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#dr. b answers
star-killer-md · 1 year
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I’m so glad DALDOM is back!!!
<333
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liyazaki · 7 months
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who thought it was a good idea to send the story progression into overdrive in eps 1-3, only to turn around & induce audience comas in eps 4-5?
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mudzdale · 1 year
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what pokemon do you think kamal n boris would have :o? pkmn and sfm me beloved interests
hmmmMMm that is an EXCELLENT question... what i am thinking is:
boris found himself visited by various ghost types during his college years, where they sought to feed off his negative emotions. he rejected just about every one--he doesn't raise pokemon. he especially doesn't raise grass-types, but that doesn't mean just any pokemon will do.
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...except for one very tenacious gastly. boris found Teefs to be exceedingly charismatic for his kind, and his ability to put others to sleep might come in handy.. someday..... (they're still buddies post-habitat, don't worry 😊 oh, and--don't worry about that unusual lilligant, either. like i said, boris doesn't raise grass types.)
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kamal's current place of work is fancy enough to keep a few company-owned pokemon on hand, to help ease anxious clientele. they like to pair him with Sudsy the froakie, claiming that there's a "resemblance," but kamal doesn't really get it.
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in his personal life, tho... i think we all know what kind of pokemon Mr. Bunnies66 favors (:
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(he plans on applying for a scorbunny as a graduation gift to himself once he gets his doctorate. qualifying for a starter pokemon can be a pain for non-trainers, but he would love to have a running partner for his cycling hobby 😊)
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pancakehouse · 2 years
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respond whenever you can!!! i’m chillin plus i’m at work majority of the day anyways :( diff topic now i am going to be a witch!!!! i still have to find bottoms and a hat but the top is a lacy bit flowy long sleeve shirt!!! i love dressing up in costumes it’s so much fun! last year i was a hippie one night and a cowgirl the other!!!
but i’ve been reading so many diff fics i can’t even keep up w them bc majority of them are wips!!! but the main (and long) ones i’m reading rn are disintegration by moonymoment, crimson rivers by zeppazariel, and kill your darling by messermoon all on ao3!!! that last one is a hockey au and it just hits that sweet spot :)) and ofc ofas <3 also!!! i am always open to fic recs i will never ever turn them down heh
and he’s our remus lupin david thewlis!! i love that man w my whole heart he’s just so <3<3<3 even in his old age he looks good!!! the sandman is on my watchlist tho! ever since i found out he’s in it i’ve wanted to watch it!!! but from what i have watched of criminal minds it’s. so. good. i’ve only watched a handful of shows bc my bestie or my sister was watching it!! still so v good tho!!
i will most likely stay on anon bc i like the mysterious-ness of it all lmao it’s fun and hip!! but i am grateful that you’re so nice and friendly!! maybe one day i will come off nonnie!!! not today tho >:)
-tennis anon
A WITCH!! that is so spooky babe so edgy, a classic for a reason i LOVE a lacy flowy top!! also cowgirl oh em gee i need to know everything! you know i do think cowgirl is peak, my cousin's getting married next year and we're buying all sorts of shit for her bachelorette weekend n a pink sparkly cowgirl fit is number ONE on my agenda (think harry styles at coachella) bc it's really just such a slay!!!!
okay love moonymoment jude, can't go wrong with jude's writing they're a genius and a visionary! i have been super super tempted to start crim rivers bc im a slut for hunger games content so maybe i'll wait til it's done and binge it all in one go! (i did read the bonus alt ending MCD chapter and..like. sobbed. fetal positon, rocking back and forth, will never function the same way again. sobbed. it was painful.) (kinda fun to do with zero context too. gorgeous writing, but 0/10, will never be reading it ever again. i choose joy from now on!!! but now im dying to read the whole thing)
david thewlis is the best!!!! i need to watch some of his older stuff, i think he's got such a classic post-first war remus feel yknow, like that man has seen things he's been through it he's operating with some sexy damaged psyche energy. major hot girl trauma vibes !!!
you are the FUNNIEST and HIPPEST anon that has ever anon'd babe!!!! sooo mysterious so witchy so spooky so on theme for this month!!!! sending you so much love and good vibes my fave enigmatic stranger bestie!!!! mwah mwah xoxoxo
(p.s. since it seems like you're a jegulus stan might i recommend my bestie em's amazing fic. it's jegulus (/wolfstar) - fake dating, fake sex, copious pining, n the funniest thing your eyeballs will ever be blessed with <3)
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starlightkun · 7 months
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lmao i saw this on my dash and was wondering if you felt this way
https://www.tumblr.com/16woodsequ/727490027584667648?source=share
cause you rarely write drabbles, everything you write is like full fic length and takes longer and i see you posting little progress updates and little notes about each fic without spoiling. as someone who likes to talk (may or may not be the adhd idk) i cant imagine being in your position like WEREWOLF SUNGCHAN! EXISTS! IN MY MIND! AND ON THIS DOCUMENT THAT YOU CANT SEE! BUT HE'S REAL!! HE'S REAL TO ME!! like how do you do it? having no one to scream to about your fics when you're writing? and having to wait until its completed and uploaded to have people to talk about it with? like especially with all the crack fics you're writing atm, i would be BURNING with the need to show people how funny your writing is
p.s. medication update: im going to switch from methylphenidate to dexamphetamine tmr because apparently im intolerant to ritalin and i think you're on dexamphetamine rn? im hoping that i see some benefits from it. btw your success is keeping some of my spirit and motivation up despite how abysmal ritalin was for me so thank you for posting about how Adderall was for you i really appreciate having someone experiencing meds alongside me 🫶🏻
-✨anon
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LMAO sometimes that's me and sometimes i'm writing and i'm like "im never letting another living human see this abomination im writing rn this is the worst thing i've ever written and the only penance for what i've done is to throw myself off a cliffside" like there is no in between im either SO EXCITED FOR IT AND ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT AND AM SO AKSEGKJHKJGKTR or i think it's awful and consider deleting it almost immediately after like this scene for changer2 im writing rn like literally as i got this ask (im not gonna delete it but she is gonna b HEAVILY EDITED)
it's fr so hard having werewolf sungchan AND hockey player sungchan BOTH IN MY MIND RN LIKE 🤪 screams everyday i put on my uniform to go fight in the idgaf war on the side of gaf 🫡🫡🤪🤪🫡🤪🫡🤪🤪🤣🤣🫡🤪🤪🫡 lest we also not forget that single dad kun is in here too and some other fellas that yall dont know abt like its soooooo bad in here for me
sometimes i contemplate posting random one-liners or snippets when i write things that make me teehee extra hard or r like rlly 🔥🔥🚨🚨🚨 but i always get worried about spoilers versus teasers soooo i keep it locked away all to myself and maybe go a lil crazy idk who's to say so i do more vague type stuff like talking about how there's a 2.6k makeout scene without posting any actual lines from it, or saying that one of my favorite character bits that i think is genuinely super funny is in dr. magic but not saying what it is, etc., etc., OR also doing ask games like word in a wip where y'all can try to get some lil snippets from me (which i feel i am always very generous with lol)
p.s. to ur p.s.: very happy to hear that you're getting switched off the meds that weren't working for you! i'm on "amphetamine salts" (generic adderall) which is a combo of dextroamphetamine and levoamphetamine, but pretty much yeah it's the big one in the amphetamine class of adhd meds. it has a sightly different effect than dextroamphetamine alone since it has levoamphetamine as well, which lasts longer and can produce better results in some people (pls go w ur dr on this im not giving medical advice omg just what i learned in my psych classes and the information i've been given). i actually just saw my dr today to check in on how i was doing on the adderall (reg check-up appt). i was rlly worried bc the initial good results i saw in the first days were practically gone after like the first week and i was practically back to normal (i.e., bad. my kitchen is a fucking mess again) and when i told him that he was like "lol that's fine! that was just the trial dose! so we can up you to a normal dose now since you saw good results at first" so hopefully i'll be functioning again 👍 so i love this for us 🫶 rooting for us 🫶🫶
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fixomnia-scribble · 1 year
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Scientists are very serious.
This is a post about science. And soup.
Dr. Elinne Becket, a microbiologist from Cal State University, is in the middle of one of those Fridge Experiments that happens to us all - except in this case, she is uniquely placed to unravel the science down to the microbial level.
While cleaning out her fridge, Dr. Becket found that a tub of family-recipe beef vegetable soup had turned bright blue. “Ok I'm outing myself here,” she tweeted, “but there was forgotten beef soup in our fridge we just cleaned it out and it was BLUE?!?!? Wtf contam would make it blue??? Like BRIGHT blue!!  Even w/ all my years in micro I'm not handling this well.“
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Read on for a breathless and ongoing saga of Soup and Science, and the wonderful international community that is Academic Twitter.
Academic Twitter quickly reminded her of her Responsibilities to Scientific Inquiry. (Cue the chanting from around the world of “CLONE THE SOUP! CLONE THE SOUP!”)
“I can’t believe y’all talked me into going back into the trash.” she tweeted in response, over a photo of a puddle of beautiful Mediterranean-sea blue soup in the trash bin, with bits of veg and noodles arising from the depths.
