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soaps-mohawk · 10 hours

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

What Could Have Been

Summary: You've reached the age you can be chosen. Little do you know your future has been planned out from the start.

Pairing: Philip Graves x reader

Word Count: 7, 358 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, Omegaverse, Alternate Universe, AU of an AU, suggestive content, mentioned predatory behaviors towards a minor, Philip Graves is a major creep, reader has a set age for plot (she is an adult), dubcon (pushing noncon at the end) but it's muddy water because a/b/o, kissing, touching, lingerie, panic, coercion, virginity and purity culture, fade to black because I couldn't write smut for this

A/N: I am...very sorry for this. Honestly I've been debating posting it but I wrote 7k words and I don't want that to go to waste. This is very...dark. A lot is implied but there's still some fairly disturbing content because of those things. The reader is 18 in this because of plot, but it still feels very...icky. Definitely recommend reading Chapter 34 before reading this to understand the context. Not necessary to read. Just an AU what if kind of bit for the story.

Also if you're finding this and you've never seen my stuff before, Hi! I highly recommend reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood first before this for context otherwise some things might not make sense. I suppose it could be read as a stand alone but still, context is nice to have

What Ifs Masterlist | Directory

“You’ve been chosen.”

You had barely managed to get a bite in of breakfast when one of the staff members had pulled you away and led you to the director’s office. None of the omegas at FIOT particularly like him. He’s a small man, middle aged and balding. His scent is...not pleasant. Nutty with undertones of wet animals and whatever he ate for his meals that day. Every omega in the institute dreads being called to his office, being closed in with the offensive smell he permeates.

You would have been experiencing that same disgust had it not been for your shock at his words. “What?” You breathe, eyes wide.

“You’ve been chosen.” He repeats, folding his hands on his desk over a thin file.

“So soon?” You ask, forgetting all decorum and manners you’ve had drilled into your head for two years.

It’s your eighteenth birthday today. You just became old enough to be chosen a matter of hours ago.

“This pack is very eager to claim you as their omega.” He says. “One of their betas will be by tomorrow to interview you.”

Your heart flutters in your chest. While it’s shocking you were chosen so soon, this is what you had hoped for. Two years of training and drilling perfection into your head did pay off. You’ve hardly been on the available list more than a few hours and already there’s a pack interested in you. Something about it has a chill running down your spine, tickling at the base of your neck. You brush it off as shock at this all happening so soon.

“You may return to breakfast.” The director says, going back to his paperwork.

“Thank you, sir.” You say, exiting his office.

It doesn’t feel like your feet touch the floor as you walk back to the mess hall, your body floating as you make your way through the halls. If tomorrow goes well, this will be the last day you spend in this building, this prison you’ve been confined to. They’ll be here as early as they can be tomorrow, if they’re this eager to choose you.

The thought has something prickling in the back of your mind still.

Who are they? Who is this eager to choose you? The must have known about you before you even showed up in the registry as being available. You’ve heard rumors that institutes will supply information about omegas to packs for the right price under the table. Information on omegas that aren’t old enough to be chosen.

You wouldn’t be surprised if FIOT was one of those institutes. The packs that get their omegas here are packs that can pay a hefty price. There’s usually a waiting period while background checks are done and information has to be verified and packs have to interview with the director before omegas themselves can even be interviewed by the pack. You’ve seen it take weeks before.

Whoever the alpha of this pack is...they knew about you before you became available.

“What did the director want?” One of the omegas in your age group asks as you take your seat at the table again. Amanda. She cried for five days when she was brought in.

The others at the table lean in close, like you’re about to reveal some big secret.

“I’ve been chosen.” You tell them. The words almost seem like a foreign language on your tongue.

They all cheer happily, getting looks from the wardens around the mess hall.

“That’s amazing!” Chelsea says, wrapping her arms around you to squeeze you in a tight hug.

“So soon?” Amanda asks as the congratulations die down.

“Yeah.” You say. “They’re interviewing me tomorrow.”

They all share looks, and you know they’re thinking the same thing you are.

The rumors are true.

“Impressive, isn’t she?” The warden for your dorm group says, as if you’re not sitting there too. She’s responsible for overseeing the small group of eight omegas you’re a part of. She’s the most knowledgeable about the omegas under her watchful eyes, and it’s standard practice for the wardens to sit in on the interviews between the pack beta and the omega being chosen.

“Quite.” The beta says, looking over your thick file. Bryan, he’d introduced himself as. He’d shaken your hand, something you hadn’t been expecting. He acknowledged you as existing right away, something that doesn’t happen often in the stories you’ve heard about interviews, stories from omegas that had made it this far in the process, but were rejected in the end. “Excellent scores, quite extensive essays.” He says, flipping through the file. He’s not really looking at it. You can see his eyes just scanning the pages. He already knows. He came into the building with his answer.

Whoever his alpha is has already seen your file.

He closes the file, pushing it forward on the table. He’s looking at you. You can feel his eyes on you. Yours are lowered respectfully, no matter how badly you want to stare back at him.

“To be honest, my alpha already made his decision before I got here.” Bryan says, leaning his arms on the table. “Your profile was enough to convince him.”

“So, you’d like to move forward with the process?” Warden Jameson asks.

“Yes.” He says, nodding. “She’s going to be a perfect fit.”

You glance up at him, a warm smile on his face as he stares at you. It’s really happening. You really have been chosen.

The next hour is a flurry of paperwork and signatures. None from you, of course, but from the beta of your new pack. The paperwork would be sent to your new alpha to sign off on and to finalize the decision once you meet him. No one has ever been sent back after that point, yet you can’t help the nervous flutter in your stomach. What if they don’t like you after all? What if they made a hasty decision and regret it as soon as they meet you? What if you mess everything up?

You follow Bryan and the director towards the entrance to the building, something you haven’t seen since your tour after your arrival. It’s off limits to omegas, several locked doors standing between them and freedom.

Or more like to keep others out.

There’s someone at the front desk as you pass by, and you turn to look out of curiosity. It’s a middle aged woman with blonde hair, dressed in a business suit. “Kate Laswell, here for an appointment with Director Jones.”

You don’t get to hear anything else, ushered out into the world by the director. You’ve heard how giddy he gets about omegas leaving from staff, though you supposed that’s because it’s extra money in his pockets. The more omegas he can match and get out of FIOT, the more the government pays him.

“I’m looking forward to hearing how she’s settling in.” The director says to Bryan as he hands off your small bag of meager belongings.

“Of course.” Bryan says, setting it in the front seat of the car waiting out front. “My alpha will be in touch.”

“Good.” He shakes Bryan’s hand before turning to you. “Good luck. I expect the best from you.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, dropping your gaze out of respect.

Bryan opens the car door for you and you slide in, smoothing out your skirt. You’re still in your uniform, and you won’t be able to change until you get to where you’re going. If they let you change. It’s important they remember where you came from, where you were taught the things you’re supposed to know, where you were trained to be the perfect omega. As if they could forget where they paid for you.

Bryan drives away from the institute, taking you away from the place that’s been your home for the last two years. It’s the first time you’ve been outside those walls since you were forced in, ripped away from your home the day after your presentation. You’ve thought about your family many times over the last two years. Where are they now? How are they doing? What have your siblings been up to? Have any of them presented as omegas too?

Maybe your new alpha will let you contact them again.

It’s wishful thinking. Most don’t. Not the kinds of alphas that buy from FIOT.

“Nervous?” Bryan asks, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

“Yes, sir.” You say, smoothing your hands over your skirt. You’re projecting your scent without even realizing it. “Sorry, sir.”

He smiles. “I don’t blame you. I’d be nervous too. Don’t worry, though. You’re going to a good place.”

Despite his well meaning words, you can’t help but feel a bit of trepidation. Is it a good place? Or is it only a good place by beta’s standards? He can’t possibly know, he can’t possibly understand, unless there’s other omegas.

You’re almost excited by the thought of being around other omegas in a pack. Having that chance to have friends and bond with others like you who know. Those who understand.

You can’t help but stare as Bryan pulls into the parking garage of a very nice hotel. The cars in the parking garage are some of the most expensive you’ve ever seen. You’re not surprised, given the types of alphas that choose omegas from FIOT. Rich, important alphas looking for trophies to wave around.

Look at me, look at my perfect omega.

Bryan opens your door for you, helping you out of the car. He’s holding your bag in his hand, using the other to guide you towards the elevator. His hand is warm, even though your back is beginning to sweat a bit. You’re really nervous now, but you try to keep your scent under control.

Your new life is about to begin, the life of a claimed omega.

Unless they don’t like you.

You have to do everything in your power to make sure they do.

The elevator ride seems to take a lifetime as you go up to a high floor overlooking the city. You’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice before. You’ve never even been in a building with this many floors before.

Bryan leads you down the hall to a door, using the keycard to open it. He gives you a reassuring smile before pushing it open and guiding you through. It’s a suite, possibly the nicest hotel room you’ve ever seen. Bryan leads you to the small living area, the man you assume is your alpha seated on one of the couches. He’s sitting there casually, ankle crossed over his knee, his arm thrown over the back of the couch. There’s a grin on his face, your eyes widening as you stare at him.

“Phil?”

It comes out before you can stop it, all training and decorum leaving as you stare at him in shock. His smile widens, showing off perfect white teeth and dimples. He’s a bit older now than he had been back then, but it is him.

“Hi darlin’.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Been a while.”

Ten years or so. He was your dad’s best friend while he was stationed in Texas. He was at your house constantly, sitting around watching sports and standing in the backyard while your father barbequed. He was always friendly to you, always sitting just a little too close, always hovering. You hadn’t thought anything about it back then. You were too young to understand.

Now you do.

