was happening: you and the Destined One were now in your own world.

The buzzling city, the cars, the technology—everything made his poor brain scrumble. You cane from this?! This chaos?!

The smell for him is difficult to handle, the absence of trees, and the strange behavior of the people...

///

"This is...your home?"

"Yup."

Hiding in a tree, the two of you admired the small portion of the city that the park hallowed you to observe. While you remembered what it feels like to breathe the same air where you were born, Yuán Fèn couldn't take his eyes off the palace in the distance.

"Are those... pagodas?"

"Oh no, those are skycrapers. People live and work there."

"Oh..."

Everything was out standing. And the mortal did it without the help of gods or others! They did it themselves! He gasped again, his tail swaving excited.

"We should go now! ...Maybe you can finally meet my family!"

///

That's your plan...until you find out what's really happened to you.

You were wondering if the car that had crashed into you was some sort of allucination or something like that, but when you reached your home, you could feel all the pain that you hadn't felt the day of the accident.

When you knocked at your door, you guessed that your mother could feel dizzy. After your disappearance of months, what you didn't expect was her tò Just faint on your porch, right in front of you and Yuán Fèn. You both were able to bring her into her room, and after that, you started to notice a pattern that scared you.

While Yuán Fèn tried to make her come back from the world of the living, you noticed the door of your room locked; many of your photos were missing from the usual spot. And there, in the living room, a photo of you at your prom, in an intricate frame. Written in silver ink, the lines "in loving memory.".

You really wanted to faint at that moment.

///

It feels so strange looking at your own grave. You guessed that they would you in this one particular spot. It was a family place there.

"I told them that I wanted to be cremated."

Yuán Fèn was more interested in trying to decipher your mental state. You were just there, watching at your own photo. He felt so strange... so that was what Mitraya meant when he said you were rebuking everything in your real world by choosing him. He looked again at that stone block, your name carved in there... then moved away.

"Okay, I think I'm in need of... What are you doing?!"

You spotted him taking a few flowers from one spot to another.

"Playing respect!"

"To Who?!"

Then, with the small bouquet in his hand, he put the flowers in the small pot near your photo. 

"..oh ..." That was the only word that you said after that.

///

Three things were clear to you:

1) Going back to Mount Huaguo was the priority;

2) You needed to find some money since you were basically broke;

3) Need to keep the monkey away from every electrical device.

The first one was based more on a sense of morality. After all, you made a choice, and that was the choice to stay in that world full of magic because you fell in love with the destined one and a simple cane back home wasn't enough to move you. 

Not to mention that you have nothing that came back anymore, so...

The second, hard but not that much. You have nowhere to go, so you were forced to stay in a cheap and very not so sanitary motel that you both found. 

Luck were your side because that place needed someone that could clean or fix staff and you two? We're the masters at fixing staff...sorta.

But the third one...oooh boy...

///

You were drinking coffee, how much did you miss it, trying to schedule the next day of work for you and Yuán Fèn. You could clearly hear him doing something in the small kitchenette, moving staff, putting them somewhere, opening things, cutting them...

Then you heard the roar of that old blender that you both found around.

" DARLING?" You used your very sweet tone, a sign that you were expecting the worst for him. "What are you doing?!"

"Nothing."

"That doesn't sound like a -"

And there, in front of you, he putted a very strangely colored liquid, viscous, and with some strange objects floating here and there.

"What Is It?"

"A bunch of staff!"

"I know that; it's clearly a bunch of different staff."

"You should try it, then talk!"

"I genuinely want it five meters away from me."

"Suit yourself!" And then, in your horror, he proceeded to drink the staff. 

///

After days of adjusting and trying to get used back to the modern world, when you both got inside your shared room and found no one but Maitreya himself, you both got a huge shock. You don't know what was the most unrecognizable scene—the actual boy in the room or the fact that he was reading a comic book that talked about the Monkey King or the Yankees cap in his head.

And he just waved! Like nothing! 

He decided to give some explanation, but the most important was why you were sent there and how to. come back.

The first was more for the two of you. After your decision, you decided to leave your world behind, but you did know what that really meant? He wanted to know that and gave you a free way out, a small taste of your original world, and the thought that even this could sway you away from the destined one, and he received a slap on his head by you, and he admitted he deserved it. Another test of loyalty? They really believed you were so easy?!

Well, many were before you...

As for coming back, it was easy, of course! Did he not do it himself right now? 

When you and Yuán Fèn looked at each other, Happy Tò was able to finally come back to Mount Huaguo, but you were stopped by the kid.

"You have to finish your schedule this week! And, oh, won't it be better if you gave a notice?"

How the heck did he know these things?!

"Aaand," he continued, holding an old toaster, "explain to me this little miracle."

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy

@everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @sleepingdramaqueen

@certifiedsimpinggalore @cromboloni

@masksandfeathers @cinnamonroll-anon

@justrandomlypassing @cute-angi

@luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor

@phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa

@kirax-the-lazy-girl. @sleepydang

@weaverworks @kishimiest

@marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire

[inkonparchment]

there's a man in the woods | Leon Kennedy

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

summary: everything changes when you find a man beaten, bruised and bleeding half to death in the woods.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: horror imagery. unsettling themes. mentions/description of blood, organs, guns. canon-typical violence. injuries. slow burn. eventual romance. hurt/comfort. plot armour goes crazy. language.

a/n: happy reading my dears.

series masterlist

Chapter 6

You heave the axe over your head, bringing it down with full force, splitting the erect log into equal halves, the blade sticking into the wooden stump below with a loud thunk sound. Sweat collects in your brows, rubbing your face into the sleeve of your shirt to wipe it off. A foot up to keep the stump in place, you force the axe out and replace another log in its steed. Your arms feel stiff, like taut cables running up and down, tightened in places. You roll your shoulders, trying to rid them off some their tension before continuing your ignored chores.

The sun is blaring down today, happy to take its spot high in the sky, beating down heat onto your back. You fight the urge to shuck off your long sleeved shirt, wanting to work in your usual attire of tank top but the knowledge of not being alone anymore snaps you out of your daze. You readjust your grip on the handle, tightening both palms around it and bringing it back up to your head again. You grit your teeth, mind flashing back to the upturn of the carpet from yesterday, and swing.

The axe deviates from its central aim, unequally dividing the log and lodging itself deeper. Your breaths come in heaving pants now. All the overthinking you had done yesterday did not seem to be enough, still finding yourself incessantly thinking about it. Your brain had been kind enough to offer you multiple scenarios to justify the supposed disturbance of your usual furniture but nothing seemed to satisfy you. You weren’t even out for that long and with how Leon’s leg was progressing, stairs would have been the last thing on his mind and you’d have certainly caught him in the act.

The breath hitches in your throat; unless he was pretending.