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Scientists being scientists, Dr. Becket agreed to take a sample and send it to colleagues for cloning and microbial analysis.This involved getting arms-deep into the trash bin of Old Soup. “I’m never forviging @ATinyGreenCell (genomic biologist Sebastian Cocioba) for this.” Dr. Becket tweeted, with a photo of a properly dipped and snipped and VERY blue q-tip in a small clear plastic tub.
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Diving into decomposing soup was not the only hazard. She writes: “My mom (who made the soup for my birthday) came across this thread and now 1) I have to answer for letting her soup spoil and 2) she's worried @ATinyGreenCell will figure out her secret recipe.“
Dr. Becket and Sebastian were able to culture the Blue Goo!
Becket posted a photo of three petri plates of streaked beef bouillon agar at 72 hours incubation, at 37C, room temp and 4C. She writes: “Left the plates where they were for another 2 days, except the 37°C one was brought to RT, which then grew white stuff over the yellow stuff and stinks to high heaven. RT looked the same. 4°C had impressive growth. Restreaked them all onto TECH agar, awaiting results!”
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Sebastian, from his lab, tweeted a photo of three more covered petri dishes, with early results: “Great progress on isolating the glowy microbe from our #BlueSoup! It's so fluorescent the streak is GREEN. Still needs another restreak as it seems there is a straggler but should clear up in the next plate. Exciting!”
Then yesterday, Sebastian tweeted out an updated photo of his plates under daylight and blacklight. “Whatever grew on the #BlueSoup colony plates overnight glows under UV, but only on King's Agar B! That particular media is used to tease out fluorescein expression in pseudomonads. What are the chances that the same cell line expresses fluorescent AND blue pigments?“
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“Looking closer, there definitely is a handful of different microbes showing distinct phenotypes. Could be that the blue producer and the fluorescent microbes are totally different microbes!”
At which point, Professor Cynthia Whitchurch of Norwich, England, responded: “Consistent with P. fluorescens being at least part of the #BlueSoup community. The fluorescence is due to production of the siderophore pyoverdine which is up-regulated when iron availability is limited. P. aeruginosa produced this too but my guess is you have blue Pf.”
And Australian agricultural researcher @WAJWebster helpfully tweeted a petri dish of ALL KINDS of colourful bacterial colonies from white to yellow to orange to stark black, with a cheerful: “You need bact-o--colours? I got you, fam.”
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The best part is that as of today, March 9, 2023, THE BLUE SOUP MYSTERY CONTINUES. WE ARE WATCHING SCIENCE HAPPENING!
A paper is being written. And Dr. Becket’s mum is getting an author credit as the proprietary owner of the #BlueSoup recipe.
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Dr. Becket’s Twitter is here: https://twitter.com/bielleogy
Sebastian Cocioba’s Twitter is here: https://twitter.com/ATinyGreenCell
Fun IFLS story is here: https://www.iflscience.com/microbiologist-investigates-after-her-beef-soup-turned-blue-in-the-freezer-67894?fbclid=IwAR0H27KqVZhzzrosnjzzKkxuKASZ-0L0Lt6hGwCRDJK8xvFbbSlyS4JvwlM
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soaps-mohawk · 3 months
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful
Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. 
Pairing: Poly 141 x reader
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.
A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
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“How are you settling in?” 
“Fine.” You shrug. 
“Any instinct to nest at all?” 
You shake your head. “No.” 
“That’s fine.” Dr. Keller says, writing something down. “It’s only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?” 
You shake your head again. “No.” 
Dr. Keller tilts her head. “Why not?” 
You shrug again. “He hasn’t brought it up.” 
“Is that something you’d like to start doing?” 
Her question catches you off guard again. You’re not used to being asked what you want, afterall you’re an omega. That’s not important. You’re here to serve. To do as you’re told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and it’s over. 
“I...I don’t know.” You say, picking at your sleeve. 
“You’re allowed to want things too.” Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. “I highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone.” She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. “Is there anything you want or maybe need that you haven’t asked for?” 
Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as he’s supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you. 
To go back in time and never present as an omega. 
“No.” You finally answer, shaking your head. “I’m fine.” 
Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying this, but it’s important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?” 
“Yes, ma’am.” You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze. 
She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. “The two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?” She continues with her questions.
“Fine.” You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. “They’re easiest to get along with.” 
Dr. Keller nods. “Good. I’m a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?” 
“Fine I guess.” You shrug. “I nap a lot.” 
“There’s nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.” Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 
You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. It’s beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. You’ll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you. 
You just have to ask. 
It’s the asking that you’re not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. They’re supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Price’s hesitation to move forward has been because he’s waiting on you. 
They’re all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. They’re waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow? 
“I’m affecting them.” You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 
Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. “What do you mean?” 
“They’re soldiers. They’re good soldiers with years and years of training, that’s why they're here. But...but I’m changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when I’m not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.”
You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if you’re not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. They’re slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that you’ve opened that dam, you can’t stop it. 
“Price made them run through it five times and they still couldn’t match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how I’m affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldn’t stop thinking about...” 
You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if you’re trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you can’t breathe and it suffocates you. 
“What if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know that’s a risk, a low one, but it’s still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. That’s why I can’t know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasn’t supposed to.” 
You’re breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Keller’s eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most you’ve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel you’ve ever spoken to her in the two times now that you’ve met.
It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust won’t tell anyone. You couldn’t voice these fears to your pack. They’re used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? You’ve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you can’t see? 
How many scars do they have inside, too? 
“I want you to know that your fears are very valid.” Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. “Being involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I can’t promise you that something like that won’t ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.” 
Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where she’d been wearing glasses earlier. 
“That risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your pack’s. You’re on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.” She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. “And I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas can’t fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.” 
She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know they’d never let anything happen to you, but they’re going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while they’re not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you? 
“I guess you’re right.” You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, you’ll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt.  
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The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. There’s something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents. 
You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. It’s not terribly late, but you’ve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller. 
“Be ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.” 
It’s a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? That’s the earliest you’ve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping. 
You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know that’s the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. That’s usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast. 
You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, it’s not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. You’ve never been a fan of total darkness. You’d grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind. 
A nightlight. 
You add it to the mental list of things you want, but you’ll never feel brave enough to ask for. 
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Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesn’t feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because you’ve slept so long into the day. 
You don’t doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. He’ll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldn’t punish you if you went against his wishes, would he? 
You don’t know that. 
You haven’t even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You don’t want to. You’re a good omega. 
You’re a good omega. 
You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming that’s what Price means by “something meant for the outdoors.” Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected you’d be pulled into something like this eventually. 
You’re debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if he’s perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadn’t mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway. 
He doesn’t say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and they’re nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips. 
Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. There’s two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you. 
“What are we doing?” You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest. 
“Going for a hike.” He says, putting on the other backpack. 
“Why?” You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself. 
“I’ll explain when we get there.” He says simply, motioning for you to follow him. 
You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base. 
Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely it’s more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadn’t he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing. 
Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know. 
Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesn’t lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you. 
Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? You’ve seen Brave, but that’s in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England? 
You’re on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous. 
Your pack won’t let anything happen to you. 
Dr. Keller’s words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. You’re not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness. 
You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then. 
“What’s eating you back there?” Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush. 
“There’s nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?” You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. “Bears or mountain lions?” 
Price chuckles. “The worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.” 
“Oh.” You say, shining the flashlight around you. “That’s good.” 
Price stops, turning to face you. “You’re fretting.” 
“Well, we’re in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you won’t tell me why, sir.” You pout. 
“Do you trust me?” He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes. 
You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. “Should I trust you?” 
He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. “That’s something you have to decide.” He turns back around, starting to walk again. “All I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, you’re the one that decides if I’m trustworthy or not.” 
You’ve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasn’t proven you wrong yet, but then again...it’s only been a week. You’ve known him for a week and you’re following him through the woods alone in the dark. 
Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now. 
“Do you trust me?” You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions. 
“You haven’t given me reason not to.” He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. “I’d prefer it stayed that way.” 
“I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think I’m much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I don’t think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.” 
Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Simon...Simon is a unique case. He’s good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. I’m sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldn’t stand him at first. Now look at them.” He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. “He only sees you as a threat in your nature.” 
You frown, glancing up at the sky. It’s beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. “What do you mean by that, sir?” 
“You’re an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if you’re not used to it.” He explains. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Simon isn’t the most open man.” 
You snort quietly. “Hadn’t noticed, sir.” 
Price chuckles at your answer. “You’re threatening to him, because you’re a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as I’m sure it is for you too.” 
You don’t know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you don’t even know yet is a major adjustment. 
Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long. 
“How much further?” You ask as he drinks his own water. 
“Quite a ways.” He answers. 
“Can I know why we’re doing this yet?” You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack. 
“Not yet.” He says, continuing onward.
You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You don’t have much of a choice. 
Your legs are beginning to get tired, and you’re starting to feel a bit hungry. You’re not sure if you should say anything, or if he’d even stop. You assume he’s packed food, or at least you hope so. You’re going to get grumpy if you’re traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat. 
Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. You’re sore and tired, your phone telling you you’ve been walking for just over two hours. 
How big is this base?
You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. It’s not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods you’ve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in. 
“Not scared of heights, are you?” Price asks, standing beside you. 
“Maybe.” You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top. 
“Come on.” He says, nudging you forward gently. “Up the stairs.” 
The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you don’t think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe you’ll even get to eat. 
Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldn’t be surprised if they’re bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. You’re breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesn’t even seem winded behind you, and you’re sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to. 
The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor. 
“Can I know why we’re here now?” You ask him. 
“Drink some water and take a breath first.” He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MRE’s. 
You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MRE’s of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. There’s things in the other pockets but you don’t bother looking, guzzling down more water. 
You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MRE’s cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below. 
“Can I know now?” You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here. 
“A training exercise.” He says finally. 
“A training exercise?” You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasn’t a training exercise for you, was it? 
“Sometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.” He explains. “We have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.” 
You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. “So, they’re hunting a scent that will lead them here?” 
Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. “Technically, they’re hunting you.” 
Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. You’re well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. There’s some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. You’re well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench. 
“You gave me the idea.” Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. “When you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.” 
“Do they...do they know it’s me?” You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity. 
“They do now.” He says with a smirk. “They’ve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then they’ll be here in about an hour.” He says, looking at his watch. 
You frown a little. “But...we walked for two hours.” 
He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadn’t noticed until now. “That trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.” 
Your frown deepens. “But-” 
“We weren’t walking in a straight line.” He explains. “We doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.” He passes you one of the MRE’s. “That’s what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You don’t fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.” 
“Yes, sir.” You say, sitting down again. You don’t think you’d do much damage fighting anyway, but you don’t tell him that. 
You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you don’t really care. You’re so hungry you’ll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. It’s quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds. 
You’ve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin. 
They’re not from the cold either. 
The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You haven’t seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and you’re sure you’re not going to see much of it for quite a long while. 
“What’s got you all twitchy over there?” Price asks, breaking the silence. 
You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. “How can you tell?” 
“I’ve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.” He says, grinning at you. “Your fingers always get fidgety first. Like you’re looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.” 
Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area. 
“Your eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like you’re searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.” He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. “Your breathing always picks up, fast enough it’s noticeable if you’re paying attention. It’s easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.” 
Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You won’t be able to hide anything from him. 
He probably knows you already have. 
You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head. 
Don’t back down. 
Don’t back down. 
Don’t back down. 
A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. You’re panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. He’s won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him. 
“Innocent little thing, aren’t ya?” He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets. 
You know he smokes, you know they all do. You’ve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadn’t started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. “Dirty habit.” She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment. 
He could have had worse ones, you always thought. 
You can’t help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldn’t have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness. 
You wonder how many times they’ve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas he’s been with. You can’t imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck... 
Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart. 
“What’s going through that head of yours?” Price asks, still staring at you. 
“Soap almost kissed me a couple days ago.” You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things you’re thinking about. 
Price’s brows lift in surprise. “Did you not want him to?” 
Want. There’s that word again. You keep hearing it, but you’re not entirely sure what it means anymore. He’s asking to be sure that Soap didn’t force you into anything, even though you can’t imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually weren’t aggressive without good reason, not like alphas. 
“Well...no, that’s not it...” You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. “I...I haven’t kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didn’t want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.” 
Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. You’ve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out. 
“Is that so?” He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. “Not even a real kiss before you presented?” 
You shake your head. “No. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.” 
“Why didn’t you want Soap to kiss you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. He’s still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action. 
“Well...it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want it.” You say. “I just...thought you might be upset...if you weren’t my first...” You swallow nervously at his stare. “Since you’re pack alpha...you have the right to claim-” 
“I wouldn’t care.” He cuts you off, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. “If you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldn’t keep yourself from what you want.” 
His words echo Dr. Keller’s. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. You’re an omega, you don’t get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You don’t make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha. 
“I don’t know what I want.” You say quietly. 
“Think about it.” He says, stubbing out his cigar. “I won’t be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.” 
You try not to smile at his words. “I mean...you are, in a way.” 
He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. “You’re trouble. We’ve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Let’s see if they can beat it.” 
You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. You’re still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion. 
You want to kneel for him. 
You’re saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. You’ve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. It’s a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase. 
Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin. 
“Aye, we found the target!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.
You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you can’t help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and you’ll be feeling it for a few days. 
“Not bad.” Price says, looking at his watch. “For the first time with a new scent.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back and you can have the rest of the day off.” 
You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. “You mean we have to walk back too?” 
“It’s not even a kilometer.” Gaz says with a grin. 
You pout. “I don’t know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.” 
“You didn’t stretch before you started?” Soap asks. 
“No! I didn’t know we’d be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!” You continue to pout. 
“Come on, you’ll survive.” Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. “You can sleep for the rest of the day.” 
You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. You’re going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because they’re worried about you. You’re still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base. 
Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. “Hop on, hen.” 
It takes you a moment to conceptualize what he’s doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style. 
“I’ve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.” He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you. 
“Well, omegas are supposed to be small.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. 
“Aye, like a wee bairn.” Soap laughs. 
He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep. 
You’re jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. “We’re back, hen.” 
You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. “Comfy.” 
“You’ll be comfier in bed, love.” Gaz says, stroking your hair. 
“Carry me.” You murmur, both of them freezing. 
“You sure about that, hen?” Soap asks. “You wan’t tae let us in your space?” 
“Mmm...yeah.” You murmur, nuzzling Soap’s shoulder. 
You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gaz’s hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omega’s space. It’s sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental. 
Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet. 
“That’s going to hurt later.” He whispers. “No wonder she didn’t want to walk back.” 
“Didnae say nothing either.” Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek. 
“Stubborn little omega.” 
Gaz’s words are the last you hear before you’re lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally. 
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It’s knocking at the door that wakes you. You’re not sure what time it is, or what planet you’re on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. You’re in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again. 
It’s still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You can’t tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions. 
“C’mon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.” Soap’s voice calls through the door. 
You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You haven’t even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You don’t want to get up. You’re going to be sore and probably walking with a limp. 
You know what they’re going to think. 
The stares you’ll get. 
Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then they’ll be used to it and it’ll be much less mortifying for you. 
You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?” Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy. 
“Almost 1800 hours.” He answers. “Price let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.” 
You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then you’d be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room. 
“Get some shoes on.” Soap says. “We’ll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.” 
You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend. 
Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need. 
“I recommend coffee.” A voice says behind you. 
You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. It’s the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare. 
“You look like you need it.” He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and you’re the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. “I’m Corporal McKinney.” 
You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and you’re starting to realize you prefer it that way. 
An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. It’s rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger. 
“Can I help you, Corporal?” The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all you’d have to do was lean back slightly and you’d be touching him. 
The soldier’s eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. “No, sir.” The soldier swallows thickly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured we’d be seeing a lot of her around.” 
“She’s no concern of yours.” Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. “You were given the briefing.” 
He hesitates and you know he’s measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. It’s not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. “Of course, sir.” He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess. 
“What do you want?” 
You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. You’re shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.
“To drink.” He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer. 
You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what you’re looking at. You’re on edge, on high alert after that confrontation. 
“W-Water please.” You manage to stutter out, 
“Go sit back down. I’ll get it.” He says, turning his back to you. 
You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. You’re getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. It’s alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega. 
“Ye alright, hen?” Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once. 
You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” 
Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again. 
“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a long drink of it. It’s ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit. 
You’re still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know you’re safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything. 
Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you. 
You’re still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You don’t doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it? 
You're drawn from your thoughts as Soap’s phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you. 
You’re left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once you’re done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. You’re still a bit shaken, though you’ve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent. 
He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but you’re eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks. 
You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghost’s steps faltering as well. 
“Gonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?” A voice calls out across the courtyard. “I’m sure I could offer you a better time. At least you’ll be able to see my face.” 
The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. You’re trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins. 
The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. “Gonna take me up on my offer, omega?” The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. It’s wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. “I’d love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-” 
It’s not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists they’ve closed into. You’re breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghost’s jacket. 
“-You even so much as look in her direction again, I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?” The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists. 
“Loud and clear, sir.” The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch. 
A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as you’re half dragged towards the barracks. You’re breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. You’re led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside. 
“Sit.” He snaps, pointing at the couch.
You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. It’s still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch. 
He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. “It’s not broken.” He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. “Luckily.” 
You’re still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when you’d been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding you’re sure you’re due for doing such a thing.
“I shouldn’t have done that.” You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your  body looking in. 
“Probably not.” Ghost says. 
You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. “Price is gonna find out.”
Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. “He’ll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, he’s going to believe you over what anyone else says.” 
You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there. 
“You’re a purebred alpha.” You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax. 
“How did you figure it out?” He asks, not denying it. 
“Your scent.” You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadn’t just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. “It’s different from other alphas. Price smells good and I’d like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.” You say, turning slowly to face him. “Makes sense you’d end up in a position like this. You’re supposed to be like, an apex human.” You laugh quietly. “Just a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?” 