You drop your gaze as he approaches, trying to recover from your shock. You still have an impression to make, a role to fill. Calloused fingers cup your chin, lifting your face back up. You stare up into Phil’s bright blue eyes, just as friendly as you remember them being.

“None of that.” He says softly. “We’re familiar with each other, aren’t we?”

“Yes, sir.” You say, swallowing thickly.

A small smile tugs at his lips before he releases you. “Come on, make yourself comfortable.” He motions to the couches. “We've got a few things to discuss.”

Nerves twist in your stomach as you move to the couches, tucking your skirt under you before you sit. The couch is comfortable, your body sinking into the cushion. It's far more comfortable than the chairs and benches at the institute. He takes a seat right next to you, draping an arm across the back of the couch behind you.

His fingers curl under your chin again, turning your head so you're looking at him. Those bright blue eyes scan your face, taking in every detail.

“Those pictures didn't do you any justice.” He says. Your file is sitting on the table in front of you. “You've always been a pretty little thing.” His thumb traces your jaw, your stomach churning. “Look like your mom more than your dad. That's certainly not a bad thing.” He smirks.

He holds you there for a moment staring into your eyes. Something tickles in the back of your mind as he stares at you, something instinctual like a warning. He releases you, dropping his hand back onto his lap.

“It's good to see you again.” He says, the fingers of the hand behind you playing with the strands of your hair. “A lot has changed, hasn't it? I got old, you became an omega. I always knew you would. Your temperament wasn't right for an alpha. Always so calm and eager to please. You weren't rowdy like your brothers. Always such a sweet little thing.” His fingers trail over the back of one of your hands where it's draped in your lap. Your stomach clenches at his touch, something churning inside you, something you haven't felt since the last time you were around him. “You didn't deserve the way he treated you. It wasn't your fault for becoming what you are.”

He's talking about your father.

“How did you-”

“I was the one he called.” Phil says simply. “Raging and carrying on about his useless child presenting as an omega.” He shakes his head. “So I pulled some strings, promised some favors, and got you into FIOT immediately, with the stipulation that you would be mine as soon as you were old enough.” He grins. “Now here we are!”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. “It was you?”

He nods. “Had to make sure you'd be taken care of until I could come yet you myself. Now you’re here.” His arm wraps tighter around you, the hand that had been brushing yours dropping to wrap around your thigh. You stare up at him as he leans down slightly closer to you. He smells just like you remember. Woody with the rich scent of chocolate underneath. “I will take care of you.” He says, looking pointedly into your eyes. “You'll want for nothing and you'll be happy.”

Will you?

You break away first, your eyes dropping to stare at the hand that’s gripping your thigh, fingers indenting the skin through your tights. It feels like a threat, a silent reminder of the power dynamic between you, something he won’t say out loud. He’s an alpha, you’re only an omega. He has control over you, he can dictate your entire life now that you’ve been chosen by him. You belong to him, just as he’s wanted.

He’s been waiting longer than two years.

“You hungry?” He asks, his entire demeanor suddenly shifting.

You are hungry. You had left the institute just before lunch, and you had barely been able to eat breakfast because of the nerves. You nod, deciding telling the truth is better than to try to lie to him early on. “Yes, sir.”

He gives you a grin. “You don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Phil, just like old times.” He finally releases you, leaning forward to grab a tri-fold menu off the table. “Pick whatever you like.” He says, putting it in your hands. “I’ll be right back.”

He gets up from the couch and you watch him go before turning back to the menu. The prices make your stomach churn. Your family wasn’t necessarily poor, but with so many of you, you certainly weren’t taking very many vacations very often. Your family moved around so much there wasn’t much of a need to take vacations either.

You’re not even sure what to do, looking at the menu. What was acceptable? What if you ordered something too expensive. With a hotel room like this, you’re not sure you could order something too expensive. You’re not even quite sure what Phil does anymore. You remember overhearing a conversation he had with your dad about joining MARSOC before he disappeared from your lives. Is he still involved with the military? Did he leave and enter a new career field, one that allows him to stay in places like this?

You might never know. It’s not your job to know things like that.

You just need to know how to serve your alpha and take care of him, follow his orders and give him pups when he desires them. Be a good omega and do whatever it is he wants. Your wants don’t matter, only your alpha’s.

“Decide what you want?” Phil asks, appearing in front of you again.

You jump in surprise, having been so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him approaching. You’ll have to break that habit and fast. “Yes.” You say, even though you hadn’t even read through the menu in its entirety.

You try to stop your hands from shaking, picking out the first thing your eyes land on. You’re not even quite sure what it is or if you’ll like it. You needed an answer and you gave it to him. Just exactly what he wanted.

That is your job, after all.

Give him exactly what he wants.

The bed looks plush and comfortable, larger than you’ve slept on in a long time. The beds at FIOT weren’t too terribly uncomfortable, but you’ve gotten so used to sharing a room it seems strange to be sleeping on your own.

That’s not the only reason it feels strange.

“Are you not going to-”

Phil cuts you off before you can finish, not even needing to know what you were going to ask. “No. Not here.” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s for when we’re at home. Besides,” He smooths a hand over your hair. “You’ve had a long day.”

He stares down at you for a moment, and you almost think he’s changing his mind, deciding he can’t wait until you’re back in Texas. Instead he takes a step back, turning to the dresser your bag had been set on. There’s other shopping bags next to it, things you hadn't even noticed when you walked in.

You had been too focused on the bed.

“Bryan picked up some clothes.” He turns back to look at you, his hand trailing down your back. “As cute as the uniform is, I’d rather you be comfortable.”

You can see it in his eyes. He’s picturing you in it, and not standing before him. It makes your skin crawl.

“Get some sleep.” He says, moving his hand from your lower back. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow. You need anything, I’m across the hall and Bryan’s next door.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thank you, Phil.”

He grins down at you, dimples indenting in his cheeks. “Of course, darlin’.”

You stare at the door for a minute after he closes it, holding your breath. You half expect him to come back in, change his mind and decide he’d rather do it here. He could barge in, force you down on the bed and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. You’re not supposed to do anything.

Good omegas do as they’re told. Good omegas don’t fight back.

You wish the door had a lock on it.

You jolt awake as you’re jostled in your seat. You let out a quiet sound, not quite sure where you even are, much less what’s going on.

“Just a bit of turbulence.” A voice says, pushing your head to rest against a shoulder again.

Right. You’re on a plane heading towards Dallas. You didn’t realize you fell asleep, your head resting on Phil’s shoulder. He smells like scent blockers, all three of you do. The plane is a cocktail of scents, the chemical burn of scent blocker mixed with the ugly mesh of too many scents in one confined space. Not everyone has the decency to use scent blockers while traveling. You’ve always hated planes for that reason.

You stretch your legs out as much as you can, your knee bumping the tray lightly. It had been lowered, you assume, at some point while you were asleep. Your book is sitting on it, the book you had been reading before you fell asleep. It’s the only one you own, a worn out copy you stole from FIOT’s library during your first week and never returned. The cover is faded and nearly falling off, the pages yellowed and stiff from how many times it’s been read over the last two years.

You’d had a brief discussion about it before you descended into silence, Phil promising you all the books your heart desires once you get to his home. Your home.

It’s your home now too. You’re no longer attached to your family, no longer attached to the institute. Phil is your world now, and you exist solely in his sphere. You’re dependent on him, and once the claim is made and the paperwork is filed, you will be his forever.

There won’t be any going back.

Phil will never change his mind.

The plane jostles again and you grip the arm resting on your leg out of instinct.

“Easy.” Phil shushes you, his lips brushing your forehead. His hand closes around yours, squeezing it gently. “Haven’t flown much, have you?”

“Twice.” You say, your fully awake brain realizing you’re still leaning against his shoulder, but you’re not sure you should move. He obviously likes it if he let it happen. Will he get mad if you try to move? Would he reprimand you on the plane, even if you are quite spaced out in first class?

He hums, resting his cheek on your head. “We’ll go on lots of flights together. I’ll take you all over the world.”

Would he take you to see your family again?

They were friends once. He has to at least know where they are and what they’re doing. Would he do that for you? Or is he going to keep you isolated as expected to prevent those bonds from forming again. Your only bonds should be with him and his pack. Not your old pack that you left behind for a reason.

You don’t know anything about his pack.

You know he has a beta, Bryan, his most trusted beta, from the looks of it. How many others are there? How many other alphas and betas? Is he head alpha, or is there someone else? You can’t imagine Phil not being in charge. He always seemed to take command of a room, even with other alphas. Even with your dad.

Are there other omegas in his pack? Or will you be alone, surrounded by alphas and betas?

Can you even ask him? Or is he saving that for later, when you’re at his home. Would he get annoyed if you asked? Would it ruin his plan that he obviously has laid out?

Your name being said brings you back to reality, your head tilting to look up at Phil. He’s staring down at you, his eyebrows raised.

“Welcome back.” He says, and for a second you wonder if you fell asleep again. “Lost in your head there, huh?”

You swallow thickly. “Yeah. My instructors said I have a lot of strengths, but my one fault is I think too much. Sometimes they’d say I’m sucking all the thoughts out of the room. Though, I think that was less of an insult towards me.”

Phil chuckles. “Got a lot of things going on in that head of yours. Just don’t let it get you too distracted. Hate for something to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead again as the plane begins its descent.

His words almost feel like a threat again, like a silent warning that something will happen if you don’t stop thinking so much. Will he try to fix that habit for you? Will he try to break you of that? Good omegas don’t have to think, they know and they act. An omega with too many thoughts is too independent. Alphas don’t like independent omegas. They want someone to listen and do as they're told, not question their orders.

You can’t help but sense the silent threat that radiates from him, the undertone of danger that has warning bells going off in your head. He’s been nice and polite and caring so far.