You glance up towards the porch of your cabin, a bead of sweat trickling down your temple, eyes adjusting to the bright sun, squinting to find Leon sitting on your worn out chair, shifting restlessly in it, surely unable to find a comfortable stance. Luna sits next to him, one ear up in curiosity and watching him carefully with a tilt of her head. He says something to her you can’t make out, watching his bangs move as he blows air at them in frustration. You watch as Luna inches forward to his outstretched hand, tail wagging as she allows him to scratch her head.

Tearing your eyes away from them, you wrench the axe out, staggering back a few steps, not anticipating how harshly you had pulled. Maybe you had unknowingly pulled the corner of the carpet when you had come back from the walk, or maybe it had happened earlier in the day. You steal another glance up to Leon, uncertainty brewing in your stomach at how familiar he was behaving around Luna. Should you call her to you? Or was this a sign to consider him to be someone you could trust.

You shake your head, continuing to chop more firewood. Thwack!

You couldn’t even go and check, to throw open the cellar door and inspect every speckle of dust just to see if it was out of place. You may as well drag Leon down there yourself, offering him a grand tour of the place, showcasing every piece of possession down there. He had not acted suspiciously all day, no indication of anything he had done to make every single alarm in your head go off.

If you were brave enough you would have been standing over his head, demanding answers, right from the beginning. But so afraid of what you might find, you don’t. Instead finding it better and easier to stick your head down in hopes that he will leave from your life like how he had arrived; in an instant. You hope that he isn’t a manifestation of your guilt, some karmic retribution thrown in your lap as the heavens sneer down at you.

You kick away the stray piece of wood, making to grab another log. It feels softer under your touch, the bark breaking away under the slight pressure of your fingertips. Strong odour greets your nostrils as you jerk it away from your face. You twist it around to find a dark, burrowed hole. Rot, eating away the pulp and leaving it hollow. You throw it away, far from the fresh ones so it does not spread.

The scraping sound of metal against wood, snaps your head up to Leon where he’s dragging the chair a few inches forward, kindly assisted by Luna who nudges the seat from the back. Heat flares in your chest, burning to your toes, unable to tell if its due to his blatant ignoring of your various warnings of ripping his stitches or the way Luna seems to have adjusted to him so quickly.

So you pick whichever is easiest to explain.

“Stop moving around!” You snap, trying to glare at him but finding it difficult against the bright sun, “You’ve only just begun to heal and you’re going to set back whatever progress you’ve made.”

Leon gives you a sheepish look, settling back into the chair, “Sorry, it’s just that I’m feeling a little restless.”

Yes, you know. His damn walking stick had woken you up unceremoniously from sleep, racing down the stairs like a mad person only to find the contents of his side table scattered on the floor. The look on his face was deep in apology, saying that he was just walking back from the washroom, clearly underestimating the distance he had left to cover. You had inched away quickly from the room, registering the thin veil of your clothes, the cold air making goosebumps erupt on your skin. But not before telling him to be up in the morning for a change of pace. Your heart was still pounding when you had gone back to your room, mind abuzz and trying to dissuade yourself that no, you had simply imagined Leon’s lingering gaze on you.

You set the axe down, leaning against the handle, “It’s why you’re outside. Watch the pretty birds or whatever.”

He scoffs at that, averting his eyes to give Luna a scratch behind her ear. You watch his lips move, unable to comprehend what he’s saying.

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing,” He’s quick to answer, glancing at the axe in your hand. “I could help you with that, you know.”

You shrug your shoulders in frustration, beginning to collect the chopped firewood. Why does he keep saying that? You don’t need his help, you’re capable, you’re fine. You don’t need to fall into the comfort of relying on someone. You can do this – have been doing this for a while now. Alone. By yourself, for yourself. Because he will leave as he is allowed to by the divine decree that will deliver onto him the wood and the tools needed to escape your island of isolation, forgetting you once he passes the hazy fog.

“No,” You grumble, wrapping the cloth around the logs and trudging up to the stairs, purposefully avoiding looking at him. The chair scrapes as you near, Luna pattering aside to give way, a shadow falling over you and stopping you from moving further.

You look up to see him towering over you, one hand gripping the railing and the other reaching out to you, palm open. You feel your throat dry up when his steely blue eyes land on yours, piercing as they seem to look through you. And it unsettles you, again. The familiar sensation of your skin ripping apart open at his mere glance returns, like the divine hands that crafted you breaking you open piece by piece to reveal your truth.

You stare at his palm instead, hanging your head low. You find another scar there, this one jagged and long across his palm. And it almost feels vulnerable, his hurt more visible than yours but still he stands, the hand that once suffered open to offer help. And suddenly you feel yourself overcome with the desire to trace the scar, for your fingers to softly graze his skin and to feel every bump and callouses that litters his hand. You want to feel his warmth seep into your bones, hoping to take away some of his pain.

Luna’s quiet little bark shakes you out of your thoughts, coughing uncomfortably as you hope your voice comes out as natural, “What?”

“Give it here,” Leon speaks gently, gesturing to the load in your hands, “You’ve done enough.”

“No, come on-”

Leon descends one step down, shutting you up as he crowds in your space, making your heart stutter. All you can do is stare, watching as his face comes closer to yours, enough that you can see the soft freckles decorating his face. Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes stuck on the way his features have melted in softness. You can’t look away, drinking in his expression to your fill, desperately trying to quench a thirst that you don’t understand.

The weight disappears from your arms, Leon turning around and limping his way back inside with Luna trotting on his heels, leaving you standing on the stairs. A gust of wind breezes past, enveloping you in its sweet scent.

You follow him in, stopping at a distance to see Leon depositing the wood in the basket next to the fireplace in the living room. You watch as he picks one up waving it at Luna as she begins to wag her tail in excitement, following it with her eyes. He throws it gently at a distance, with an enthusiastic fetch! Luna bounds towards it happily, grabbing it and bringing it back to him with her head held high, feeling ecstatic at the generous head scratches she receives in return.

You don’t know when you start smiling, cheeks protesting at the unfamiliar movement, a sudden fullness flooding your heart. It grows wider when Luna approaches you, tail wagging and ears up in request for sharing in her joy. And you do, crouching down to her level, putting your arms around her neck and burying your nose in her fur. She shares in your joy, sitting down as you pat her, glancing up to Leon. And he’s already watching you warmly, arms folded across his chest.

Shyness takes over, surprised that emotions that you buried deep so long ago are making reappearances, the wide grin replaced with a small upturn of your lips. You become hyperaware of the visual you must be providing; sweaty and dirty. And you can barely meet your gaze with him as you pass him by muttering a “I’ll go wash up”, feeling your heart hammer again in your chest as you climb up the stairs.

--

Dinner is a quick affair.

It’s silent, only the noise of spoons and forks clanking against the dishes echoing in the air as the two of you sit opposite each other in the kitchen. You make Luna sit on the rug now, having better faith in her to keep watch to ensure you don’t meddle down the path of insanity. The silence doesn’t feel heavy this time, seemingly sitting at the table like an old friend.