“Very high.” He answers. 
You laugh again. “Yeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.” Your brows pinch into a frown. “I didn’t see it in your file, though.” 
“I don’t want it to be.” He explains. 
“Makes sense.” You say. “If I’d had that choice I’d have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, that’s how they measure your worth. It’s not about you anymore, it’s your status they want.” You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit. 
“It’ll bruise.” He says, staring down at your hand. 
“‘Spose it could have been worse.” You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.
“Yeah,” He scoffs. “You could have broken your arm with a punch like that.” 
“‘S not my fault the CIA didn’t teach me much.” You murmur. “They mostly made me run.” You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again. 
Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. You’d considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind? 
“Teach me to fight.” 
His eyes shift slowly until he’s looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years. 
“Or, at least defend myself.” You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. “I know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.”
He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring. 
You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since he’s actually your alpha? 
“Fine.” He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. “We start Monday. Early.” 
A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghost’s heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence. 
Monday. Early. 
You’ll be ready. 
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Taglist Part 1:
@bobaprint, @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10
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star-killer-md · 2 years
Note
Hi!! I love your kylo fics so much!!!!! They are so amazing 🥵😩🥴 thank you thank you!!!!!!
Oh thank you!! 💖 glad you enjoyed !
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luvvyouforever · 24 days
Text
harvey (sdv) - nsfw alphabet <3
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-> there is not nearly enough harvey content on tumblr for my liking. SO two harvey posts in a row, yes i do believe. and i do love reading an sfw/nsfw alphabet so of course i have to provide for our favorite nerdy doctor <3 i also want you to know that as i write this, i imagine harvey as a taller, bigger man. so like he's got some chub on him and he's got broad shoulders. idk idk it's my headcanon.
-> this is nsfw and dirty! like i really tried to get over my reservations about using descriptive language. with that being said, NSFW 18+ MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI MDNI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
harvey is the sweetest, most gentlemanly partner after sex. he makes sure that you get cleaned up, that you protect yourself against any UTIs or other gross things, makes you some coffee or tea, and cuddles with you endlessly. harvey would need some extra reassurance that what he did was good, that you enjoyed it, or that you didn't get hurt. he'd get anxious and worry about it for the rest of the night if you didn't offer him some kind of honest discussion.
b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
i think he appreciates his arms and hands! he knows that he has some strength and likes when you can grip on to his biceps in the heat of the moment. knows how to work his hands i mean, come on. he can do minor surgical interventions. if you hold onto his arm while you're walking in town, he'd get all blushy.
as for you, he truthfully loves every part of you. if you ever asked him "what part of me is your favorite?" he would actually stress over it and couldn't answer. however, if you really really wanted him to say, he would choose your eyes. there's nothing better to him than looking at them when he's giving you pleasure. sends him reeling, actually.
c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
i don't think harvey is particularly keen on making a mess, especially of the bed or another surface. he'd try to keep his cum inside of you, or at least contained to an easily wipeable surface (like your face). on the down low though, i truthfully think he'd surprisingly enjoy cumming on your face, mainly around your lips. messy oral? he's done for.
d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
meeting dr. harvey in his office for a confidential check-up? hmm. definitely not when you first start dating, but give him some time and you may just find yourself on his desk (never in the actual, sterile field) receiving a little extra attention wink wink nudge nudge
e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
he has plenty of knowledge about anatomy, trust me. he never struggles with finding your best spots. however, he struggles with foreplay and building intimacy and dirty talk, etc. he's a nerd! what can i say? tell him what you like, guide him, and help him and he'd be confident in no time. he's a quick learner.
f = favorite position (this goes without saying)
so, i think there are two sides to harvey. he is either incredible slow, passionate, and earnest. this lends itself to something simple like missionary where he can stare into your eyes, kiss you, tell you sweet things, etc. his other side comes out later, when he's gotten more comfortable with you and with himself, and he can get a little rougher or faster or intense. he likes to be able to grip on to you so something like doggy, maybe riding?
g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
harvey can't help but be clumsy sometimes. he learns to be able to giggle at himself when his hand misses the bed and he falls. he also can't help but giggle when hair gets caught in your mouth or some other silly thing. however, he likes to keep things intimate and prefers to have a serious moment with you in bed.
h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
i don't think he fully shaves, he just doesn't strike me as that kinda guy with his mustache. but i do think he trims it, kinda manscapes it a little bit to tame everything down but he likes to have a little hair down there.
i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
loves making sex romantic. he doesn't do it often, but on special days like your anniversary or birthday, he will harvest some flowers from the farm and throw the petals around the room, open up some freshly made wine, and showers you in affection. as for every day sex, he still likes to make it special for you and never backs down on his pure, teeth-hurting sweetness.
j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)
i think that he is the kinda guy that starts feeling guilty for masturbating after he gets into a relationship. prefers to just wait for you. however, before your relationship, he would masturbate every once in a while when he was stressed or horny. if he ever watched porn, which i feel like would be very rare for him, he wouldn't watch highly produced, fake porn. it would have to be something amateur. (harvey has a secret twitter account)
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
okay so...i think harvey starts out vanilla. when you're getting to know him and for the first few times you have sex, he keeps it simple. mainly out of nervousness. however, i think he's kinkier than we might assume. i think he really enjoys being praised and praising you. i think, too, he likes feeling big and strong in that he gives in to his possessiveness sometimes, and he likes being able to manhandle you a little bit. also, i propose this everyone....bondage? nothing super strong! just with his tie or belt. and your hands. to the headboard.
l = location (favorite places to do the do)
your bedroom, mostly! he has a reputation that he needs to uphold so anything in public is nerve wracking. but with some convincing, like i said, his fancy office is not totally off limits.
m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
seeing you do anything! especially if you're really determined to get something done and you're working hard at it! like, you've been working so damn hard on renovating and cleaning the farm and you come back proud of everything you've done, he will look at you with a glow in his face. kisses on the neck, too!
n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
i don't think he'd ever hurt you. it's just not something he could ever see himself doing. he doesn't mind seeing like fingertip marks on you the day after but anything like choking, spanking, etc is out of the question. he also would find rudeness a turn off in a person. like he would hate to see anyone be rude to another person and it would take away from someone's attractiveness immediately! (that's not to say that he doesn't enjoy some town gossip here and there)
o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
my first headcanon here is that harvey LOVES giving oral and on the days when he hasn't cleanly shaved his face, his stubble leaves marks around your thighs. okay, now that that's out of the way: harvey is such a pleaser and he'd do anything to make sure you feel good. he likes when you guide his head, mouth, or hands and he likes being told if you want more, or faster, or less. as for him receiving, i think he enjoys it but he gets so in his head that he can't really cum from it. it takes some extra praise and reassurance to get him to fully open up.
p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
like every other answer here, it depends on his mood! he can get really fast when he's feeling extra needy or kinky. however, when he's trying to be romantic, he will take his sweet time and go nice and slow with his thrusts, movements, touches. however, i think he could also use slowness to his advantage and tease you.
q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
prefers to take his time but sometimes he likes to catch you before you wake up and start working on the farm and before he has to go to work. he enjoys these more than he will admit to himself though and he thinks it can be fun!!
r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
he's down to try new things, don't get me wrong! if you wanna try something new, he'll let you to an extent but he won't do anything that comes with a dangerous outcome or health risk! like, sure, he might be down to try some new rope positions but he won't dare put chocolate sauce around his genitals. do you know the bacteria risks that can come with that??
s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
i don't think he has very high stamina. it's not that he gets really sleepy after, but he can't go for multiple rounds. maybe two if it's been a long time since he's seen you. he can last a while though, i think. he won't cum the minute he engages in anything and with his anxiety, it may even take him a while to get to that point.
t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he doesn't mind bringing out a vibrator because he knows how good it could make you feel. he doesn't like them on himself though! he doesn't mind taking a trip out to zuzu and hitting up a sex shop to buy some new bondage-y toys. they will be thoroughly cleaned though. why would nipple clamps be any less clean than forceps?
u = unfair (how much they like to tease)
he doesn't do it with malice in his heart, trust me. he just likes seeing you on edge, waiting for him of all people, begging for more pleasure. he experiments to see how long you can go for, or how far he can drag out oral. he definitely enjoys it more than he'd let on. oh, and, i leave you with this, imagine harvey offering fake pity and cooing at you:
"my poor flower...you must want it so bad!"
v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
keeps quiet, mostly. some interjections of grunts and groans, especially when he cums. he uses his voice more for sweet talk! he loves hearing your noises, though, and it gives him more encouragement than anything.
w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
the first time you called him dr. harvey in a joking, yet somewhat flirtatious manner, he blushed and got incredibly flustered. then, you did it again, and it had the same effect. and then...oh lord. your hands were roaming his body and you, just testing the waters, called him dr. harvey and he could have finished right there.
x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
he's big guys, i'm sorry. nerdy white men are always packing. i headcanon him as a big boy and it's only fitting that he's proportionate. more thickness than length. he was a little ashamed the first time you had sex but he realized just how good it feels and it makes him proud. big dick energy if you will.
y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
i think he has a fluctuating sex drive. during flu and cold season, he is so stressed and likes to come back and make dinner, cuddle, and go to bed. however, during the summer, when everyone is healthy and only needs some aloe vera gel for sunburns, he could go day after day with you. it just all depends on his mood and the time of the year.
z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
he enjoys cuddling and talking after sex but give him an hour and the man is CONKED. he's the older bachelor so of course he's a sleepy man. cuddle up to his chest, open up the window to let fresh air or the sounds of rain float in, and he'll be like a baby.