How long will that last once you’re in the privacy of his home?

It’s a nice neighborhood. Nicer than you’ve ever lived in, at least. The houses are big, the cars parked outside are nice, the lawns are pristine. It’s all very picturesque, it all feels very...manufactured.

Phil drives to the end of the cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of one of the two houses facing the rest of the street. There’s an American flag hung up on the porch rustling with the soft breeze. It’s warm outside, something you haven’t missed. It’s been years since you’ve lived in Texas, ten almost. You had been eight years old when your father received his next change of station orders and your family packed up and moved again.

That had just been shortly after Phil disappeared from your family’s lives.

Phil pulls into the garage, parking the SUV next to a rather expensive looking classic sports car. You stare at it for a moment, questioning just what Phil does and how much he makes from doing it. You’re not sure you want to know.

You fumble with the seatbelt as Bryan opens the door for you, blinking yourself out of your haze. He offers a hand and you let him help you out of the car to not seem rude. Phil gives you a small smile as you approach him.

He cups your chin, staring down at your face. “Jet lagged?” He asks, his thumb stroking your jaw before letting you go.

Jet lagged, confused, uncomfortable, unsure. All of the above.

“Yes.” You nod.

“Come on. I’ll give you a tour and then you can nap.” He says, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

He opens the door into the house, unlocked, you note. The inside is nice. Clean, pristine, staged looking. You’re not sure if anyone even lives in the house. You can’t help but wonder if Phil bought this house just for this moment.

“Cleaners come twice a week.” He says as he leads you around the first floor. “This whole space is yours, except for this room.” He says pointing out a door at the end of one hallway. “This is my office. Door’s always locked at all times. No one is allowed in besides me. You see anyone trying to get in, you tell me right away. Understood?”

You nod. The idea of what could be behind that door has a shiver running down your spine.

“Good girl.” He says, booping your nose. “Now, for the best part.”

He leads you upstairs, giving you a quick tour of guest bedrooms that don’t look like they’ve been touched, bathrooms far too clean to have ever been used. Why he needs so much space is beyond you.

No, you know why.

He leads you down to the end of a hallway, a door looming in front of you. You know what’s behind it. It’s what’s been clawing at you since the plane landed, since the drive from the airport, since you stepped foot in Phil’s home. Your home.

It’s nice inside. Clean, well organized. It looks like a stage in a movie. The bed is large, larger than necessary you think. The comforter is a deep navy with nothing but the necessary amount of pillows on it. There’s a chair in the corner that doesn’t look like it’s ever been sat in. A TV hangs on the wall across from the bed and a dresser sits between two doors on the far wall. The closet and bathroom you assume. It’s spacious, but not comforting.

That’s your job.

“Don’t worry, you can add your womanly touch to it later.” Phil says, stepping up behind you. You can’t hide the way your body tenses as his hands slide up your arms. His breath fans over your ear as he leans down, pressing his face against your neck. “We’re going to make good use of this room.” His lips brush your throat, tongue darting out to lick your scent gland. He hums appreciatively. “Sweeter than I remember, those strawberries.” His arms wrap around you, pinning your back against his chest. “We were made for each other.”

Your stomach clenches as his scent intensifies, blending with yours. You try not to panic as his lips drag up the side of your neck. There’s no stopping him. There’s no convincing him to wait.

He presses his nose into your hair, taking a deep breath in. “Get some rest.” He finally releases you. “I’ve got some things to take care of, and I don’t doubt the girls will want to take you shopping.”

“Girls?” You frown, turning to face him.

“The other pack omegas. They’re excited to finally meet you.”

Oh. You haven’t even thought about the pack or how big it is or its dynamics. Everything has happened so quickly, there’s been no time for discussions like that. You suppose you should have that conversation soon. Though, it’s been a long day already and he’s not wrong. You do need some rest.

‘A good night’s sleep is essential for omegas to do their jobs effectively. No alpha wants a whiny omega.’

He brushes his hand over your hair, giving you a soft smile. “Take a nap. You look like you need one.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, closing the door behind him. You stare at it for a long moment, half expecting him to change his mind, but you can hear him going down the stairs. You can hear everything in the silence of the house. It’s almost too quiet after the constant noise of the institute. There’s always someone talking, moving around, making noise. Even at night it was never truly quiet.

Now the silence is almost loud in your ears.

It won’t be silent forever.

You stare at the bed, half tempted to just curl up on the floor. He would be mad if you slept in one of the guest rooms. He’d know immediately. You’ll have to brave the bed. Better to do it now than when you have no choice.

“Look at you!” Hands squeeze your arms. There’s so many scents floating around you, yet it’s comforting. You’re among your own again. “Oh, you’re just a baby aren’t you?”

Natalie, her name is. You had been introduced in a flurry of excitement, and you had lost track of most of their names. Doesn’t matter, you’ll learn them all eventually.

Her alpha is Osmond, ‘Oz’ as he’d told you to call him, Phil’s second alpha. Not necessarily a large man, but highly intimidating nonetheless. You’d guess Natalie to be in her 30s, though you’ve never been good at guessing ages.

“How old are you, sweetie?” She asks, squeezing your arms again. She’s trying to comfort you in your obvious state of overwhelm.

“Eighteen.” You answer, staring up at her.

Something flashes across her face, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. “You are a baby.” She wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to cover and we’ve got some errands to run.”

There’s a lot of omegas. Phil had finally broken down the pack and its dynamics over a late lunch, even introducing you to a few members on your way to Oz’s house. You had your suspicions that Phil was pack alpha, and you were right. His presence, the kind of power he radiates. You’re going to be the head omega once Phil has claimed you. Natalie has been serving that position, as second alpha’s omega.

You’re not sure you want to take it from her.

They’re all older than you, if by only a couple of years. You do feel like a baby in their midst, so unprepared and unsure. It’s natural to feel that way, you were taught. There’s a shift, a change in dynamics, an adjustment period in the pack when a new omega is added.

Why couldn’t Phil have just been the family alpha type?

“Phil says you’ve known him for a while.” Anna, Marcus’ omega, says.

You nod. “He was friends with my dad when he was stationed in Fort Worth.”

“That was a while ago.” Jenny says.

“About ten years.” You say.

Silence falls in the room for a moment. It’s a tense silence, speaking volumes of their understanding and the realization of the situation. They won’t say anything. They can’t say anything.

“Well,” Natalie says, breaking the silence. “We’re glad you’re here. If you need anything at all, you’ve got us now.” She wraps her arms around you again. She reminds you a bit of your mother, perhaps if your mother hadn’t been constrained by the controlling nature of your father. “All omegas truly have is each other, right?”

The others agree with her, and you can’t deny it. What do omegas really have? Nothing their alphas don’t want them to have. Nothing parents, institutes, anyone in control don’t want them to have.

All we really have is each other.

“I mean it.” Natalie says. “Anything at all.”

They are excited to take you shopping, despite the heaviness of the conversation that had transpired. They spoil you, throwing bags and bags in the back of the SUV, brushing off any concerns about money. Anything you want or need, you get several of them. It’s overwhelming after never getting anything but the bare necessities and what the institute wants you to have.

Marcus, one of the higher ranking alphas in the pack, follows everyone around like a security detail. You had been concerned upon hearing only one alpha was accompanying you...until you saw Marcus for the first time. He’s big. Very big. Tall and bulky, he’s the perfect specimen of an alpha. Many young omegas’ dream alpha. Marcus is intimidating, letting off a dangerous air which causes most that pass your group to not even give you a second glance.

He escorts your small group around, offering up no question or complaint. You almost wish he was going to be your alpha, but then again, you know almost nothing about him. You don’t even really know that much about Phil. Most of the things you know are things you overheard from conversations he had with your father. But how trustworthy are those things, really? You hadn’t understood much until now. Now it all makes sense.

A lot of things make sense now.

Natalie stands with you on the sidewalk as Marcus and Bryan carry load after load of bags into Phil’s house. Your house. You’re scared for what’s coming tonight. Phil won’t wait. He won’t put things off, he won’t hold off until your first heat. He’ll want to make things official now, stake his claim as soon as possible. He’s waited ten years for this.

Natalie smiles softly down at you, a knowing look in her eyes. “Nervous?” She asks, picking up on your uneasy energy.

You nod, trying to stop the tears from pooling in your eyes. Good omegas serve their alphas, no matter what.

“I know what that’s like. I was scared shitless too.” She laughs quietly. “I think Oz was just as nervous too. Just relax and breathe. Phil will take care of you. That I can be confident about.” Her smile turns almost bittersweet. She knows. She understands. “You’ll be alright. I’ll come by tomorrow morning, okay?”

You nod, trying to suppress your nervousness. Natalie will understand, though you’re not so sure Phil will.

You look terrified as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You bathed an hour ago and yet you still can’t quite bring yourself to leave the bathroom. You smooth your hands over the silk hugging your skin for the thousandth time. You’re shocked you haven’t worn through the thin fabric yet with your sweaty palms.

Your eyes dart down to the sink, your stomach churning wildly as the bedroom door closes. Phil is back. You’ll have to leave the bathroom soon. You can’t spend the whole night behind the locked door.

You don’t doubt he’d break it down eventually.

Then he’ll be angry.

You let out a long breath, curling your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You have to do this. This is your job, your duty as an omega. Serve your alpha and make him happy. Be a good omega and do what he says. Obedience is an omega’s purpose. This is always what was going to happen, be it with Phil or with a stranger. Perhaps there is a small comfort in the fact you know Phil. You’re familiar with him. Why would he wait ten years for you just to hurt you?

The little food you managed to eat churns uncomfortably in your stomach. Phil had treated you to dinner before he’d left again, giving you time to clean up and prepare yourself for tonight. For right now.