You can tell Leon wants to say something, it’s in the way he pauses between bites, clears his throat but then decides against it. You don’t push him either, happy to act nonchalant. The dishes are whisked away quickly, Leon grabbing yours in the millisecond when you turned your attention elsewhere, already standing at the sink and rinsing them. He reminds you about the tools. You nod at him, telling him tomorrow.

You bid goodnight, give Luna a kiss, tell her to stay and within minutes you crash on the comfort of your bed, the fatigue of the day quick to pull you under.

Only to be greeted by an overwhelming scent of antiseptic.

The fluorescent lights are blinding, glaring down relentlessly from the ceiling above you, making you squint. You try to move your head, pain shooting at the sensation as you register the strap tight around your throat holding you down, a gag firm across your lips. Panic builds in you, hands jerking to remove the gag but you can’t. They’re tied down, bound to cold metal bars under your skin, loosing sensation in your legs due to the grating knots.

The surface you’re tied down to is hard and freezing, no padding to save you from its harshness. Your breathing quickens, tears stinging and spilling from your eyes, only able to whimper and choke on your own saliva. The thin cloth that covers you does nothing to help against the cold temperature of the room, shivering as you feel stuck, shutting your eyes tight but the motion doing nothing to block out any light.

You hear a metal door open, heavy and creaking, two pair of footsteps scuffling in. Hot tears dribble down your cheeks, finding yourself at the mercy of two strangers, clad in white from head to toe with their faces obscured. They stand over you, unaffected by your tears and thrashing. One peels back the only barrier you had against the two as the other grabs a syringe and spares no time in plunging it in your abdomen.  

White hot searing pain consumes you, the flames eviscerating every fiber of your being, turning bones to dust. Your vision ebbs away, replaced by nothingness but the pain doesn’t subside. It eats you up from inside, bursting your lungs, every rib cracking one at a time, the sound of it resounding and echoing loudly. You gag on your spit, wanting to scream but no voice coming out. The black lines start streaking up and down the whole expanse of your body as you writhe, the two masked strangers dissipating in smoke.

You twist and turn, desperately wanting to be free from your shackles so you can claw at your skin and rip yourself apart. A sudden hand clamping against your cheek stills you. You blink furiously, tears dribbling down your face as your eyes come back into focus.

A knowing smirk, dazzling his teeth, concern flickering in his brown eyes as his long hair is tucked firmly behind his ears, the scent of cigarettes lingering in the air around him. Luis.

Wake up, señorita.

And you’re back in your bed.

The collar of your shirt sticks to your neck, your hands immediately darting to your wrists, rubbing them in comfort. The covers are in their usual spot on the floor, finding yourself panic under their weight. You sink to the floor next to them, palms spread against the cool wood as you try and contain the buzzing sensation in your head, evening out your breathing. Luis, you shudder, god I hope he’s okay or at least better than I am.

You swallow thickly, saliva feeling like sandpaper against your dry throat. Water. You scramble to your feet, hands shaking as you twist your door open, descending down the creaking stairs. Luna immediately perks up at your presence, stretching from her spot where you had left her and padding towards you. The sensation of her soft fur against your leg grounds you, the shake of your hands no longer a tremor as you sip water.

The thought of your bed, images of yourself bound down in your hellish nightmare, makes your stomach churn, chasing away any sleep. You bite back a sob, feeling the walls caging you in, returning to your single sofa in the living room, pulling your legs up, a heaviness occupied in your throat making you sink further. Moonlight streams in through the window, dousing the room with streaks of silver, starkly highlighting your isolation by plunging the walls in its cold.

You pick a spot on the wall across from you, slowly loosening your hold on reality and crawling back to the quiet of your mind where nothing except silence exists. You go numb, everything fading away piece by piece until all that remains is you.

You hear the echo of a thumping sound in the far off distance, the shimmer of warm light trickling your skin yanking you back to reality. You blink. Leon stands with his stick in one hand and the other on the handle of his open door. His hair looks tousled, sleep lines inked across his cheek. But his eyes are alert and they’re focused right on you.

“Alright?” The heavy cadence of his tone breaks the monotony of your home, the warmth and silkiness of his voice enveloping you instantly, returning warmth to your system.

You want to say yes, tell him you’re okay that you just came down to get some water, that he shouldn’t worry and go back to sleep. But you can’t seem to bring yourself to say it, his eyes proving to be compelling and encompassing, tugging an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of your stomach.

A pitiful shrug is all you can offer him, hanging your head in shame.

He hums in acknowledgement, flicking the light off in his room and limping over to come sit on the sofa opposite you, the rhythmic sound of his stick aligning with the beat of your heat. Luna is happy to see him, going over to greet him with a wag of her tail. And you drink in the sight that greets you. Leon is smiling softly at Luna, scratching behind her ear as she gently rests her head on his lap, seemingly content in each other’s company.

Leon’s eyes flickers up to you, extending the smile to you as well. “Want to talk about it?”

You shake your head, quickly wiping away the stray tear that’s halfway down to your cheek. The low lighting in the room makes it easy to face Leon, adamantly still staring at him as he looks over your face, trying to see the redness in your eyes or the blotchiness of your nose. If he sees it, he says nothing. He just looks at you, indulging in the quiet that doesn’t feel suffocating anymore, shrugging the hair away from his tired eyes, softly petting Luna as her eyes drift to close.

“You know,” He breaks the silence, “It just occurred to me that I still don’t know your name.”

Your fingers tighten around each other, pulling your knees closer to your chest, finding your voice. “I know.”

Leon’s smile is gentle, “This is the part where you tell it to me.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes focusing on a spot over his head. You only offer him a pathetic shrug of your shoulders, “You don’t need it.”

“I beg to differ.” Leon adjusts himself on the sofa, playfully nudging the walking stick, “What if I fall?”

“I’ll hear you.”

“What if I can’t find something in the kitchen?”

“You’re a loud guy, I’ll know.”

He sighs, it sounds more in wistfulness than in annoyance. It’s unfair you think, how pretty he looks in the moonlight, bashful thinking on your end that he was only allies with the sun; it seemed he had teamed up with every celestial body. It gives him a halo, glittering his skin and his eyes impossibly blue. His stare in unwavering as though he’s solving a puzzle, trying to find one end of the thread so he can start pulling to unravel. But all he ends up with is a tangled web.

“Why not?” He gently prods.

“Because,” You say in a hushed tone, “It’s not important.”

Leon scoffs at that, raising his eyebrows, unimpressed. You release your hands, letting your legs fall to the ground, feet scraping the cold wooden boards. And then you whisper it for him, with a soft roll of your tongue into the twilight as though handing him fine china cradled in your hands. You wince at the way it sounds, heavy and murky, leaving a lingering sensation of distaste on your tongue.

But then Leon echoes it back to you, in test and it nearly upends you from your chair. You’re convinced it’s not even the same name. He says it so tenderly, like saccharine dulcet drips from his lips. He says it with such reverie that it stuns you, freezing you in place, a part of you wanting to hear it again, almost pleading but unable to beg. The heat spreads rapidly across your face and what else can you do but look away, hiding the barely there smile before he can see it.