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help-itrappedmyself · 2 months
Text
Dead On Main AU Part 4
Masterpost
Jason listens carefully to Jazz’s half of the conversation, but Jazz seems to be mostly listening. Jazz says he’s taking him to Nasty for dinner, which Jason can’t say he’s excited about. He doesn’t know if Nasty is supposed to be describing the food or the place. Either way it is not comforting that whatever Nasty is, it is somehow a better source of food than his soulmate’s house. 
Eventually Jazz hands the phone back to him. 
“Everything good?” Jason asks.
“Yeah, your dad, Dick, and Tim are going to be driving me over, but It’s a long drive so Jazz will get you dinner and then you can do whatever. I have a gaming system, and you’re welcome to use my bed. If you need help finding clothes, or really with anything, then Jazz will help you.”
“Got it.” Long drive with B, Dick, and Tim. They’re all going to interrogate him immediately. While he’s trapped in a box with them for hours. “Hey, my family is really nosy and they will pry and they have no emotional cues so they will not know when to stop. Just… Tell them if they’re bothering you, and you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.” Jason doesn’t know who will be worse in this scenario. Bruce is going to interrogate him for literally everything, Dick is probably going to be all relationships and feelings, Tim is a nice in-between which just means he’ll probably support any and all interrogating. 
“Same goes for you. Jazz is studying to be a psychologist, and my entire family forgets that we’re not all test subjects for whatever they’re working on. Mom and Dad with their gadgets, and Jazz with her… studying and analyzing you. There are no boundaries.” 
“Oh, I’m familiar with that concept.” Jason chuckled.
“Well, given the circumstances I’d say if we can survive each other’s families that’s probably a pretty good sign.”
Kid is probably right. Fate and everything. 
Jazz goes out to clear a path to the door, making sure there are no weapons to run into. When she gets back she leads Jason out, but when they get to the ground floor Jason is grabbed. 
“Happy Birthday Dann-o!” The person holding him is tall. Very tall compared to Danny, and taller than Jason in his regular body. He has black hair and it looks like he's wearing a jumpsuit. After squeezing to the point where Jason couldn't breath for a second Jazz gets the man to put him down. 
“Dad, this isn't Danny right now.” 
“What do you mean princess, of course it is!” 
A woman comes around the corner to stand next to the man, she is also in a jumpsuit but she has Jazz’s red hair.
“Guys, it's his sixteenth birthday.” So Danny's parents remember his birthday but not how old he is? Could be that they’ve forgotten the significance of a person’s sixteenth birthday, but given it should be an important day in a child’s life, they should have remembered.
“We know it's his birthday dear.” The woman comes over to give Jason a hug as well, but this one is less painful. And she's tall too, Jason is not used to feeling this short anymore.
“Mom, Dad, this is Jason. Danny’s soulmate.” The both of them just blink for a second. Jason, this is Drs. Jack and Maddie Fenton, Danny’s parents.”
“Nice to meet you both.” Jason gets out.
“Well, this is wonderful!” Dr. Fenton-Maddie says. “Figures Danny would be the younger one. Are you going to be here for dinner?”
Jason glances over at Jazz.
“No, you told us that you would be busy, so we already made plans.” Jazz sidesteps the invitation. Jason couldn’t tell if that was true or a lie to get him out of the situation. Would they tell their son that they were too busy to have dinner with him on his birthday? He wants to think the answer is no. “Shame Danny will be missing out, but we’ll save his presents for him.”
“Alright, well you kids have fun then!” Maddie and Jack left as quickly as they came, rambling about something that Jason could not understand.
“They didn’t want to know where Danny is? Who he’s with? Where we’re going? Anything?” Jason turned to Jazz who had a pinched look on her face.
“Neither of us get up to much trouble, they’ve trusted us for a while now.” 
“Trust him to be magically transported who-knows-where?” Jason is almost stupefied by the utter lack of regard for Danny’s well-being. He is insulted on his soulmate’s behalf. “He could be in another country for all they know! They didn’t even ask!”
Jazz nods. “Best not to think about it. Everything is turning out alright anyways. Now come on, let’s get dinner.”
Jason is seething, but doesn’t think it will do much good to argue with her here so he decides to calm down. He startles a little when he realizes how easy it is to calm down in this body. Just decide to, and then move on. None of the lingering churning in his gut or fog in his mind. 
He frowns as he follows Jazz out the door, hoping that Danny’s not having too hard a time in his body.
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yxngbxkkie · 3 months
Text
freak accident (b.c)
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welcome to the third installment of mechanic!chris 🫢 i had thought of this idea the other day as a way to make it angsty but it's still pretty fucking cute 🤭 i do hope you guys enjoy it! ✨️mechanic chan for life✨️
feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰
You're out shopping for dinner tonight when your phone starts to ring. You furrow your brows, wondering who it could be since Chris is working and Hyunjin's at an art exhibit.
An unknown number is printed on your screen, and you reluctantly answer it. “Hello?” You start walking through the aisles again, waiting for whomever is on the line.
“Hi, this is Dr. Brown at SNUH. Am I speaking to Y/N?” You stop in your tracks at the question, feeling your heart begin to race.
“Yeah, yeah, this is Y/N,” you say to him, moving to a more secluded area in the store.
You can hear the background noise of nurses trying to speak to him, only to be hushed. “I'm calling in regards to Chris. There's been a slight accident at his auto shop and was rushed over here,” he explains the situation.
“Is… is he okay?” You ask, your breathing picking up.
“He's stable. I can give you more information on what happened when you get here,” the doctor states.
You nod your head, abandoning your cart as you rush towards the main doors. “Okay, I'll be there as fast I can,” you mutter before he hangs up.
As you're almost running to your car, you take deep breaths to stop you from having a form of attack. Tears pool in your eyes, every scenario of what could have happened runs through your mind.
The drive to the hospital doesn't take very long, thankful that traffic is on your side today. You quickly lock your vehicle and rush inside, stopping in front of the admitting desk.
“Hi,” you're out of breath, feeling the palms of your hands get sweaty. “I'm here to see Christopher Bang.”
The woman behind the desk nods and types in the patient's name. You tap your fingers against the desk, waiting for her to give you a room number.
“He's in room 203,” she tells you, making quick eye contact.
“Okay, thank you,” you mumble before walking over to the elevators. You take it up to the second floor, finding a sign to where 203 would be as soon as you step off.
You see a doctor and a nurse standing outside one of the rooms, finding out that it's Chris’ room. You walk closer to the pair, capturing the attention of the nuse.
She nudges the doctor, motioning her head in your direction. You clasp your fingers together as you make eye contact with Dr. Brown. “Y/N, yes?” He asks, holding a hand out for you to shake.
“Yes, hi,” you greet him with a bow, shaking the older man's hand. Your gaze flickers toward the small window in the door, seeing Chris lying on the hospital bed. “What happened?”
The doctor releases a deep breath. “He was working on a vehicle when it fell from the lift,” he starts, earning a gasp from you. “Thankfully, he wasn't completely under it and that he's quick on his feet. The situation could've been worse. He broke his left leg in two places.”
“Oh my god,” you mutter while stepping up to the door.
Dr. Brown gently rests one of his hands on your shoulders, reassuring you. “He'll be okay. The surgery went well. He had a couple of plates and screws put in. It'll somewhat be a long road to recovery,” he mentions.
“Is there anything he'll need to do?” You ask, tucking some hair behind your ears.
“There will be some follow-up appointments with orthopedics. But, that won't be for a few weeks. I'll have our nurse write down instructions you'll need for the healing process.”
You nod your head before opening the door. Both the doctor and nurse decide to let you have a moment with Chris alone. You gently shut the door behind you and walk over to the chair next to his bed.
Your eyes look at the cast on his leg, seeing that it's almost up to his knee. A frown, etches itself on your lips as you place your hand on his. You let out a couple of deep breaths, squeezing his hand in yours.
“I'm glad that it's only a broken leg,” you say out loud, not talking to anyone. You bring his hand closer to you, kissing the back of it softly.
Chris’ upper body stirs, making your movements halt. You watch his eyes slowly flutter open, squinting at the bright lights. He releases a tired groan, tilting his head towards you.
“Y/N?” He calls out your name, making your heart flutter.
You scoot closer to the bed and squeeze his hand. “I'm here,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear.
He smiles at you while lacing your fingers together. “I'm so happy to see you,” Chris mutters, turning his head again before closing his eyes.
“I'm happy to see you too, baby. I'm glad you're okay,” you mention, standing up from your chair.
You keep your hands intertwined and bring your free hand to his forehead. You brush the hair out of his face, listening to him hum continuously.