You spritz more scent-enhancing perfume on your skin before you let out a long breath. You try to fix your face, not look quite so terrified, but you’re not sure you can hold it as you unlock the door, turning the knob.

The light in the closet is on, the door half open. Phil must be in there, likely having to maneuver around bags. You’d unpacked some things and put them away, but you’d nearly had a breakdown when you reached the lingerie store bags. You’re wearing some of it now, the silk robe and little white number your fellow omegas had gotten you. Specifically for tonight, you think. You won’t be wearing it again.

The closet door opens fully, Phil standing there in nothing but his jeans. His eyes trail your body as you stand there awkwardly in the middle of the room. His teeth sink into his lip, his scent thickening. You’re trying to look anywhere but at him but you can’t help the way your eyes are drawn to his form. He’s just as tall and muscular as you remember, more lean than bulky like your father had been. His skin is pale, though you can’t imagine him spending much time lounging in the backyard by the pool. Under the awning at the grill with a beer in hand as he used to do, that you can picture.

“Look at you.” He says, turning off the light before stepping fully out of the closet. “All wrapped up like a present just for me.”

You feel like vomiting as he approaches you slowly. You feel like a rabbit trapped in the sights of a hungry wolf, too afraid to run, too afraid to fight back. You’re going to be devoured and there’s no stopping it.

You jump as his hand cups your face, your eyes darting up to his. There’s a soft look in them, an attempt at soothing your fear. There’s nothing he can do to make this easier, though, other than just get it over with.

It’ll get easier. That’s what Anna told you. Eventually your omega will be happy, content with a good alpha and a pack. It’s just an adjustment. That’s why it’s recommended to wait when adding a new omega. Get past the adjustment period before reaching this stage.

How do you stop an alpha that’s been waiting ten years?

Most alphas don’t wait anyway.

“Don’t be scared, darlin’.” He says, lips tilting up in a smile. “I’ll take good care of you.”

His fingers tug at the ties of the robe around your waist, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re shocked he can’t hear it. It’s pulsing in your ears, nearly blocking out all sound as he pulls the tie free, revealing your lacy lingerie underneath. He lets out a low whistle as he pushes the robe off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

“Look. At. You.” He says, enunciating each word. His hands slide down your sides, brushing lace and smooth skin. “Can’t wait much longer.” He nearly groans, his gaze darkening. He steps up closer to you, your gaze locked on his. You can’t look down, you can’t stare at the tent in his jeans, you can’t stare at the bulge that’s brushing against your pelvis with every breath. “You ever done this before?” He asks.

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “N-No.”

“No?” He raises a brow. “Not even a kiss?”

You shake your head.

“Pure little thing, all for me.” He nearly growls, pushing his body fully against yours. His hand cups the side of your neck, something tingling in the back of your brain as his fingers brush the sensitive skin on the back of your neck.

You’re distracted from that tingle though as he kisses you, his lips rough against yours. You’re not sure what to do, but he doesn’t seem to care. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tight against him. Your stomach is churning, not entirely from nerves anymore as his scent completely takes over, clouding your mind. Despite your nerves and hesitation, your omega purrs appreciatively. He smells good, like alpha. It’s exactly what your omega wants, what she’s been craving.

“Fuck,” He groans against your lips, hands tugging at the lace covering your lower back. “So fucking sweet.” He bites at your lower lip, harder than you're expecting. You let out a quiet nose but that only seems to encourage him.

He pulls away from you, turning you towards the bed. Your palms fall against the mattress to catch yourself. The comforter has been pulled down, your hands falling against the sheets. White sheets.

Phil’s hands drag up your back until it reaches the top of the lace. He rips it easily, tearing it down the back before he pushes it off your shoulders. His hands run over your skin as he pushes the lace from your body, his back meeting your chest. His skin is warm against yours, his bulge pushing up against your ass at this angle.

“Sweet little omega.” He growls, pressing his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “All for me. All mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes, alpha.” You say, fingers curling into the sheet beneath your hands.

He hums appreciatively, nipping at the skin over your scent gland. You can’t help but begin to feel a stirring in your stomach. It feels good, despite everything. Your omega is growing complacent, the promise of what’s coming not nearly quite so frightening.

It gets easier.

Phil’s hands rest on your stomach, pushing your body tight against his. “Can’t wait for your next heat.” He groans, pushing his hips against your ass. “Gonna pump you full until it takes, give you a pup like you’ll be begging for. Keep you pumped full, just like your mama, huh. You’ll give me a big pack, won’t you?”

You’re glad he can’t see your face as he holds you there, your eyes glued to the white sheet in front of you. You desperately fight back the tears blurring your vision.

“Yes, alpha.”

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #alternate universe #au of an au #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha philip graves #omega reader

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nina-ya · 23 hours

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A/N: i was a little sappy writing this one ngl idk I just love law so much LMAO Pairing: Law x reader CW: none, mild backstory spoilers if you squint WC: ~800 Other versions: Luffy Zoro Sanji Law (more to come) • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Loving Law is not easy. It’s not supposed to be. He’s all sharp edges haphazardly taped and glued together, just waiting to fall apart at a moments notice. Every glance feels calculated, like he’s already three steps ahead in some mental game of chess that only he knows the rules to. But once you become a part of his life, once you’ve proven that you deserve his trust and care, you’re under his protection in ways that you may never fully understand.

Loving Law is falling in love with the ocean at night. It’s unpredictable, dark, but there’s a certain beauty in the unknown that is him. He won’t admit it, but he will always catch you before you fall. Not because he’s trying to be a hero, but because losing anyone else is something he cannot quite handle. His love comes in the forms of subtle checks such as a quiet “don’t overexert yourself,” a lingering glance that asks if you are okay, or a warm coat tossed your wat in the middle of a cold night. He’s practical, pragmatic, but never indifferent.

Loving Law is accepting that he doesn’t need to be saved, but sometimes he will let you stand beside him as the waves crash over him. He will let you in just enough to feel the weight that is constantly pushing down on him, but never so much that you think he’s burdening you. But you’re there to remind him that being strong doesn’t mean carrying everything on his own.

Loving Law is loving someone who sees the world through a lens of strategy and survival. His love doesn’t come with flowery speeches or romantic gestures- it comes with an almost obsessive need to keep you alive. He ensures you have what you need and he never asks for thanks. He doesn’t need it.

But then when you break through those hard walls he had built around his heart from loss after loss, you get to explore a much more vulnerable side to him. You get to learn about the despair that he has been put through, all of the rough battles he has fought to get to this point, everything that makes Law, well, Law. It’s not easy for him to do, and you can see this in the way he chooses each word carefully as if they may betray him. But when this does happen, you realize that there is a strength among the vulnerability, a wordless trust that comes from knowing that you wont use it against him.

And when he opens up, even if its just for a moment, you realize that he is not just giving you his trust, but he is giving you everything. Every piece of himself he thought was lost, every part of him that he thought was too broken to be loved, it’s all there, in the space between his words and the look in his eyes. And you couldn’t be more grateful to be the one he shares it with.

Loving Law is knowing that it may take some time to get through to him, but when you do, its more than perfect. There is a heightened intensity in the simplest of gestures such as the way his fingers graze over yours, the warmth of his hand resting at the small of your back, or the way that he presses his forehead against you staring into your eyes with a look that screams ‘i cherish you’ without having to utter a single word.

When his lips finally meet yours, its as if the whole world screeches to a halt. There is no rush, no frantic urgency, just a slow deliberate tenderness as if he is memorizing every inch of your mouth, the softness of your lips. The way he tilts your chin up, deepening the kiss with an inhale as if he needs to breathe you in. His hands are firm, one cupping your face while the other rests on your waist, keeping you close to him. His hands, calloused from years of battle, move with a surprising softness when he’s with you, as if he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

Loving Law is finding safety in vulnerability. It’s the knowledge that while he may keep the world at arms length, he lets you in piece by piece until he allows himself to be fragile in your presence. It’s the softness that only you see in him, the way his hands tremble slightly when they brush over your skin, the way his lips can express so much in the soft presses against yours, the promise that despite all the loss he has endured, he will never let you go.

#nina writes~✦#trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #one piece x reader #x reader

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suhkusa · 3 days

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Osamu feels the text before he actually gets the chance to read it.

“What the fuck—” there’s a sudden hand on his shoulder.

“‘Samu, what the fuck did you do?”

Osamu is taken aback, but retorts. If anyone asks, Atsumu started it.

“What the fuck do you mean?” One of Osamu’s hands grabs his brother's wrist, trying to pull his grip off.

Atsumu’s eyes are glaring into his own, “You know what you did,”

“If this is about Y/N, you had your chance and you fucked it up,”

Atsumu is pushing his twin into a nearby wall when he says, “That tweet was a lie, I was planning on fixing things with her. Why did you get in the way?”

“I got in the way? It wasn’t just the tweet, Atsumu. You know damn well. You started this with your stupid— truce,” Osamu’s pushing back. But his brother has always been the more athletic one.

“What truce?” a voice cuts through, and it’s yours.

The two of them freeze, still in their awkward position.

You’re stepping closer before you’re nudging Atsumu off Osamu. Osamu looked at his twin, and his facial expression definitely changed.

Atsumu really hasn’t seen you in a while, huh?

“What truce?” you repeat, but you sound more desperate, more demanding.

“It- It’s-” Atsumu begins to try to explain it, but it’s like the words don’t want to come out.

“Seriously? Am I just like a game to the two of you?” your voice is getting loud, but it’s straining. Like you’re hurt?

“I’m tired of this whiplash that both of you give me. You want me and then you don’t. You’re my friend and then you’re not. Can the two of you make up your mind?”