“How can it not be important?” He tilts his head, twinkle in his eyes, “It belongs to you.”

\ A tingling sensation grips you, flooding you from head to toe. You hadn’t heard the sound of your names in ages now, feeling like a hollow echo on the occasion you would say it out loud just to reassure yourself that you had not forgotten, that you were still present and not a snapshot of the past, cast aside as insignificant as the world moved on.

A small laugh manages to make it out of you, “Yeah…I guess so.”

Leon brightens at your laugh, leaning forward carefully so as to not disturb Luna, “I know I’m new here but I’m just letting you know that you can talk to me. I might not be as great a conversationalist as Luna here but I can try.”

You pause, contemplating his offer, heart feeling less heavy than it was mere moments ago. You wonder how he does it, how he managed to pluck away the bug that had been eating away at you for years with such ease. Your heart swells again but this time it feels light as air. So you nod, with a little hesitation and that relaxes his shoulders.

Leon returns your nod, making to grab his stick, carefully settling Luna’s head on the cushion next to him before getting up. He hobbles back to his room and turns to look at you one last time before closing his door. He stops, offering a soft turn of his lips and then gently shuts the door.

You whisper, barely a sound coming out of your lips, “Thank you…Leon.”

[writeriguess]

Hi, could you do bakugou x reader (couple) where he forgets the reader's birthday? For work reasons I request that it be fluff ;3. ty.

It had been a long day, and you found yourself lounging on the couch, staring at the phone screen. The notification center remained painfully silent—no texts, no missed calls, nothing. Today was supposed to be special. Today was your birthday, and yet… nothing.

Your chest ached with a familiar, bitter feeling. Katsuki had been swamped with hero work lately. You understood—he was always busy saving lives, training, and striving to be the best. But you couldn't help the little sting of disappointment as the hours passed without a single word from him.

"Maybe he's planning something," you whispered to yourself, hugging a pillow close to your chest. Yet, deep down, you weren’t so sure.

The sun was already beginning to set when you heard the front door creak open. Bakugou entered, his usual scowl in place, his hair messy from the long day. He kicked off his boots and slung his hero jacket over a nearby chair.

"Hey," you greeted, voice quieter than usual.

He grunted in response, walking over to grab a glass of water. You watched him closely, waiting—hoping—for some sign that he remembered. But he just stood there, chugging the water, then rubbing the back of his neck like nothing was out of the ordinary.

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.

"You okay?" he finally asked, noticing the way you were staring at him.

You blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Liar," he muttered, narrowing his eyes.

You bit your lip, unsure if you should bring it up. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, but the disappointment was hard to shake. Finally, you sighed, setting the pillow aside.

"It's my birthday today, Katsuki."

His reaction was immediate—he froze, the glass in his hand clattering down onto the counter, spilling some water. His crimson eyes widened in shock, a look so rare on him that it would’ve been funny under different circumstances.

"Shit," he whispered, and the way his voice dropped sent a pang through your heart. "I… I forgot."

You nodded slightly, trying to shrug it off. "It's fine. I know you've been busy."

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He cursed under his breath again, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself. "No, it’s not fine. I—damn it—I can’t believe I forgot."

His fists clenched at his sides, eyes filled with regret. "I’m sorry, okay? I’m… I’m an idiot."

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. Bakugou wasn’t one to apologize easily. He was too proud, too stubborn. But there he was, standing in front of you, looking guilty, looking like he genuinely wanted to make things right.

Before you could respond, he crossed the room in three large strides and pulled you into his arms. The sudden warmth of his embrace made you melt, all the frustration you had felt dissolving at the way he held you close.

"I’ll make it up to you," he mumbled into your hair, his grip tightening. "I swear."

You chuckled softly, resting your head against his chest. "You don’t have to, Katsuki. I get it. You’re busy, and—"

"Shut up," he interrupted, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was intense but soft, the way only Bakugou could be. "I’m making it up to you."

You couldn’t help but smile at his determination. "Fine. What do you have in mind, then?"

He grinned, that familiar cocky smirk that always made your heart skip a beat. "You’ll see. Just… give me a second."

With that, Bakugou moved quickly, grabbing his phone and disappearing into the bedroom. You heard him muttering on a call, probably making some last-minute arrangements. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly to yourself. Typical Katsuki—stubborn, but always determined to do things his way.

Less than an hour later, Bakugou reemerged, this time looking much more composed. He had changed into something more casual, and in his hands were two takeout bags—your favorite food, from your favorite restaurant.

"I know it’s not fancy or anything," he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "But I thought we could just… stay in, eat, and I dunno, maybe watch some stupid movie together."

You stared at him, your heart swelling at the effort he was making. "Katsuki… this is perfect."

He scoffed, cheeks tinged with pink. "Damn right it is."

You spent the evening eating, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company. And when the night grew late, Katsuki pulled you into his lap on the couch, holding you tightly as you watched the movie. His hand absentmindedly ran through your hair, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

"I really am sorry," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I know," you whispered, smiling softly. "But you made up for it."

He chuckled, low and warm, before tightening his arms around you. "Damn right I did."

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[abswhore]

just a friend final

Pairing: college!fwb!abby Anderson x reader tags:@macaroni676 @vqxen @grey-jedi12

A/N: this is the final part :( I’ve gain sm support I’m grateful also this isn’t proofread I’ll be going back on all the parts editing ! <3

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A month went by, and those three words continued to echo in Abby's brain . She felt the urge to contact you and make things right, to find out if you truly meant what you said. Yet, she struggled with the idea of confronting you after walking away like that. So, she decided that silence was the safest option, or at least the best choice for her.

She carried on with her life as if nothing had changed, focusing on soccer, her studies, and even finding time for jade, which brung comments from the group. Nora and Dina held her responsible for your absence from the friend group.

"You didn’t see my call? I tried calling you tree times. " Abby asked Nora as she approached the group's table in the dining hall,

"I did, but I was with y/n. You know she doesn't really like you much since you broke her heart." Nora clarified going back to her meal, causing Abby to click her tongue in annoyance.

“That’s not fair Nora.” Manny, speaking with his strong accent "You can't keep bringing this up; it's none of our business what happened with them."

The group genuinely made an effort to avoid interfering in you and Abby’s relationship , and Abby knew this. She felt as though she had caused a divide within the group. Abby understood just how much Dina and Nora valued you.

“She’s our friend.” Dina added in “ it’s kind of hard to mind our business.” 

“Whatever.” Manny mumbled sliding his headphones back over his ears .

“Okay, abs it’s been a month just tell us what happened .” Jesse suggested and Abby sent him a look throwing his hands up “or not.” 