“I don't know what happened,” he mentions, smiling at the touch of your fingers. “It all happened so fast.”
“It's okay. The only thing that matters is that you're alive,” you state before leaning down to kiss his forehead.
A knock on the door captures both of your attention. The nurse from before walks in with a sheet of paper. “This is everything he'll need to do during recovery and the appointments he'll have,” she says to you while handing you the paper.
You grab a hold of it, your thumb stroking the back of his hand as you read through it. “Okay, thank you,” you smile at her, setting the paper on the table beside you. “When is he being discharged?”
“He's all set now. There's a wheelchair and a pair of crutches right outside the door,” she informs you before leaving.
“Chris, baby,” you softly call out his name, watching him open his eyes again. “Do you want to stay at my place during recovery?”
He tilts his head towards you and shakes his head. “You live on the fourth floor,” he mumbles, causing you to chuckle. “I live on the first floor. You can stay at my place. I also have a spare bedroom you can use.”
You laugh some more, combing your fingers through his hair. “What? You don't want to sleep in the same bed as me?” You joke with him, helping him sit up.
“I do, I swear,” Chris groans, leaning into your body. “I didn't know if you wanted to.”
A hum leaves your lips. “Such a sweet man,” you sigh before pulling away slightly. You stroke his cheek, watching him blink. “Are you going to be okay? I gotta grab the wheelchair.”
He nods his head, pursing his lips. You know what he's asking for, and you smile at him before planting a kiss on his plump lips.
“I'll be quick,” you mumble against his lips, placing one more kiss on his forehead.
~
You slowly walk behind Chris, eyeing him as he crutches into the kitchen of his apartment. It's been a few days since he's been discharged from the hospital, and he seems to be taking it really well.
He slumps into the chair, releasing a hefty sigh. “This is exhausting,” Chris laughs, lifting his head to look at you.
“You're doing well, though,” you grin, tapping his chin.
“Thank you for staying with me,” he mentions, grabbing your hand. “I couldn't ask for a better partner.”
Your cheeks blush, and you shrug your shoulders. “Of course, baby. I… I love you,” you tell him for the first time.
It's been a couple of months since the two of you started dating. He's not like any other guy you've been with. He's such a sweetheart, and he treats you like an absolute queen. It didn't take long for you to figure out that you loved him.
Chris stares up at you, his lips parted at the sudden phrase. “You love me?” He whispers, squeezing your hand. You giggle, nodding your head in answer. “Even like this?”
“Chris, baby, yes,” you laugh.
“I love you. I love you so much,” he says while resting his head against your stomach.
You wrap your arms around him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Now, what do you want to eat?” You ask him, opening his fridge to take a look inside.
“You wanna just order something? I haven't had the chance to go shopping,” he mentions with a pout.
“Sure, baby. Maybe later I can quickly go get some groceries,” you mention, having him move into the living room.
Chris walks into the living room before lowering himself onto the couch. You grab the pillow beside him and tuck it under his leg, keeping it elevated.
“If you do, I'll give you my card,” he says as you sit down next to him.
He places his hand on your thigh, stroking the inside of it. “I can pay for it, it's okay,” you reassure him, linking your arm with his.
He groans, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Baby, it's my place. Let me pay for my groceries,” he whines.
“You can get them next time,” you wink at him, patting his good leg.
“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees, squeezing your thigh.
You cuddle into his side after grabbing the remote. He combs his fingers through your hair as you find a movie to watch.
Chris looks at his food delivery app, trying to decide what he wants for lunch. “Do you want to get a variety of things?” He asks you, showing you his phone screen.
You quickly glance at the screen and nod your head. “Yeah, that's fine. It is pretty late, and we haven't eaten anything yet,” you tell him, moving your gaze from his phone to his face.
He smiles at you fondly, moving some strands of hair out of your eyes. “Man, I really love you,” Chris sighs, shaking his head. You giggle at his reaction. “I know it's only been a couple of months, but after this is over… I wouldn't mind you staying here.”
Your heart skips a beat, sitting up slightly. “Are you saying you want me to live here?” You ask him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.
“I've enjoyed the past two days even though my leg hurts,” he chuckles.
We'll see when you're all better,” you giggle, patting his chest. “You might get sick of me.”
Chris scoffs and playfully rolls his eyes. He hooks a finger beneath your jaw, turning your head before kissing you. “I'll never get sick of you, baby,” he mumbles against your lips, planting soft pecks after.
You kiss him once more before grinning. “We'll see, lover boy.”
~
tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n @meloncremesoda
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runningfrom2am · 5 months
Text
leveling the playing field
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summary: you didn't meet the requirements for the plinth prize, only to find out that you're not just missing out on that- you're missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime. your friend wants to help, because maybe you can help each other.
pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader
wc: 2.5k
tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows. anyway no warnings for you guys today besides maybe this is boring lol
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a/n: young coryo has me in a death grip rn guys this could be a problem-
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Fists clenched at your sides, you storm up to the front of the hall, staring intently at the Dean. You knew your odds were better pleading with Dr. Gaul, but that was a task far from your mind. "Miss Y/L/N, I don't have time for your petty complaints at the moment." He dismisses you before you even reach an appropriate distance to start your discussion.
"I was waiting for this." Festus chuckles, commenting on how none of the chosen mentors had a chance to process anything or even speak before you were stomping down the centre aisle, between all their seats, and up towards the podium where Dean Highbottom now stood.
Coriolanus found his gaze following you, despite his better judgment telling him to focus on the subject- scratch that, problem, at hand: his assignment of the mentorship of Lucy Gray Baird. She was fiery, that's for sure, and upon first impressions, she reminded him of you.
"You think I couldn't handle it, is that it?" You almost shout, discarding all formality in favour of getting answers. 
"You knew the qualifications, Miss Y/L/N." The Dean sighs.
"I got one B over a year ago! God, hold a grudge much? You're miserable!" People are staring now, noticeably, but you don't care. You're used to getting what you want, and the one time you don't, it comes back to bite you in the ass over a year later.
"Then you should have done better. Drop this or I'll demerit you." He states in response, clearly hardly caring. You huff, face red as you storm off again, making a point of slamming the door open so hard it hits the wall with a bang.
Coriolanus never understood fully why the Dean let you parade around with this attitude directed at him, but never so much as lifted a finger to punish you. If he had made a scene like that, he would have been expelled on the spot. "I should go after her." He turns to look at Sejanus as he's getting up, quickly gathering himself to follow after you. He had little interest in staying anyway.
"I'll go." Coriolanus stands, placing his hand on Sejanus' chest to stop him. "You stay. I'll sort her out."
"Coriolanus Snow, off to sedate his girlfriend again." Arachne teases as he walks off, leaving Sejanus to defend his name in his stead. He'd much prefer talking you down to uselessly explaining to the other kids in your class that the two of you were nothing more than friends. It was a wasteful endeavour. You were just the only one who's presence he could stand in a social capacity.
You made it outside, pacing the large front steps of the academy, fighting the urge to rip off your skirt and burn it right there. Along with the rest of the building.
"Y/N." You pause when you hear the door close behind someone, looking up to see your friend.
"Coryo." You reply, continuing with your fruitless crusade at this point.
"What happened to not caring about the prize?" He asks, stepping down so he's level with you on the staircase, getting in your path so you can no longer pace.
"I don't care about the prize." You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's not about that."
"I doubt that." Coriolanus raises an eyebrow at you. You had told him at length you didn't care about the prize when you found out you weren't even in the running, because your parents could pay your tuition anyway. He envied your privilege, but he had never envied you.
"No, it's not." You insist. "I got one less than stellar grade one time and now I'm missing out on this opportunity- effectively throwing away any shot I have at Gamemaker."
"That's dramatic." Your friend replies. "I think you're better off than me."
You scoff. "Oh, boo hoo, Coriolanus Snow. I'd take Lucy Gray in a second."
"Just because she can cause a scene doesn't mean she'll last a minute in the games." He replies.
"Duh, it's not about winning. It's about the experience, it's about-"
"Being on TV?" He asks, and despite his serious expression you know it's a joke.
"Even you know I'm not that shallow. I'm not Arachne." You can't help but smile. He does too, for just a second. "And frankly, I'm offended at the insinuation."
"Then enlighten me, Y/N Y/L/N." Coriolanus prompts, and suddenly your demeanor changes in a way he would deem hardly noticeable if he hadn't known you for years.
You sigh, dropping your tense shoulders. "My father will be up in arms when he finds out." You answer, voice in a whisper despite being alone out here. "I'm an embarrassment to my family name."
"That's impossible." He shakes his head quickly. "You're their pride and joy. A gem of the Capitol."
"Ah, but for how long?" You reply, poking his chest. "Until the oldest Y/L/N child doesn't get a mentorship? Until my brother does in three years and I am an irrelevant face in the University halls and he is winning the Plinth prize?" The small smile on your face fades as you look down, thinking over the consequences for the first time.
"Perhaps, but one day that will come back to bite anyone who doubted you when you're the new head Gamemaker. I'll be sure of it." He nods, and your smile returns. 
"Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you." You giggle, raising your hand in a salute. You had heard his cousin say that to him once, two or three years ago by now, and you were not prepared to let it go. You can tell it was something he believed, despite the misshapen buttons on his dress shirt and the weight he'd steadily lost over all the years you'd known him. Who were you to deny him his ambitions? Everyone else was fooled, so you would act as though you were as well. The same way he had habitually ignored the bruises on your arms and under your makeup the day after you brought home that B grade last year.
He just nods in response, jokingly tugging at his vest in pride. 
"I hate to tell you that I will have to decline your generous offer." You say, and he looks confused. "I don't need your charity. I'll make it so you'd be a fool not to hire me, Mister President."
You sit down on the stairs, looking out at the city. He joins you a moment later, dusting off the ground beneath him before letting his clothes touch the surface.
"So, how are you feeling?" You ask, sick now of talking about yourself.
"Honestly, not great." Coriolanus answers. "She'll be first down, and I'll be out. We're about at odds with each other, I have no shot at the prize now."
"I don't know, Coryo." You smile a little, bumping his shoulder with your own as you try to reassure him. "Lucy Gray has a or two fight in her. I can tell."
"She reminds me of you, a little bit." 
"Is that a bad thing?" You chuckle.
"No." He shakes his head. "You never back down from a fight. Even if you should."
You laugh, turning a little to hide the burning in your cheeks. "I suppose I could see the resemblance. I'm no stranger to telling someone to kiss my ass."
"That's true." He nods, smiling but not quite laughing. You're not sure you could remember seeing him laugh, not since Felix fell down the stairs in the lecture hall a few years ago and screamed like a girl. "Maybe you could help me."
"Help you? How?" You ask, brow furrowed as you look over at him. Whatever it is you'll agree. He knows too much about you for you to deny him anyway, and it's not like you really had anything to lose. If you couldn't have the Plinth prize, you'd want it to go to Coriolanus.
"With Lucy Gray. I don't even know where to start, what to think, what to do." He explains.
"Well..." You think about it for a second. "If you want her to listen to you in any capacity, she'll have to trust you. So be nice. And maybe convince her to sing again. People were talking, that's what you want. It's the best you can do."
He nods, sitting up straighter. "Thank you, Y/N. I have to go." Before you can respond, he's gone back into the building behind you. You sigh, calmer now, despite dreading the prospective task of having to go home and face your father.
"Mister Snow, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Dr. Gaul asks, readjusting her gloves without looking up at the boy as she throws what he assumes to be some kind of food into a blacked-out tank in front of him.
"I'd like Y/N Y/L/N to be my partner in the mentorship," Coriolanus states, making her pause.
"Why?" She asks simply, resuming her task.
"I believe she would be an asset for Lucy Gray."
"They do have a similar... spark. Don't they?" Dr. Gaul nods a little bit to herself. "But what makes you think that this wouldn't be an unfair advantage?"
"It wouldn't be an advantage. More like an experiment." He answers, effectively piquing the doctor's interest. "We can observe the benefits and faults of two mentors versus one, moving into the next games, and the effect of choosing based on compatibility, rather than random, careless selection."
Dr. Gaul hums, wiping off her leather gloves with a cloth as she thinks it over. "And this would have nothing to do with your relationship and sympathies towards Miss Y/L/N, correct?"
"No." He shakes his head. "Miss Y/L/N certainly doesn't get any sympathy from me." It's not a lie, at least he doesn't perceive it to be. You would be an asset to his cause, to his deliverance of the prize, and likely the most pleasant person to work with, ironically.
"I will think about it." Dr. Gaul states. "But the prize will not be awarded to her in any capacity, you must understand."
Maybe he does feel bad for you. He's entitled to that prize, no doubt, but it's hard to picture a world where you wouldn't be the runner-up; even if that is his reality. "I understand." He nods, before turning to leave.
"Oh, and Mister Snow." Dr. Gaul draws his attention once more, causing him to stop and look back at her. "Don't let her charm you."
"Y/N!" You look up from your textbook toward the door, knowing your brother will be opening it any second after he calls you. Surely enough, he does. "Coriolanus Snow is here. He wants to speak with you."
"Can you show him up to the library?" You ask, quickly wiping your reddened eyes.
"He's there with dad already." Your brother tells you and you sniff, nodding a little bit. "Thank you. Tell them I'll be right there."
You quickly throw on a sweater, double-checking in the mirror that you don't look like you were just crying before leaving. Besides a little bit of redness around your eyes and blotchiness on your chest covered by the sweater, you should be okay.
"Well, thank you for extending your influence on my daughter's behalf. I owe you a great deal." You hear your dad speaking from down the hall as you get closer. "Though, I wouldn't fault you if you changed your mind. I understand she will be a burden on you."
"No, sir. It would be an honour to work with her." You hear Coryo say as you step into the door frame. 
You knock gently on the open door, alerting them both of your presence. "Y/N." Your father says, nodding toward your friend. "Coriolanus has pulled some strings to try and help you maintain what's left of your reputation."
You sniff and nod, looking over at Coryo as he stands across from your dad in your library, posture perfect like a soldier standing at attention. His professionalism will always impress you, it never falters in the presence of others. "Thank you." You make an effort to smile at him, which he politely and uncomfortably returns. "Could you give us a moment?" You request, returning your attention to your dad.
He nods and shakes Coryo's hand before bumping into you as he exits the room, pausing before leaning down to whisper to you.
Coriolanus watches, your eyes widening for just a moment while your dad speaks to you and then you nod, thanking him quietly before he leaves. You stand there awkwardly staring at each other for a second while you listen to his footsteps descend the stairs, and then hear the door to his study close. As soon as it does, you're quickly walking up to your friend and throwing your arms around his waist, your head leaning into his chest.
He freezes for a second before hugging you back. "Thank you, Coryo." You whisper. "I won't let you down."
"Are you okay?" He asks, resisting the urge to just rest his chin on the top of your head and pull you closer. It's been ages since he's been hugged like this, and though it's meant more as a comfort to you, it's consolatory to him as well.
You nod, snapping out of it and quickly pulling away, taking a respectful step back. "Yeah, yes. Sorry." You clear your throat, quickly readjusting your sweater.
"Don't be." He shakes his head quickly, brows still furrowed as he looks you over. He doesn't know what you came home to, but he has a strong theory as to what the cause of your tear-stained cheeks could be, and it certainly wasn't an empty fridge like his. 
You stare at each other for another moment before you look away. "Uh, so, you spoke to the Dean?"
"No, he despises me." He answers. "Dr. Gaul was more sympathetic to the cause."
"Dr. Gaul and 'sympathetic' have never been used in the same sentence before." You tease.
"Well, she likes us for some reason."
"Thank god." You chuckle, slightly shaking your head.
"But... seriously, are you okay?" He asks again, this time blatantly looking you over. While embarrassing, it does feel nice to see that someone cares, that someone noticed. The remnants of pity behind his eyes makes you almost ill.
"Fine." You nod in confirmation. "Would you like something to eat?" You offer, leveling the playing field.
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taglist: @keziahcore, @kitscutie
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kokorose · 4 months
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The best friend-DR3
Daniel Ricciardo x Stroll!reader
Faceclaim: Zoey Duetch
Reader is Chloe’s twin (28 years old)
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YnStroll posted
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YnStroll: new era: incoming 🍸🍸
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Ninadobrev: love you darling
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Ynbffusername: yessss b*tch!!
LanceStroll: 😈😈
Username: mother
Username: Jacob better watch out!!
Username: yesss queen!👸🏽
Username: it’s been a month!!!
YnStroll posted to her story
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Seen by LanceStroll, ChloeJames, ninadobrev, Ybffusername, DanielRicciardo and 78,892 others
YnStroll: came knocking at my door at 12:30 in the morning to make me food.
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DanielRicciardo: 😁 your welcome
Reply: 😊😊
LancesStroll: ummmm… is that who I think it is??
LanceStroll: hello????
LanceStroll: Yn!! Answer you phone???
Ynbffusername: girllllll
Username: is that Daniel?!?
DanielRicciardo posted
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DanielRicciardo: late night pasta and movies with a view.
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Username: excuse me Daniel Joseph Ricciardo who’s
ScottyJames: 👀👀 which one’s the view??
DanielRicciardo: 😁
LandoNorris: umm…
MaxVerstappen1: does her brother know:
Username: Max, are you telling me that that is who I think it is?!?
Username: are you thinking it’s a certain Aston Martin drivers sister becuase if so, same!
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YnStroll and DanielRicciardo added to their stories
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DanielRicciardo: second best view
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YnStroll: what’s the first??
DanielRicciardo: you without the shirt 😁
ScottyJames: mate…
MaxVerstappen1: did she like the place Kelly recommended?
DanielRicciardo: yeah man, she loved it. Tell Kelly thanks.
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YnStroll: mornin’
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DanielRicciardo: mornin’ 😁
LanceStroll: I guess if he makes you happy.
Ynbffusername: get it babes!!!
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YnStroll posted:
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YnStroll: Cowboy, I love you to the moon and stars! You’ve changed by life in the short time we’ve been together. You’ve taught me things about myself that I didn’t know before. I’ve never laughed as much in my life as I have in the last couple months. I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you and never been loved as much as you love me.