Osamu’s heart is shattering in his own chest. He never realized the weight of his actions until now. And as he glances at Atsumu beside him, he can tell he’s going through the same epiphany.

“I’ve tried, I really tried. You guys distanced yourselves from me after high school and for what? Some quick fucks and attention from girls?”

“You don’t know shit, Y/N,” Atsumu is the first one out of the two to finally speak.

“What? What could I possibly not know?”

“That we both fucking like you!”

Osamu feels his own eyes widen along with yours. The shocked reaction doesn’t stop his brother.

“We’ve both liked you for god who knows how long, and we forced ourselves to try and stop,” he looks to Osamu, “but we both know how that went,”

“Stop criticizing me— and ‘Samu, for that matter, when you don’t know how it feels to give up someone you love for someone else that you love,”

Osamu is still silent. He feels like he should say something, but he doesn’t. He can’t. His twin brother has said enough.

And in the end, Osamu still never got to confess.

Everything is silent. Atsumu is angry, you’re sad. Osamu doesn’t know what he is. Maybe conflicted?

It feels like everything just got way more complicated than it needed to be. Atsumu’s face drops before he runs a hand over his face and through his hair. He sighs before walking off. Osamu doesn’t know where Atsumu’s going. He doesn’t really care either.

His eyes then meet yours. Yours are glossed over. Like you want to cry, but you hold it back. He wants to reach out to you.

But Osamu Miya is a coward. And he doesn’t say a word as you stalk off in the opposite direction.

BOTH AIN’T SH!T — EPIPHANY

PREV | MASTERLIST

ATSUMU | OSAMU

NOTES.

surprise!!! you get to choose your twin lol

congrats on finishing main story!

#haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu smau #hq smau #hq angst #atsumu smau #osamu smau #atsumu miya x reader #osamu miya x reader #raeworks

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monimccoythings · 2 days

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The Way We Were

Word Count: 791

tags: f!Reader, dark!logan (past), threats, mentions of blood, past abusive behavior, implied alcoholism.

"Stop. it." His voice came out in growls.

His claws are so close to your skin you almost feel a thin line of blood running down your neck.

"One more word. Just one. And I'll show you what these can do."

You couldn't move. You couldn't speak. Too terrified and heartbroken of the man that had once mattered to you the most. The one you'd have willingly sacrificed your entire life for.

"Never look for me again. Don't call me. I don't want to see you." The rage in his eyes, the coldness, was a sharp contrast to the soft hazel orbs you had fallen in love with long ago.

*SNIKT* As fast as his claws had appeared, they were gone. You finally allowed yourself to breathe. It's short lived, because he's soon up in your face again, a disgusted sneer on his features.

"Now. Get out of my life." His breath smelled like tobacco and alcohol, all mixed together. He had been drinking himself to oblivion again. You let the tears fall. You didn't recognise the man in front of you. Your husband.

"GET OUT." He roared in your face, making you wince.

He turned around and left you behind without sparing a single glance, in the empty parking lot of that dive bar in the middle of nowhere.

That was the last time he would see you in many, many years.

Logan woke up sweating and with his heart hammering in his chest. It had been so long since the last time he had dreamed about you. About that fateful night.

He grips the couch so tightly, he's going to tear the cloth. His hands were shaking as he felt the too familiar hole inside his chest reappear. He needed a drink. He had to drink. This never happened when he was drunk.

Stumbling over his own feet, he made his way towards the fridge, opening it with more violence than necessary. With his heart in his throat, his eyes searched manically until they set on a single can of beer.

That would have to do. For now.

He tried to calm his overwhelming thoughts with a single gulp, nearly drinking more than half of the can; focusing on Althea's snores from across the hall. Whatever distracted him long enough to avoid thinking about-

You.

Your soft smile. Your encouraging words. Your endless support through all his mishaps and hardships.

How gorgeous you had looked in that white dress when you walked down the aisle towards him. How great you had made him feel, like he was the luckiest man on the planet.

How he had completely fucked things up.

No matter how hard he tried to keep his memories of you at bay, his treacherous heart kept going back to you.

He wondered how you were doing. If you got that promotion you wanted.

Did you still kept your endless collection of air fresheners that drove him insane? Were you living in a better apartment than the one you had?

Did you remarry? Were you two actually divorced? He didn't remember signing anything at all. His teeth clenched at the thought of anybody else having you.

He shook his head.

What right did he had over you? After everything he had done, all the pain and trauma he pulled you through, what made him think he had any say on who you choose to spend your life with?

He wasn't the man he wished he was for you. The one that you deserved.

Yet...

He was here. He had been given a second chance to pull his head out of his ass and do the right thing. Out of all the better suited Wolverines there were out there, Wade picked him and turned him into a different man.

He was a completely different man from the one he was back then. The one torn with rage and grief. That monster, murderer, he was long gone, locked away, he would make sure of it.

He looked towards Wade's bedroom. He knew the sneaky bastard hid some of those dimension-travelling tablets somewhere in his bedroom. Knowing him, it would be probably the dirtiest and grossest corner where he would be sure Logan would never look.

He titled his head. A dangerous idea forming in his mind.

Could he?

Would he actually dare?

What if he just took a small peek. Just to make sure you were alright. You didn't have to see him. And he could return home with the knowledge that you were alright.

It was a terrible idea. A dangerous idea. But if the Wolverine was known for anything, it was for barreling into danger first and asking questions later.

He just needed to find the right moment.

#wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #james logan howlett #worst wolverine #worst wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine

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ahmed-gaza27 · 2 days

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⚠️URGENT: This is my third account after Tumblr deleted my first account and imposed restrictions on my second account.

Ahmed and Aya's wedding will not take place due to the war 💔😔💍

I am Ahmed, 27 years old, an architect from Gaza, and this is my story:

I finished my university studies in 2018, and then moved between several engineering offices, working on a "job for experience" system, meaning without a salary. Unemployment was sweeping the Gaza Strip at that moment, and I lost hope of working in my field, so I went to work as a salesman in a grocery store. I continued working like this for several years, and I was saving money so that I could get married and build a family full of love and happiness.

In 6th August 2023, after I had chosen my life partner Aya, we got engaged💍💚. We pledged on the Qur'an of the heart to nurture the flower of love between us, so we drew suns and moons for our days, and we promised to stay together until death.

This picture is from the day of my engagement to Aya 💍😔

I gathered shekels upon shekels, I stuck stones next to stones, and raised the thresholds, keys of music that exuded melody, I extended water to it from the springs of the heart, and I extended the connections of electricity and light, I furnished it until the house that would contain us with its roses and immerse us in its warmth began to come together, the house that would be the safety of our family in the future grows from the depths of the impossible and emerges from the carvings of suffering and the rock of misery.

And here is the ship of life settling and docking on what we loved and hoped for. I love, study, and work. We choose the paint colors and sofa fabrics. We set our wedding day as February 4, 2024, which is my birthday. We choose our wedding hall, and our days pass in peace and tranquility.

These photos are from the stages of preparing my apartment in September 2023 👇👇

We did not know that fate was hiding its resurrection behind our doors and under our pillows, and that between the blink of an eye and the closing of it, the disaster would occur, the world would be turned upside down, and destruction would cover the face of the universe. We had left our home on the first day of the war and departed without knowing that it was the last time we would see our home before it turned to dust.

On the morning of 12th October 2023 , the crows of the sky, the occupation aircraft of the F-16 type, flew to throw the fires of their hatred with more than one war missile at our five-story house on both sides, after which the house turned into crumbs of rubble, wiping out all the memories of childhood and the details of life and the years we spent. They bombed a house that carries within it all kinds of joy and stories of success and challenges of building stone upon stone.

Now, I displaced in Deir al-Balah. I live in a tent inside an UNRWA school located on the beach of Deir al-Balah.😔💔

I created this campaign in February 2024 to collect some money so that I can provide detergents, water and food for my family, and I can mebuild my life, marry Aya, build a new home with a happy couple, and hold a wedding party other than the one we cancelled.

In the name of humanity and universal brotherhood, I hope you will help me get out of the depths of despair and save my future, which is almost lost if it were not for my hope in you to extend a helping hand to everyone who calls for your help, so that their hopes may be revived that goodness in the world will not be cut off, no matter how thick the clouds of evil are.

Please donate if you can! Support, participate strongly, the first goal reach to 5000€🔜

NOTICE 📢:This is my third account after my first account was closed by Tumblr and my first account has been verified by @90-ghost here.

@rhubarbspring @schoolhater @pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @determinate-negation @deepspaceboytoy @paper-mario-wiki @kibumkim @neechees @socalchops @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @swagvo1d @himejoshikaeya @rooh-tawaka-blog @deathlonging @briarhips @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @mazzikah @90-ghost @bixlasagna @anetteva @mangocheese @sayruq @timetravellingkitty @bixlasagna

#ahmedgaza-27-pro #gaza #palestine #free palestine #free gaza #artists on tumblr #art #architecture #animals #all eyes on rafah #all eyes on palestine #gaza genocide #gaza gfm #gaza gofundme #gaza ground invasion #save palestine #palestinian genocide #i stand with palestine

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800-dick-pics · 2 days

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I dont think most non black people actually want to face their own (personal and communal) anti blackness. Black people are not seeing enough of yall doing shit that actually matters like, cutting contact with your anti black family, giving up work promotions and giving the to black people, opening up your homes to poor/homeless black people, doing more than just casually reading vauge black leftist theory online and being "friends" with black people because you know itll boost your political capital.

I dont believe in black people giving our energy to non black people or their issues until we can give this level of support to our own communities. Most non black people do not care that we exist and the ones who do are falling short of what it means to truly be a friend and co conspirator. I dont believe in solidarity anymore, it literally cant exist if non black people do not choose to put a large organized sustained effort into combating anti blackness in their hearts, homes and communities.