“You or y/n won’t tell us, how bad can it be.” Ellie chimed in, Abby shook her head grabbing her backpack from beside her 

“I promised jade id meet her after , her class I gotta go.”  ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

Abby laid in bed scrolling through your Instagram story, replaying the story where your face appeared the most in them. She felt a deep longing for you, and it took all her strength to resist the urge to reach out.

She slid up on one of the stories, typing "beautiful" with heart eyes. Biting her lip, she moved her thumb to the arrow to send the message. When the person resting on her chest shifted, causing her to glanced down.

She glanced at Jade with a sigh, erased the message she had written and tossed her phone aside, pulling the girl in closer. This is what she wanted to settle for. ▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂

The day had went on and Abby spent the whole day on campus, something she rarely did, hoping to bump into you, but so far, she hadn’t had any luck.

She exited the library, deciding to stop looking for you. And just send you a text something she should’ve been done. As she took out her phone to send you a message, her gaze landed on the recognizable tote bag you always had with you.

“y/n ?.” Abby's voice came out gently, tinged with uncertainty. You paused briefly, clutching the straps of your bag tightly, then forced yourself to look away and continue walking, your heart racing. It felt as though it was thumping outside your chest.

“Y/n wait, let me talk to you.” Abby called out as she jogged behind you, trying to close the gap, reaching for your arm in a bid to slow you down.

“What do you want, Abby?" you snapped, pulling your arm away from her. She stared at you, starting to say something but then stopping before the words could escape.

"Can we have a conversation?" she said softly, moving closer to you. You let out a scoff and shook your head in response.

“talk.”

"can we go to my place? I don’t think we should talk here."She proposed, glancing at the couple that strolled by,

You felt the need to keep your distance, saying, “I can’t; I have other plans.” You did your best to maintain a cold demeanor, but her expression softened you. Finally, you gave in and suggested, “How about this weekend? I’m free then.”

"Sure, that sounds good to me," she said, and you nodded uncomfortably as you walked past her. She turned to watch you as you moved away.

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The week had flown by, and at last, the weekend was here. Abby sat on her couch, anxiously waiting for you , repeatedly glancing at her phone to see if you had sent her a message. Ever since that day she saw you, you had occupied her thoughts completely.

A gentle knock on the door caught her attention, causing her to turn quickly. She got up, brushing her hands against her sweatpants. As she paced back and forth in front of the door, she contemplated what to say when she saw you. Finally, she approached the door, nodded, and pulled it open.

“Hi.” You entered quietly, and as you shifted to the side, you felt a bit out of place. You stood there, feeling awkward, while she maneuvered around you to shut the door.

You both stood quietly, exchanging glances that felt heavy and awkward. The silence stretched on, making the moment feel even more uncomfortable. Finally, Abby suggested that you take a seat, but you turned her down; you had no intention of staying there for too long. 

“ you look good.” Her words made you let out a frustrated sigh. “Is this really what you wanted to talk about ?”

“No, I ju- how have you’ve  been ?” 

“Abby.” You expressed your frustration by saying, “I could be spending my time on something better.”

She stepped closer to you “I wanna say, that I’m sorry for how I left things off.” 

“Your sorry ?” You nearly laughed, but it felt empty, weighed down by the pain you had kept inside. “Is that all you can say? Just ‘I’m sorry’?” Your voice trembled.

Abby paused for a moment, searching for the right words to convey her thoughts to you. She slipped her hands into her pockets, attempting to steady her nerves. 

“I was scared and i didn’t know your intentions. It was natural for me to protect myself, I wasn't sure how to handle it.”

You froze as you let the words sink in, “you could’ve just talked to me.” 

“I know, and I really do care for you and I’m  sorry I’ll spend everyday making it up to you.” She spoke closing the gap in between the two of you. 

“I should go.” You went to turn and Abby went to grab your arm stopping you turning you to face her . 

“No,I don’t want you to go.” Abby stepped closer, closing the gap in between you two , her gaze never leaving you. “I know, I messed up” she breathed. “And I’ll spend every moment proving myself to you. I can’t change the past but I’m here now trying to make it right . Please… let me make this right.” 

Your eyes meet her pleading eyes, and everything inside of you crumbled , she had finally got to you. Whether you believed what she was saying to be true or not. despite everything—you still wanted her.

“You promise ?” You whispered, your voice barely audible. 

Abby eyes lit up and  Without hesitation, she pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you like she was afraid to let go. "I promise,"

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Abby had dedicated the last six months to showing you just how much she cared, and those months turned out to be the best moments of your life. She welcomed you into her world, sharing her thoughts and feelings, and you cherished every second spent together.

You both had introduced each other to your families, and if you had any issues with each other , you promised to keep them private and away from your friends.

“Did you enjoy yourself ?”Abby asked while leading you to the front door. As you both worked on rekindling your relationship, you emphasized the importance of not just focusing on sex but instead prioritizing quality time together, which meant going on dates every weekend.

“I did, thank you.” You leaned in and kissed her cheek gently. Gripping her belt loop, you both stepped inside together.

“What are you doing ?” Abby asked you as you pulled on her belt pulling her towards the bedroom “I thought our deal was no sex ?” 

“I know but I.want.you.”You whispered between kisses on her jaw while you unfastened her belt and pants. She then took control, gently pushing you back onto the bed.

She pressed soft, lingering kisses along your neck, and you tangled your fingers in her hair, tilting your head back and shutting your eyes tightly. This made her stop, and she took hold of your chin,

guiding your gaze to meet hers. “Look at me,” she whispered gently, even as your eyes remained closed. When you finally opened them, you took in the features of her face.

She drew you into a passionate kiss, and as she pulled away, she studied your expression before uttering those three significant words.

“I love you…”

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[dropsnectar]

Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x Afab!reader

PART FOUR

So I know I said this part would have smut but it would just mess with the pacing, so the whole next section is where you will find your spice. This part is a little shorter for that reason. Anyway, I hope you like!

When you woke up, you felt incredibly warm. Your legs were tangled up with… someone elses? You would say it was someone else but human skin didn’t feel like this. It was firm and a bit fuzzy, but not like hair.  Your nose was being tickled by… fur? Whatever it was smelled amazing. 

You recognized this scent. You opened your eyes to Lyith’s round, sleeping face. His impossibly big eyes were closed, revealing his long blonde lashes. His expression was serene, and a bit of drool had escaped his half open mouth. Your sleep-addled brain vibrated with excitement. He was so cute you could just kiss him… 

Nope! Awake brain was working now, bringing some clarity to your head. Lyith and Rena had made a habit of covering your face in kisses but it had all been platonic. Excessive affection was a Bee-men trait. Probably? You thought back to yesterday, when he had kissed you and you had kissed him… was that truly platonic? 

There was a heat in your stomach, butterflies whenever he would hang off of you or tease… A part of you wanted to face these feelings but you weren’t ready yet. After all, how could a bee-men be with a human? You had heard of monster-human relations being something that could happen, but was their species even compatible with you? Was there a future there?

“You're thinking awfully hard for 8 in the morning.” Lyith breathed next to you. 