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DanielRicciardo: I love you too baby! ❤️
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DanielRicciardo posted
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DanielRicciardo: Baby, I’ve never been so in love with someone as I am with you! You’re the light in my life. You are my muse! I never belived that love could change your life but you’ve proven me wrong. You’ve changed my life in ways I’ve never thought could be possible. I love you darling!
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YnStroll: I love you too, now stop making me cry!
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LanceStroll: welcome to the family man.
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venomous-qwille · 7 months
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Ghost in the Machine
This is the master post for Ghost in the Machine links, character refs and FAQs.
I will try my best to keep this post as up to date as possible.
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What is Ghost in The Machine?
GITM is a DCA AU and a fic set in the retrofuture (2055ish) long after Fazco has shut down. An eccentric collector has been acquiring versions of the Daycare Attendant animatronic from closed locations around the world. The story involves a reader character who has been brought into repair the original post-Ruin DCA from the games, and hijinks ensue. There are also ghosts.
Where can I read the fic?
GITM is currently being posted on Ao3, and is updated every three weeks on Saturdays. The fic is being beta'd by the tremendously talented @bubbiethesaur. You can read GITM here!
There is also a podfic, which you can find here:
Updates to the podfic will be sporadic, so please be patient &lt;3
Where can I see the art?
On this blog I use the #gitm au and #ghost in the machine au tags for GITM related content. If you are looking for art of a specific character, they also have their own tags: #misuta moon #nova #soleil #clip.exe #sunspot mk1 #fool eclipse #ruin eclipse #sombra #sunflower #mr sandman
FAQ~
Why haven't you answered my GITM ask?
One of three reasons: 1) your ask was too spoilery* 2) I'm waiting to answer it with art 3) ADHD
*spoilery includes but is not limited to: any questions about dual-AI or XYZ character's sun/moon variant; questions about character backstories and lore; questions about characters that have not featured in the fic yet (e.g Nova, Sanii, Harvest, Sunflower, Sandman etc); asks speculating about potential future scenarios (don't get me wrong, I love these asks, but I can't answer them!)
Where are all the Moons?
Read and find out. Seriously. There are at least 5 Moons who are core to the plot but I'm not going to talk about them, no matter how nicely you ask!
Does XYZ character have a Sun/Moon counterpart?
Some of them do, some of them don't. The dual-AI stuff is majorly plot related. If I'm not talking about someone's Sun/Moon counterpart, rest assured you will find out eventually. I won't be spoiling any of it on tumblr though :)
Can I create fanart of GITM?
Yes yes yes please do and please tag me when you post it so I can see it/reblog! If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.
Can I create fanfic of GITM?
Super flattered about this. I have a longform answer to this question which you can read here. But tl;dr yes you can, please tag/credit me, do not spoil/try to write the lore, and please do not write GITM au (e.g mafia, mer, medieval). I have my own plans for this stuff and I would prefer to release the designs/stories in my own time. If you are unsure if something is ok, please ask.
Do you have character refs I can use?
There is a collection of art 'refs' for each character on the Misutamojis discord. Latest link here.
There are no proper call-out sheets/refs currently, but I have a huge body of art for the characters on this blog which should give you more than enough info for most of them. I will get around to creating proper refs eventually, in which case I will link them here.
Where can I find the playlist?
I update the spotify playlist fairly regularly, if you have any music recs you can send them over in an ask! You can listen to the playlist here!
I've heard there are secret GITM drabbles, where can I find them?
I used to post frequent drabbles from future chapters in the DCA Palooza discord, I have recently deleted the majority of them as people were going back and binging them which hadn't been the intended reading experience. Anywho, this question probably refers more to the spicy drabbles (which people have very kindly made a lot of delicious art for). These are still around! You just need to access the spicy channel and do some digging.
Is there a GITM discord?
Nope! There is a server for GITM emotes and a busy thread in the DCA Palooza, but currently I don't have any plans to make a GITM-centric discord community. If that does happen in the future it's likely I will simply convert the emotes server (Misutamojis).
It finally happened, I converted Misutamojis. You can join the GITM discord here.
Can I smooch the robots?
Yes.
All of them?
All of them.
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atyourmerci · 20 hours
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I don’t care that you’re a stoner
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Ceo!abby
Dr. A.A
CW: smut, MDNI, dom!abby, mean!abby, sub!reader, light bondage (belt), tribbing brrr, talks of strap usage, tribbing breeding kink brrr, degradation, fingering, cum play
A/N: this is technically a drabble but I gave it a title bc that’s what Chappell deserves
Why Dr. Anderson decided to come to you, your pathetic excuse of an ‘office’ instead of your usual frequent visits to hers, was beyond you. Following her around like a dog to her every beck and call. Having to call her doctor since she insisted on getting her doctorate in finance…fucking prick.
Even your credentials, your place in the hierarchy of the company didn’t exclude you from being her little bitch. She seldom gave you the decency of just looking at you when you did her dirty work. Filing her papers, calling her clients, getting her coffee, black of course, like she would drink anything with an ounce of happiness.
She never thanked you. She made it clear where you stood to her, below her. A bleeding, breathing, able-minded body. It could be you, or the next, as long as it was done correctly.
So nice of her as she glares at you from the door of your office that was always open. “What are your plans for tonight?” She says driving her veiny wrists into her slack pockets, her normal intimidating eyes driving into your soul.
“I should be done that paperwork by six, is there something else I need to get to you?”
“After that,” she remarks sternly, as if you should’ve know that, as if that was something she’d ever asked before.
“Uhh go home?” You answer dumbly, utterly confused by her insistence on your personal endeavors.
“Come out with us tonight. We go to max’s down the road,” it was a question with no opportunity for refusal. You didn’t say no to Dr.Anderson.
“Oh I don’t-“ you shake your head before she cuts you off.
“I know I can smell you. Seven. Tonight.”
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Sprawled out, aggressively stripped of your outing dress, on her luxurious thousand thread cotton sheets. Dr. Anderson’s Louis Vuitton belt tied around your wrist, her attempt to regain dominance.
Even as she’s panting, muffled curses coming out as pleas as she grinds her soaking cunt against your own. Her clit is so swollen now, after completely abusing your hole. Her pent up arousal seeping into the sticky mess she created with her relentless thrusts earlier.
“Couldn’t fucking stop thinking ‘bout this,” she pants out, rutting into you like a dog in heat, her sticky white cum ruining her precious expensive sheets.
You can’t seem to find words to remark her pathetic admission, so completely fucked out from your previous orgasm.
Kneading your breast in her hand she brings her teeth to your neck, biting down on the thin flesh, sure to leave marks for everyone to see. But that wasn’t enough for her.
“Gonna cum in this needy pussy, let everyone know how much of a whore you are.”
A guttural moan leaves your throat, the thought of her marking you, claiming you as hers.
“Hmm the little slut likes that? Getting used as my fucking cumdump?”
The only thing you can seem to mutter out is a sad ‘mhmm’ as your eyes roll to the back of your head.
A ‘fucking slut’ is heard in the background as you feel her reposition herself, turning herself sideways inbetween your legs, throwing your leg over her shoulder. She reconnects your swollen clits, with the addition of sliding two of her thick fingers back into you. Slipping in with ease, coating her fingers with the mix of pearl slick.
“FUCK,” you come back to your senses at the new sensation, needing to hold onto anything but your hands are still bound by her belt.
“Still so fucking tight, need to stretch her out so it’ll only feel good when I do it.” Her pace beginning to quicken, her hips bucking into your thigh. Her teeth biting into the flesh of your thigh, holding back whimpers of your name.
“B-better take all my cum. Every last drop slut,” she begins losing herself, her thrusts only getting sloppier. Gripping into the flesh of your thighs to stabilize herself, trying to get you off again before herself.
“I-I promise doctor.”
Was what set her off, dropping her head back as her mouth gapes. “fuckfuckholyfuck,” her legs begin to shake, hot white cream dripping out of her pulsing hole, dripping down your clit and finding its home in your own twitching abandoned hole.
Huffing out as she regains her stability, realizing she’s losing time, her cum dripping down to her sheets and spreading. Not where she needed it.
She takes her fingers back to your cunt, scooping up what’s left, pushing it deep inside of you and keeping them as far as she can get.
“This is what you wanted huh? Nasty fucking mess stuffed with my cum,” she says with a grin of the devil herself. So pleased seeing you so dumb for her, another level of submission she could coax you into.
You give a pathetic nod, feeling her cum painting your walls as she’s deep in your cervix. She begins giving tantalizing licks to your clit as she watches your chest rise and fall.
“Abby please-“
Before you could finish you feel a rough grab on your belt adorned wrists, pulling you up to face her.
“Get the rest you missed.” She says pulling you down into the sheets, your mouth opening instinctively. Licking the cum soaked cotton sheets as she watches you from below her.
Once she’s satisfied she grips your jaw in her hand, guiding your gaze to her soaking cunt, still dripping with the mix of both of your orgasms-
“Every. Last. Drop.”
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