#me #personal #vent #im personally gonna be moving more of own work into supporting more of my own bc im not really seeing that happening atm #I am just very done with dealing with trying to support and be supported by non black people who dont even care about black people #Niggas its time to be selfish! if you are giving to these non black people and theyre leaving your cup dry then its not cool!! be selfish #personally im gonna try to make more of my support efforts go to communal fridges in my neighborhood and giving to haiti sudan and the cong #I suggest that we start being more selective with who we are giving our energies too bc we need to help other black people first

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urdreamydoodles · 2 days

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MCU Characters x Fem!Reader (Part.2)

They react to your outfit for your date with them (Part.2)

As you step out for a much-anticipated date night, your partner reacts with their unique blend of admiration and protectiveness, captivated by your stunning appearance.

Characters: Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Wade Wilson, Logan Howlett, Natasha Romanoff, Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Wanda Maximoff & Yelena Belova

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

- Marc is completely caught off guard when he sees you, his usual stoic expression breaking as his eyes widen in surprise. "Holy crap," he mutters under his breath, his gaze glued to you. He’s not used to seeing you like this—dressed to the nines, looking absolutely stunning—and it shows in the way he momentarily freezes, struggling to find the right words. "You look... wow," he finally manages, his voice rough but filled with genuine awe.

- He steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and there’s something almost vulnerable in the way he reaches out, his hand resting gently on your arm. "I don’t deserve you," he says quietly, his tone serious, but there’s a softness in his eyes that you don’t see often. Marc doesn’t think of himself as the romantic type, but the way he’s looking at you now makes it clear just how deeply he feels.

- "You sure you want to be seen with me looking like that?" he jokes, though you can tell by the tension in his voice that he’s half-worried he doesn’t measure up to how amazing you look. You reassure him with a smile, and he relaxes slightly, though his gaze remains intense, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

- Throughout the night, Marc is more attentive than usual, constantly checking on you, his protective instincts kicking in. He’s still quiet, but there’s a rawness to his affection—little gestures like holding your hand or brushing his fingers against your cheek—that show how much he’s affected by you. And when the night draws to a close, Marc pulls you into a deep, lingering kiss, as if he’s silently thanking you for being there, for choosing him.

Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

- Steven’s reaction is immediate and utterly endearing. The moment you walk into the room, his eyes widen, and his mouth falls open in astonishment. "Blimey!" he exclaims, his British accent making the moment even more charming. He fumbles with his words for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. "You—you look absolutely gorgeous," he says, his cheeks flushing pink as he awkwardly adjusts his tie, clearly flustered by how stunning you are.

- He’s not the type to play it cool, so when he steps toward you, it’s with genuine awe. His hands hover nervously before finally settling on your shoulders. "I feel like I’m in a dream or somethin'," he says, his voice soft and filled with admiration. "Are you sure you’re real?" Steven’s not shy about expressing how incredible he thinks you look—his eyes are practically sparkling with admiration, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

- As the two of you head out for the evening, Steven constantly fidgets, clearly nervous but excited to be on a date with someone who, in his mind, is way out of his league. "I—I can’t believe you’re with me tonight," he says with a shy smile, holding the door open for you like the gentleman he is. His nervous energy is contagious, but it’s also heartwarming, making you feel even more special.

- Throughout the night, Steven showers you with compliments, his words always sincere and never forced. "You’re too perfect," he says at one point, his voice full of wonder. He’s completely smitten, and by the time the night is over, Steven’s eyes haven’t left you once. When he finally works up the courage to kiss you goodnight, it’s soft and tentative, but full of affection—the kind of kiss that leaves your heart fluttering.

Jake Lockley (Moon Knight)

- Jake’s reaction is understated but sharp. The second you step into his line of sight, his eyes darken, scanning you from head to toe with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. He doesn’t say anything at first—he’s not a man of many words, but the way he slowly licks his lips, his head tilting slightly as he takes you in, tells you everything. “Dios mío,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, his voice rough with restrained admiration.

- Jake doesn’t move right away; instead, he leans back in his seat, taking you in like he’s savoring the moment. When he finally does stand up, it’s slow, deliberate. He walks over to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours, and the way he looks at you feels dangerous—thrilling. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” he says with a smirk, his voice low and gravelly. There’s a playful edge to his tone, but beneath it, there’s no mistaking how much he likes what he sees.

- He reaches out, his hand grazing your waist as he pulls you in close, his grip firm yet possessive. “You look too good to be out in public,” he teases, his lips just inches from yours. There’s a fierceness in his eyes, like he’s already calculating how to keep you all to himself for the rest of the night. “Let’s skip the fancy dinner, cariño. I’ve got better plans,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with suggestion, though the glint in his eye lets you know he’s half-joking—half.

- Throughout the night, Jake is more protective than usual, keeping a hand on you at all times, his possessive streak showing in the way he glances at anyone who dares to look at you too long. But when you catch his eye, there’s a warmth there, a silent acknowledgment that even behind his rough edges, he’s completely captivated by you. And by the end of the night, when he pulls you into a deep, heated kiss, it’s clear he’s never letting you go.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool, Fox Universe)

- Wade’s reaction is, unsurprisingly, completely over-the-top. The second he sees you, he lets out a loud, exaggerated wolf whistle. “Hot damn!” he exclaims, his mouth hanging open in mock disbelief. “Did I die and go to heaven? Because, sweetheart, you’re making me look like an amateur!” He struts over to you with a goofy grin on his scarred face, completely unbothered by how ridiculous he looks in comparison to your stunning appearance.

- “You sure you wanna be seen with this?” he gestures to himself dramatically, hands moving over his scarred body. But before you can respond, he’s already spinning you around like you’re on a runway. “Look at you! You’re the perfect combination of sexy and sophisticated. I mean, I might have to make a new fourth wall break just to brag about how hot my partner is.” His antics are ridiculous, but beneath it, there’s genuine affection in his eyes as he gazes at you with awe.

- Wade doesn’t stop with the compliments. He’s constantly throwing out one-liners like, “You’re so hot, even my regenerative healing factor can’t handle it,” and “We’re definitely getting free appetizers tonight just based on your looks alone.” But every now and then, he’ll drop a quieter, more sincere line: “Seriously, though... you look incredible. Like, jaw-droppingly amazing. I’m the luckiest guy ever.”

- Throughout the night, Wade alternates between being his usual, chaotic self—cracking jokes and making a scene—and being surprisingly sweet. He sticks close to you, throwing his arm around your shoulders and stealing kisses whenever he can. And despite the jokes, you can tell he’s genuinely proud to be by your side. At the end of the night, he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss before whispering, “You and me? We’re the hottest power couple in this or any other universe, babe.”

Logan (Wolverine, Fox Universe)

- Logan’s reaction is subtle but unmistakable. When you walk into the room, his brows lift just a fraction, and a low, appreciative growl rumbles from his chest. “Damn,” he mutters, his voice rough and full of that gruff Logan charm. He doesn’t say much else—Logan’s never been one for flowery compliments—but the way his eyes sweep over you, lingering a little longer than usual, tells you all you need to know.

- He walks up to you with that rugged, confident stride of his, his hand reaching out to tug you close by the waist. “You sure you’re dressed for a date with me and not some fancy rich guy?” he teases, his lips quirking into a crooked smirk. But there’s no hiding the admiration in his voice, or the way his gaze softens as he looks at you. “Guess I gotta step up my game tonight,” he adds, a rare playful glint in his eyes.

- Logan might not be overly romantic, but he’s protective. As the night goes on, he keeps a hand on you, always close, always watching. He doesn’t like attention, but he can’t help the small, prideful grin that tugs at his lips when he catches people glancing at you. “They’re all lookin’ at you,” he grumbles at one point, but there’s no jealousy in his tone—just quiet satisfaction that you’re with him, and no one else.

- By the end of the night, Logan pulls you aside, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple. “You know, you’re somethin’ else,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, as his fingers trace lazy circles on your back. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.” There’s something deeper in his tone, a rare moment of vulnerability from the man who’s usually all gruff exteriors. And when he kisses you goodnight, it’s slow, lingering—like he’s savoring every second.

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

- Natasha’s reaction is calm, collected—like everything with her, it’s controlled. But the way her eyes flick over you when she first sees you, her lips curving into a small, approving smile, tells you she’s more than impressed. “You clean up well,” she says smoothly, her voice steady but full of admiration. Natasha’s not one to gush, but the way she’s looking at you feels intimate, like she’s drinking in every detail without needing to say much.

- She approaches you with that confident grace she always has, her movements fluid and precise. “You look beautiful,” she says softly, reaching out to brush her fingers down your arm. It’s a simple gesture, but coming from Natasha, it feels loaded with meaning. She doesn’t waste words, but the sincerity in her compliment hits harder than any grand declaration.

- As the two of you head out for the night, Natasha stays close, her hand resting lightly on your lower back as she guides you through the room. She’s calm, collected, and absolutely in control, but there’s a certain pride in the way she carries herself tonight. You catch her glancing at you out of the corner of her eye, and the small, satisfied smirk that plays on her lips tells you she’s enjoying the attention you’re getting—though, as always, she’ll never let anyone know.

- Throughout the night, Natasha is attentive, always making sure you’re comfortable and subtly complimenting you in her own quiet way. “You’re turning heads,” she whispers in your ear at one point, her tone almost teasing, but there’s warmth there, too. By the end of the evening, when you’re alone, Natasha pulls you close, her fingers tangling in your hair as she leans in for a slow, passionate kiss. “You’re incredible,” she murmurs against your lips, and you know, without a doubt, that she means every word.