 Your awareness returned to you, and you were very cognizant of the fact that he had been holding you in his sleep. You pulled yourself back a bit so you couldn’t feel his breath on your face. He narrowed his eyes and his lip jutted out. A childish but cute pattern of his.

“W-What are you doing in my house?”

His mouth twitched. “You are a sick person. You should have someone to look after you. I’m  glad though, you only slept for a day this time.”

You looked at him, eyes squinting, “Are you okay though? Don’t you need to be at the hive for your… bee duties?”

Lyith sputtered at you, his body rocking with laughter. “And tell me, what are “bee duties”, Little witch?”

Your cheeks heated and you sat up, crossing arms over your chest.

“I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be in trouble, is all. What exactly is your duty in the hive anyway?”

Lyith stared up at you under his long lashes. “I am a forager. A scholar. An ambassador who goes to human town to get our supplies. Actually..”

He brought himself up and stretched out his wings. They seemed sturdy enough not to get too bothered by him laying on them all night.

“.. I used to know your grandmother. She used to let me forager her garden. Of course, she was a lot more sparing with her magic, so it was nothing like what you do.” He gave you a pointed look, “But she taught me how to speak human. An interesting person, your grandmother. We used to buy seeds for flower monsters off her. She must have had quite a life.”

You stared at him in surprise. Your grandmother had always been somewhat of a stereotypical grandmother. She’d spoil you and laugh at your jokes, leave little candies in your pocket when you weren’t looking. You had never imagined her to be the type of person to deal with Flower Monsters of all things. It also explained why Lyith seemed so trusting of you, off the bat.

“Hey Lyith?” You breathed out, trying not to think about how your legs were still touching.

“Yes?”

“Do you want some breakfast?”

***

After that, you saw Lyith almost everyday. He made a point of stopping to talk to you every time he visited your garden. Once a week he would take you to see Rena and you would work more magic over the plants. As the spring progressed into summer, the flowers changed. You learned that your magic, while creating magical nectar, only stayed within the plant and not the soil. You were right in your worry that a different approach was needed.

You met a lot more of the hive, as on their days off, some Bee-men would come and watch you work on the flowers. Not all of them were able to speak human, but they communicated their gratitude through sharing their emotions. As you experienced this more and more, you started to pick up on what could even be counted as them asking you questions. You’d try to answer in kind, putting a hand on their arm or shoulder and trying to push images or feelings at them. This worked only half the time, but when it did, the Be-men would look so pleased they would dance. 

Rena, had always seemed a bit jealous by this.

“Why don’t you speak to us like that? We speak human for your convenience you know. Aren’t I closer to you then some random creature?”

“Don’t call your hive mates ' creature’, that's rude.”

Rena would get up in your face, throwing her arms around your shoulders and touch her nose to yours. In your mind you would feel her jealousy. A possessiveness that you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about. You tried to straighten out your feelings, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Then, you’d try to project some calm, warm energy at her. She just looked at you, sighing.

“You humans are a lot more dense than I thought.”

 Then she’d buzz off to deliver her nectar to the hive, leaving you behind in the company of her Hive mates. Lyith and Rena had been giving you more space lately when it came to your magic. You’d take more breaks, and often were given time to socialize. The Bee-mens youngest hive mate, Haven had grown especially fond of your company recently. He was your friend in gossip. 

Rena and Lyith had a habit of glossing over the issues of the hive, but Haven was very different. He would answer any question you could think of. You had learned that Rena and Lyith were actually pretty high up there in the social hierarchy, as they were both scholars who taught the rest of the hive in their free time. 

He was also very honest about the struggles of the hive.

“It's been about two decades since the last Queen died. We were having some issues with ambassadors from hives from the northern hive when a squirmish broke out. A lot of Bee-men died that day. Several of the Queen's favorite drones passed on and upon hearing the news her heart gave out.”

“Immediately? She wasn’t sick?”

“Do humans get sick before they die of heartbreak? For us it is impossible. Our bonds are our happiness. Without each other, our home isn’t a home, but an empty structure…” Haven trailed off, his expression wistful.

“But what was the squirmish about? I thought Bee-men were a friendly species.”

“You see, the two Queens had been sisters. The Northern Queen never liked our late matriarch and had been up to some mischief. She had convinced the Bunny Hybrids and the werewolves to move out of our territory. Eventually, the flower monsters left as well, and all the magic in the area just… disappeared. And Queens usually travel and make their own hives, or pick up abandoned ones. We’ve been waiting for so long!”

“Thats got to be hard. I mean, your guyses population can’t grow right?”

Haven looked at you weird.

“It’s more than that! Our Queens Pheromones give our magic structure! Without a Queen our magic grows weak and it's harder to communicate! Even making our honey properly becomes difficult because our grasp of our magic slips. We are so lucky we found you, little witch! Your magic is so easy to convert. I told you, you are a blessing!”

“But if you guys haven't been able to make honey properly for a while, how have you survived?”

“We haven’t. It's like your mana sickness. Sometimes our magic just eats us up.” You stared at Haven, your stomach turning. Haven looked at you sadly. “You should know this. Your Lyith and Rena have been sheltering you way too much. You're basically part of the hive at this point.”

You reached forward and hugged Haven. He trilled happily. 

“Honestly it could be so much worse!”

You spent the rest of the day in silence. You had known they were starving, but you hadn’t realized how badly. Something else didn’t sit right with you either. The fact that the monster races had left their territory had been something that had been bothering you. That had to be the reason why the soil wasn’t absorbing magic, right? That was the only thing that had changed?

Then it hit you. What was soil? It was broken down waste. No Monsters. No decay. No shit. And how did the Bee-men manage their own waste anyway? Could you do something with this? Could it really be that simple? 

You got so excited to tell Rena about it that it surprised you when you saw her at your door. Rena never made the trek to your house, saying that human civilization had a terrible smell to it. When you saw her face, she was crying.

“You have to come with me. Now.”

“Rena whats wrong, are you--”

“It's Lyith.”

All you could hear for a moment was the large thudding of your heart. Without another word you jumped into Rena’s arms and she held you, giving you a huge squeeze before buzzing off into the forest.

Part Five (Beware NSFW)

[evilminji]

You know my Crechelings Are Possessed post?

What if it was just the one? A SI-OC or OC?

Dying and going THROUGH the Force? I will attest, is GONNA have side effects. You're gonna end up... weird. Not Normal for a Force Sensitive. Kinda like Anikin tbh. A bit TOO in tune. A bit TOO aware. Connected.

As though your brain was cracked open 5+ dimensionally, to the Whole Of Creation that IS the Force and it kinda fucked you up a bit. Cause as A Luminous Force Being? You were fine! Energy and light! But as MATTER? Well...

Matter breaks.

Can withstand only so much.

We are LIMITED by our matter, crude and flawed as it is. Beloved as it may be.