Matt Murdock (Daredevil)

- Matt doesn’t need to see you to know how breathtaking you look. The moment you walk into the room, he senses it—the way your perfume mixes with the subtle hum of your heartbeat, and the soft rustle of fabric as you move. “You look... incredible,” he says, his voice low and reverent. The way he speaks makes it clear that he’s picturing every detail in his mind, and there’s a quiet intensity to the way he reaches out for you, his fingers brushing lightly over your arm before settling at your waist.

- When Matt runs his hands along the fabric of your outfit, there’s a softness in his touch, almost like he’s committing the feel of it to memory. “You always have a way of surprising me,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a subtle smile. Even though he can’t see, his senses make up for it—he can feel the way you carry yourself, the confidence radiating off of you. And even though he’s usually calm and composed, you can feel the way his pulse quickens ever so slightly when you’re this close.

- Throughout the night, Matt stays close to you, his hand either resting lightly on your lower back or brushing against your arm. He’s always aware of his surroundings, but tonight, his focus is on you. “You’re making it really hard to concentrate on anything else,” he teases quietly at one point, his voice laced with warmth. There’s a deep admiration in the way he speaks, like he’s always amazed by you, no matter how many times you’ve dressed up for him.

- By the end of the night, when it’s just the two of you, Matt pulls you into a slow, deliberate kiss. “I don’t need to see you to know you’re stunning,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. There’s a tenderness in the way he holds you close, like you’re the most important thing in his world, and it’s clear he’s completely captivated by everything you are.

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

- Frank’s reaction is quiet, but intense. When you step into the room, his eyes lock onto you immediately, and for a moment, he just stares. His brow furrows slightly, not out of confusion, but because he’s trying to process just how damn good you look. “You doin’ this to mess with me?” he finally mutters, his voice low and gravelly, though there’s a hint of admiration in his tone that he can’t quite hide.

- He doesn’t move right away, just stands there, arms crossed, as his eyes roam over every detail of your outfit. Frank’s never been one for flowery compliments, but the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you—says more than words ever could. “You’re... somethin’ else,” he says gruffly, scratching the back of his neck like he’s not sure how to handle seeing you like this.

- When he finally walks over to you, his movements are deliberate, his hand sliding around your waist as he pulls you close. “Lookin’ like that, we’re not gonna make it through the night without some trouble,” he mutters, half-joking, but there’s a protective edge to his voice. He’s proud to have you on his arm, but he’s also hyper-aware of how others might look at you—and that protective instinct of his kicks in almost immediately.

- As the night goes on, Frank stays close to you, always keeping an eye on your surroundings. He’s not a man of many words, but he’ll occasionally lean in and murmur something like, “You’re killin’ me with that dress,” or “I’m gonna have a hard time focusin’ on anything but you tonight.” By the end of the evening, when it’s just the two of you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you with an intensity that leaves no doubt about how much he appreciates you.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- Wanda’s reaction is full of warmth and admiration. The moment she sees you, her lips part slightly, and a soft smile spreads across her face. “Wow,” she breathes, her Sokovian accent softening the word as her eyes light up with pure adoration. She doesn’t try to hide how much she’s in awe of you, and she takes a moment to simply drink you in, her head tilting as she steps closer. “You look... absolutely beautiful.”

- Wanda reaches out, her fingers gently brushing against the fabric of your outfit, almost like she’s checking to make sure you’re real. “I knew you’d look amazing, but this... this is something else.” There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, like she’s genuinely stunned by how radiant you look. Her eyes linger on you, full of quiet affection, and you can feel how much she appreciates every little detail you put into dressing up for her.

- Throughout the night, Wanda is always attentive, her hand either intertwined with yours or resting gently on your arm. She’s constantly stealing little glances at you, and each time she does, there’s a look of pure admiration on her face. “You have no idea how lucky I feel to be with you,” she whispers at one point, her voice soft and full of sincerity. There’s a sense of calm and comfort that radiates from her, and being with her feels like being wrapped in a warm, safe embrace.

- By the end of the night, when you’re alone, Wanda pulls you into a gentle, lingering kiss. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how beautiful you are,” she murmurs, her forehead resting against yours as she smiles softly. There’s something magical in the way she holds you, like she’s utterly enchanted by you, and you can feel her love in every touch, every word.

Yelena Belova (Black Widow, Platonic)

- Yelena’s reaction is playful, as always. When she sees you all dressed up, she lets out a dramatic whistle and claps her hands together. “Oh, look at you! Like a supermodel from Vogue!” she exclaims, her voice full of teasing admiration. She circles you with exaggerated flair, like she’s inspecting you. “What’s the occasion? You getting ready to impress some very important people, huh?” she teases, but there’s genuine appreciation in her tone.

- She walks up to you and flicks a piece of your outfit, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Look at this! You put effort into this, didn’t you? Good thing you have me to make sure you don’t trip over those shoes or something,” she says with a smirk, her humor always present. Despite the teasing, Yelena is visibly impressed, and she shows it with her cheeky compliments. “I’m pretty sure heads will turn. If not, I’ll make sure they do!”

- Yelena is a firm believer in boosting you up, and she does it with her own quirky brand of tough love. “Don’t get too used to being all fancy, though. Tomorrow we’ll be back to the tactical suits,” she jokes, nudging you with her elbow. But then she grins, patting your back. “No, seriously—you look amazing. Like, annoyingly amazing.” There’s affection behind her teasing, a silent acknowledgment that she’s proud to have you as her friend.

- As the two of you head out, Yelena sticks by your side, ready to make sure everything goes perfectly. She offers her signature sarcastic commentary throughout the night, but you can feel her warmth behind it all. “If anyone gives you trouble, I’ll handle it,” she says with a wink, half-joking. By the end of the night, she gives you a tight hug. “You clean up good. Next time, you pick the restaurant. I’ll be in charge of not getting us into trouble.”

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raayllum · 19 hours

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Callum is so right about Rayla never doing anything for herself. You could say freeing Runaan was for herself but she also treats it as her "sacred promise" and chose him for Ethari too (shows how great her heart is). You think sparing Callum will finally count as her doing something for herself? Choosing her future and her love for him over the "greater good". She couldn't get her og parents back‚ this girl keeps losing and suffering she seriously deserves more wins

God, I could write an entire meta about that line - maybe one day when I'm feeling self indulgent. In regards to your actual prompt, re: saving Callum will count as something for herself -- a big yes, absolutely, I think! Though I think freeing her parents is something she deeply wanted for herself, too ("I miss you so much" / "so I wanted to do something for yourself for you") even if it was something she was continually putting off till the Aaravos situation, as far as she knew, was resolved

Prior to S6 I went back and forth on whether the show would frame Rayla's end of the possession plot line / trying to get Callum back as either "It doesn't matter what happens to me (again) I just want to save him" (which is what leaving in TTM and other moments was about) OR whether it'd be framed as "I refuse to sacrifice him / something I want (again)" and therefore be character development. I leaned towards the latter for reasons outlined here since the two have the chance to be even more thematically codependent than they already are in terms of their senses of identity:

As long as Callum is Callum (not possessed, or she has reason to believe he’s still in there), Rayla likely won’t be able to bring herself to kill him. This is from an emotional / characterization standpoint, of course, but from a thematic standpoint, we can see where it stems from Callum and Rayla continually being each other’s main connection to their sense of identity. As long as Callum is Callum (“you’re the destiny is a book you write yourself guy”), he’s worth saving. As long as Callum is Callum, she can be Rayla (“Rayla’s brave. She saves people” / “Rayla. My name is Rayla, and I’m going home”). As long as she’s Rayla, he can be Callum. Because if Callum isn’t Callum, then he’s dead, and if he’s dead, she can kill him. And if Rayla kills him, if Callum is dead, then she won’t be Rayla anymore. Because to literally kill Callum would be to simultaneously symbolically/emotionally kill herself.

This goes both ways of course - Callum can't/won't sacrifice Rayla because to do so would be to sacrifice a fundamental part of himself (namely his deep and Pure devotion to others which means he'll never go entirely down the negative side of Viren's path, and keep to the positive - leaving Aaravos, breaking free, etc). This was subtext prior to S6, but now it's actual text (she's his light/truth/hope of salvation, etc) so it goes double going forward. This is true for Rayla too — Callum is her guiding light and her star, he's one of the people who's taught her the most about how to love and the person she wants to be.

With all that in mind, yeah, I do think that Rayla will choose to not sacrifice Callum for the right reasons. Part of this is scaffolded under witnessing Callum not sacrificing her No Matter What prior to her won choice, and realizing "what [she] most deeply desires" isn't just Callum's survival even, but specifically the life they can have together, which she needs to stick around for and thereby not sacrifice herself. Runaan is also explicitly remorseful over the actions he took towards her where he choose duty over love, so Rayla realizing she should choose love over duty ties into them growing together as well in a positive way. We also see her realize some of this I think in choosing to let Lain and Tiadrin stay together rather than separate them specifically because of the Moonphoenix bracelet Callum gave her as well.

"I risked losing the best thing I ever had" because of her own duty turned revenge vs "I refuse to lose either of us like this" and finally fully accepting an assassin was never who she was and never who she Should be, in sacrificing others' lives or her own included. Them both Choosing each other above everything else was exactly what I was hoping for as soon as the "I need you to kill me" plot line started / wrote in my first CHET fic pre-S4 years ago:

She has two options as she pulls away. She can make a grab for her swords and go out, swords blazing. Kill Viren or Aaravos if she can as the sky splits open, purple and thrumming with magic; die with a sword in her hand in all likelihood. The release spell has already started. Or she can help Callum up, and they can live to fight another day—together. Rayla grips the back of his jacket. Presses her forehead to his neck for a second, tears building her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says. His arm tightens around her, like he’s braced for her to go. “Rayla—” “I’m so sorry,” she repeats, sobbing. This is all her fault, but she can’t do that to him. “We have to get out of here.” [...]