Cause make no mistake! You aren't BROKEN. But you are CHANGED. There were a series of clear, monumentous, and "life" altering events back to back here! Death, a traumatizing thing no matter HOW peaceful it may have been. And in all likelihood? It was NOT a peaceful end. It probably? Hurt. Was frightening. Abrupt. There is grief and hurt there. Fear.

Then the trauma of being separated from everyone we have ever known. Without closure. For them OR us. Our empathy would remind us of their suffering. That they do NOT know we are okay. That we have no way to TELL them we are. This too, is trauma. But? Worse?

Is the Force.

We? Are no Jedi. Not yet. We are confused. Lost and do not understand. It is FOREIGN to us. An outside will that we cannot escape. Where are our gods? The death we expected? The afterlife we assumed we would meet? It's INSIDE US. It IS US. We are IT. We don't know where we are and everything feels?

E N D L E S S .

Can force ghosts even cry? Weep, terrified and overwhelmed? Afraid? Simply BRINGING us to them would not impart understanding. And imparting understanding? Well... we know it to be not OF us? To be inflicted. An invasion. The Force is not cruel. But! Importantly! It is not and has never BEEN? Mortal.

Blue and Orange morality is at play. How do you explain to a formless, infinite, all knowing, all powerful God Force? The concept of "boundaries"? Limits? There is GOOD to be done. It's helping you! Pushing love and comfort! Surely that should work? Why is that not working? It is... confused. Not MADE for such contemplations.

This too, is Trauma. Being held in the hands of a God. Benevolent does not mean SAFE. Does not mean you will not be unharmed. Just... that they do not MEAN to harm you.

Or have very Good Reasons for why they "Must".

The Force Ghosts help. They are patient in the way only old Master's could be. Kind. They understand. Have taught. And so? Though they are quite confused, they understand you struggle to release your fear. Explaining things helps. Talking helps. And you find peace.

Not the afterlife you EXPECTED, but not terrible.

Which... of course, is when once again things change.

Birth, Life, these TOO, are Trauma. You were FREE. No more pain. No aches. No hunger, no thirst, no exhaustion. Connection deeper then this broken and flawed matter could ever hope to achieve. The world has gone SILENT. Muffled. Like solitary confinement for the SOUL.

Only in meditation, are you FREE.

Your parents can't handle you. You grieve for them. For the child they should have had. Look around the nursery, so filled with excitement and love, and feel nothing but the urge to weep. You are a stillborn, brought to life. A child stolen. They deserved better then this. Even as you can not be anything but what you ARE? What of THEIR sorrow? Their confusion and futures now impossible?

You love them. They are not yours. Will never tryely be your parents, for all they brought you into this world. But oh, Oh, you love these poor grieving souls. Wish it had not been you. That they could have had the child they were so excited to love. You... you are sorry. So, so sorry.

They take you to the Temple. You guild them to a child in need, first. Hope they will be happy.

You do not look back.

They put you in a Creche with others just as "Unusually Strong" in the Force. Is that Grogu? Hi Grogu. Who are the rest of you? The room is quite. Everyone talking loudly in the Force, instead. It would be deafening for the more delicate younglings. They don't have the shields for it yet. The children here SHOUT without meaning too, like standing at a rock concert.

Visions are a constant thing. Unusual Force gifts and manifestations. Illirrrska can see auras. Doesn't know what they MEAN, mind you, and xe sees them on EVERYTHING that lives, but still! Xey are well on xeir way to figuring it out. (Xey have a holo document cataloging the colors, you see.)

You fit right in! With your Tiny Herald Of Death To Come nature. Your Creche mates believe you. The adults? Have grown numb. Used to filtering. Tiny younglings with Too Much Force flowing through them? Are horrors. Viscerally unsettling. Unnatural.

Even to the Jedi.

But! They REFUSE to treat children with such caution and distain. Hold them at an arms length out of FEAR. So they mentally filter. "That's nice dear, horrifying concepts and brain melting secrets, mmmhmmm. Eat your pudding. Who wants to play float ball~‽ Yaaaaaay!"

No one will listen. Future in motion. But really, of course it is. You are no fool.

However... tell me, Master Jedi. Does it matter? If we die one step to the right as apposed to the left? Because you would not LISTEN when the Force spoke? The future only changes when you ACT. Not when you REFUSE too. Out of FEAR. Out of IGNORANCE. Out of ATTACHMENT.

And make no mistake, you ARE attached. Clinging so hard to your beliefs that you could not POSSIBLY be wrong. Could not POSSIBLY be fallible, be fooled by the Dark Side and lead astray, that you have turned your back on the very Tennants of the Code itself.

What is more important? Tradition or the Force? The innocent or the way things were? Tell me, what is the will of the Force... and what is Fear? Convenience? The little moral compromises that damn? Who do you serve, Master Jedi? And ARE you serving them?

Perhaps you should meditate.

Just???

This Tiny Cryptid Crecheling? That speaks like a wizened old Master? Feels like a tiny star in the Force? Not a cute lil ball of light. A FUCKING STAR. Giant ball of gas in space, a burning ball of light, THAT kind of star! But... small? Person shaped. It's like meditating next to a Force Nexus.

They just? Hand you things. Or sabotage random ships. Literally just FUCKING SHOT a knight once, for no clear reason! All they would say is "it's not like you'll actually listen. This is the only way." What? Of COURSE WE'LL LISTEN! (No. They won't. Just ask Sifo. Ask Obi-Wan. The Sith, fear, and hubris have eroded the Jedi from within.)

The full blown confidence of an adult? Combined with the creepy "oh god. They're in THE VENTS!!!" Nature of highly force sensitive Crechelings?

Magnificent~☆

They can see into your SOUL. Are holding a toddler that squirms around, wiggles up to whisper in their ear, gets a nod, only for YOU to be somberly informed that your second in command (a life long friend) has betrayed you. Avoid wearing red. You will die on a Friday. By the way, they can't reach the counter... could you hand them those snacks?

One of the other one speaks to trees.

The trees SPEAK BACK.

Prophecy. Fuckin Terrifying Prophecy EVERYWHERE.

Did YOU want to know that your grandson will grow up to kill his brother? No? Too bad! Not even married yet? ALSO TOO BAD! Have FUN with that knowledge! How about learning that there is horrific suffering planets away? No. No there ISN'T anything you can do about it. Just... here! Have some Deeply Cursed Knowledge. From a toddler. Now! They're gonna go eat grass~☆

The appear and disappear at random. Climb the walls. Fuckin FLOAT. The Force itself is their imaginary friend! They literally consult it over PUDDING CHOICES. Sometimes? They talk in perfect synchronization, like a hive mind. Stare without blinking. One moment they are perfectly normal children... the next? Like PUPPETS.

Tiny avatars. Through which SOMETHING GREATER speaks. They KNOW, not think, KNOW what they need to do. You can not convince them. Trying just makes you an obstacle to be overcome.

They are four.

Toddlers and children. Younglings. Initiates!