Callum is staring at her when she pulls back and she swallows hard. She doesn’t know what to say. It’s both a blessing and a curse when he speaks first. “You chose me,” he says, not quite softly; she can tell there’s a lump in his throat. An edge of anger that not doing so was even an option. “Yeah, well. It was about time,” she says quietly. “I—”

So uh, here's hoping!

#thanks for asking #mutual salvation theory #tategaminu #tdp rayla #s7 speculation #predictions #fic: just wait for me to come home #the moon arcanum connection in that fic being #the light & dark + love for rayla as constant truth + south star #we were all prophets lmao

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whataperfectwasteoftime · 2 days

Text

The Rift - Chapter Nine

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Marcus Acacius x Marcus Pike x f!Reader

Rating: Chapter is T, overall fic is E (18+ only, explicit smut)

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Angst, bad science, happy endings :)

Summary: The Heroics have been working day and night to develop the technology and reopen the Rift. Now that the day has finally come to send Marcus Acacius home, how will the four of you possibly be able to say goodbye?

A/N: HAPPY TRAILER DAY!!!! As a treat, here is the last chapter of this silly little time travel romp. Here we are, friends! This might be a cheesy ending, but this is a cheesy story :) There will be an epilogue to follow... eventually. Thank you everyone for supporting this silly fic!

Masterlist | Chapter Eight | Epilogue

(Pike)

Marcus wakes with a pit of dread in his stomach. He’s never been good at people leaving, and even if the reasons for Marcus Acacius to return to his time are real, concrete, and urgent… it hurts just the same. Inexplicably, it feels like his fault, even if logic tells him this thought is ridiculous.

Losing Marcus Moreno, however, he does consider to be his fault. He should have stood firm, repeating the hero’s directive that Acacius not be seen in public, but all that it took was one look at your hopeful, pleading looks, and he had caved.

If the Heroic never wanted to see any of them again, Marcus would understand.

Even worse is that his connection with you has never felt more tenuous. After everyone else leaves, would you stay? Or is it only the extraordinary circumstances of the Rift that had brought you all together, and when all the reasons to stay are erased, would that be the end?

As he lies in bed with three other bodies–all so precious and dear to him after such a short time–he wishes, nonsensically, that he had more than two arms, so he could hold all of you at once. Already, he feels everything slipping through his fingers.

Marcus isn’t awake for long before both Moreno and Acacius are stirring. He slips his fingers in between the General’s and squeezes hard, trying to communicate everything he’s feeling through their hands. The man gives him a lazy, sleepy smile. His eyes are, as always, twinkling with wit and mischief, but Marcus thinks he can see a sadness behind them this morning.

Or maybe he’s projecting.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

He gives the Heroic a smile, too, but when he looks away with the pain written all over his expression, Marcus feels the impact of it like he’s been punched.

Your eyes slowly blink open, sensing everyone else’s movements, and Marcus presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead.

It will be okay, he thinks, but he’s not sure if he’s communicating telepathically with you or trying to convince himself.

Marcus Acacius dresses, for the first time in weeks, in the clothing he’d been found in. The four of you drink coffee at the kitchen table in silence, and Pike wonders if, like him, nobody else knows what to say.

“I’m having a car sent,” Moreno finally says, breaking a long silence.

“Thoughtful of you,” Marcus deadpans, unable to keep the sarcasm to himself, although he still regrets the remark the moment it leaves his lips.

You shoot him a hurt glance, and he looks away, too ashamed to be able to meet your eyes.

It’s all falling apart around him.

(Moreno)

Marcus sits in the passenger seat while the three of you pile in the back of one of the black SUVs used for special Heroics business. He’s angry still, his powers prickling the nerves at the back of his skull as he tries to check his email on his phone. It’s easier to lean into the anger than to face the emotion that’s clawing at his chest, making him feel as though there’s a deep gash just over his heart.

Hurt.

It’s nonsensical, really–he’s the one pushing himself away; he’s the one who took an oath of solitude and willingly sequestered himself away, choosing loneliness over fear. Over loss. He must do this, and yet it feels like he’s tearing the hole in his heart himself.

It was always meant to be temporary. The only reason the four of them are even together is because of the Rift. When he realizes that, he realizes this was doomed from the start. Marcus Acacius was never supposed to be here, and he was never supposed to receive that visit from Special Agent Pike. He wasn’t supposed to meet you, or drink your beer, or sit at your kitchen table eating dinner as though all of this was normal. It was never normal. Nothing in his life ever is.

When they reach Heroics HQ, Marcus walks briskly down pristine white hallways, letting the three of them fall into place behind him. He leads them to the elevator down to the underground testing labs, where scientists in lab coats are hurrying back and forth, preparing for the final trial of the new technology.

They’re about to rip open space and time itself.

The lead scientist on the project team gives the four of them a spiel that Marcus hardly listens to–the blood is still rushing too loud in his ears. On a nearby desk, a metal-capped pen begins to wiggle back and forth, but no one else takes notice.

You’re all ushered behind thick safety glass as they prepare to open the portal. Marcus watches as the contraption in the middle of the room begins to whir to life, internal mechanisms spinning rapidly until suddenly a blinding beam of light erupts from one end. The entire room crackles with energy, and he can feel all the hair on his body standing up straight. With a high-pitched, deafening sound, the beam grows in intensity until he can no longer look straight at it. Papers begin to flutter off of desks as the air around them whips around at the disturbance. The wind swirls and gusts, getting stronger and stronger. The awful noise reaches a crescendo, when finally, the space seems to be pushed to either side in a small explosion that creates a deafening crack of thunder. The machine powers down, and the blue beam disappears. In its place is… a portal. A portal to another space and time. The air around it crackles violently with energy, and the wind does not settle. He doesn’t remember the Rift being so… violent, but this opening was purposefully created without expending fatal amounts of energy into the lab, instantly killing them all.

“We can’t hold it open for long,” the lead scientist yells through the static. “It’s time.”

Marcus Acacius carefully removes his translator earpiece and places the device gently in Moreno’s palm.

“I am grateful,” the man says in English, looking to each of you in turn, “for your help and… for your… companionship.”

You surge forward and throw your arms around the General’s neck, and he closes his eyes as he winds his arms around your waist and presses you closer for a few moments before letting you go.

“Farewell, expert of Roma,” he teases with a little wink and a kiss on your cheek.

Sniffling, you turn and bury your face in Pike’s chest to hide your tears.

“Take care of her,” the Roman tells him softly, and the Agent nods.

Then, Acacius turns to the hero.

“I am sorry,” he says simply. “You are a good man.”

Next to him, Pike scrubs at his cheek with one hand and turns slightly away, and Marcus feels himself breaking apart.

“I’m sorry too,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean for it to end like this.”

Marcus Acacius gives him a slow, meaningful nod and turns back toward the new Rift. The tears that the hero had been holding back suddenly break free, and he shakes with silent sobs. He’s losing all of you at once. It isn’t until now, when he’s watching it happen, that he realizes he can’t do it anymore.

He can’t live out the rest of his life alone.

Not anymore.

“M–” he makes a small noise in his chest that may have been the start of two different mens’ names, or could have just been a sob. Either way, the eerie crackling of the Rift swallows the sound, and it goes unheard by anyone else.

Desperately, he scrambles with a shaking hand to grasp for someone–anyone–to keep him from drifting away. He manages to clasp the Agent’s wrist, and the man turns, eyes widening at the pathetic tears rolling down Marcus’s cheeks. Wordlessly, he holds out his arm–the one not currently holding you, and the hero doesn’t need to be asked twice. He strides forward and takes his rightful place: holding and being held by you and Marcus Pike.

The Roman, not hearing the commotion behind him, is still walking slowly toward the portal. There’s caution in each step, and Marcus can understand his reluctance. Unlike the first Rift, this one is more turbulent, chaotic, and loud. He wouldn’t want to step through the violently moving air either.

Marcus Acacius reaches out, and part of his hand disappears through the swirling portal.

And he hesitates.

“Sir, the portal is becoming unstable!” One of the Heroics scientists calls out urgently. “You have to go through now.”

Acacius doesn't move.

“I like showers,” he says suddenly in his thick accent. “I like movies. I like pizza. I like museums.” He finally turns around, a brilliant smile across his cheeks. “And I like you. More than any of that.”

He pulls his hand away, and with a deafening crack that sounds like thunder, the portal suddenly collapses on itself, and the room is suddenly eerily silent.

“I… I have seen too many things,” the Roman says, quieter. “I… can not go back.” He looks at Marcus Moreno and adds cautiously, “Will your army of heroes be… not pleased?”

Marcus has been the leader of the Heroics for too long. Once upon a time, he hadn’t been concerned with optics, with red tape, or politics. Once upon a time, he was a man who just wanted to use the gift he had been given for good. To help people. To make a fucking difference.

Once upon a time, Marcus Moreno hadn’t been afraid.

A watery smile spreads across his face.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says shakily. “It pleases you.”

You let out a loud sob and jump into the hero’s arms. The Agent laughs joyfully, brushing away a few tears as he joins in the hug, sandwiching you between them.

Marcus Moreno extends his hand toward the man who is–was–out of his own time. “Stay,” he says simply, although the decision has already been made. “Stay with us.”

The Roman grins widely, and for the first time, Marcus notices the dimple on his cheek. He strides forward and engulfs all three of them in a tight bear hug.

“Domum,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” you agree tearfully. “Let’s go home. …Marcus?”

All three men say “Hmm?” at once.

You laugh. “Okay, we’re going to have to come up with some nicknames.”

#marcus pike #marcus moreno #marcus acacius #the mentalist #we can be heroes #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal

33 notes · View notes