I just? Want there to be? A portion of Deeply Cursed/Possessed Crechelings? That are just LIKE that. Loved regardless. Nothing wrong with them. They're just too strong for their lil bitty baby brains. Once they learn to shield better? It'll balance out. Anikin would have gone there, had he been found young.

It'd be hilarious? If what saves the galaxy? Is someone finally REMEMBERING that? And thinking to themselves?

"Hey, you know what might be good for that Skywalker kid? Being exposed to more Force Sensitives that GET him. We should put him on Cursed Crechelings duty for a bit." And??

Anikin? Is in LOVE? They are all so SMOL an NORMAL? Finally! Jedi who aren't EMOTIONALLY DISTANT! Shielded? What do mean "Shielded"? No I'm not shouting all the time! This is my normal speaking voice! *Skywalker confusion as he cuddles babies*

Cause like? He too? Spoke in horrifying prophecy? Was vaguely Anti-christ-y? Did the (o.o) see into your sooooooul stare? So WHAT? That's just how babies ARE!

.....what do you MEAN "no"?

Every day, throwing open Obi-Wan's poor, slowly being destroyed, front door like "Master! Did you know I am AN OUTLIER!? And REALLY LOUD!? Other people aren't emotionally crippled psychopaths, they're just really REALLY quite compared to me!!" "Ah. Yes, Anikin, please. Maybe say that LOUDER. I don't think the ENTIRE temple quite heard you... -_- "

Just?? Anikin Skywalker! And his Hoard of Creepy Possessed Crechelings that are TOTALLY NORMAL, Guys! All kids are like this! He's a GREAT role model and baby sitting! Yeah, it's the Clone wars, and no, he has NO idea how the entire Creche got onto the ship... but hey! Enrichment! That's good for them, right?

(^-^) (o.o) (|o.o|) (o,o) (o-o) (|o,o|)

*clones look from their general, to the tiny unblinking magic jedi babies, back to their general* s-sure?

@legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @babbling-babull @hdgnj @hypewinter @leftnotright @starwarsblr

[seafoamreadings]

week of september 22nd, 2024

these are written predominantly for the *rising* signs but they are also intuitively "channeled" enough that they should work for any dominant energy you have! (try your sun if you don't know rising, or more advanced readers can try moon, anywhere you have a stellium, etc and see what works best for you!)

aries: someone you're "talking to" may very well become someone closer and more special this week. even if this is not given an official title, or even if you don't register any major shifts in your feelings, the nodes ensure that this sort of communication is quite meaningful.

taurus: this is likely a big week for you in terms of love and relationships. but don't expect to meet prince charming at a ball in a pumpkin coach... much more likely that going about your day to day responsibilities and recreation brings this person to you, or that they are already there and a spark ignites this week.

gemini: your mercurial ruling planet has a busy week of significant aspects ahead. this corresponds to a roller coaster of ups and downs throughout your week. everything is temporary and nothing is all the way off limits, so use what you can and don't sweat the rest too much.

cancerians: venus pops into your 5th house, virtually guaranteeing a good time, especially for single cancerians seeking to be swept off their feet. but don't forget, eclipse season is still in progress, and this week is prep for a big solar eclipse in libra perfecting next week. it's real love but it's not steady, stable, or certain. enjoy it anyway!

leo: beautify your home and bring it all the harmony you can for auspicious as-above-so-below points. meanwhile, expect changes to your career or public image, but don't try to bring them about yourself or force anything. better to let that play out on its own and focus on your sanctum and your own personal lair at this time.

virgo: mercury, from its vantage point of your sign, gets some interaction with all the three outermost planets this week. which means you're getting input and intel from out there, intense, overarching vibrations. it may or may not shake up your day to day life, but you can expect developments when it comes to fun, romance, partnership, intimacy, and shared resources.

libra: your ruling planet venus heads out of your sign and into scorpio early this week but don't let anyone convince you this is somehow unfavorable. this can attract lots of money and other helpful resources for your sign more than for others. not long afterwards, mercury enters your sign anyway, which maintains your higher-than-average charisma and eloquence levels.

scorpio: you have bigger love and romance vibes than most other people do this week. this goes mostly favorable, especially if you are open to changes and you are doing your so-called inner work. journaling will especially be favorable all week .

sagittarius: talk to your friends and acquaintances! it is likely you will encounter an unexpectedly helpful person in this time. meanwhile a dedicated self love practice is also auspicious this week. not just pampering yourself, but really giving your inner child what they never had as an actual child, and doing the responsible things you must do as an adult... but also pampering, yes.

capricorn: if you can, go extra out of your way this week to appreciate your broader social support system. not just your spouse, your partner, your parent, your best friend, but also everyone you could turn to for help in a crisis, or the local people around you who, say, make your coffee, bag your groceries, etc.

aquarius: you'll get a lot of subtle hints this week as to things that are to come but you'll have to pay close attention to get the message. it won't smack you over the head. it's a little whisper in a crowd that you overhear, or something about the way the light falls around you, etc.

pisces: the biggest part of eclipse season, for you, has passed, but it isn't over yet at all. you're still integrating the recent lunar eclipse in your sign, and a solar eclipse in libra is coming next (not this) week. so this interim period is full of omens and growth for you.

[edwardskhakipants]

I just cannot understand Charlie's vitriolic hatred of Edward.

The first thing he learns about this kid is that his daughter likes him too much. To the point that it scares her off and she runs away. Then, Edward proves he cares for her too by attempting to bring her home under parental supervision. Something Charlie should support and be grateful for? it's so strange to me that Charlie jumps to the conclusion "Bella wouldn't be there at all if not for Edward"

Then, he watches Edward be nothing but loving and doting to his daughter for the rest of spring and the entire summer.

Edward and Bella break up. The story is Carlisle got a new job. An eighteen-year-old boy has literally no control if their parent gets a new job and moves the family. Sure, he can get mad that Edward dumped her in a shitty way. In the book, Bella reassures him that she went into the woods herself. And there's no reason Charlie shouldn't believe that because he must have seen Edward be so careful and caring and cautious around Bella that entire summer.

ALSO as a grown-ass man, he should be like "Edward is this orphan kid who's probably got a lot of issues and doesn't know how to properly handle closure". He can be upset and confused. SURE. But he should be far more concerned with Bella's reaction to Edward than Edward himself.

Then, he should be mad at Alice and Bella for running away. Because as far as he knows, once again, Edward brought Bella back home under parental supervision. Then, once the Cullen family learned the distress Bella was in when Edward left, they moved back. Again, something Charlie should be grateful for? They cared enough about her to move back? A grown adult watches Edward dote upon and love his daughter for another spring all the way through summer and despises him the entire time.

Charlie can feel irritated that Bella chose Edward over his friend's son.

Charlie can feel confused over the depth of their teenage relationship.

Charlie can feel contempt for the relationship in general because it isn't what he would want for Bella.

But hatred? To the point where he is openly aggressive toward an orphaned teen? A kid who very clearly loves his daughter? I just don't get it?