But of course! It'll be my pleasure ^^ The working title is We, the descendants, predatory (with)in ourselves and I haven't written all that much for it (yet), but I think I found an okay bit to share 👀 (And for anyone curious, here's the first part -- Woken up, wild beast)
Vegas never admitted anything, and Macau was never brave enough to touch it, but he’s been there, has seen Vegas coming back some nights, dejected and hurting and pouring out distressed hormones in groves, drowning the hurt and betrayal in torture or training or getting lost in his wild shape on the next day. The chilling emptiness of his dark eyes receded only hours later, after Macau got Vegas to cook for him, and watch a movie with him, and scented him so much Vegas’ own scent almost got lost under Macau’s soothing omega pheromones. And even then, sometimes it took their father’s abusive asshole face to show up for Vegas to snap out of it, the weight of his responsibility the only thing heavy enough to bring Vegas back to the present. Some of it ended a few years back, when whispers of Vegas getting rid of significant figures in the underworld reached Macau’s eavesdropping ears, but if it’s been years already, so then why…
The fear had shot through Macau hot and fierce then, that their father did something again, something way worse than he’d usually do these days, that maybe— maybe he— maybe he forced Vegas to— again—
But on the other side of the door, Vegas hurt, and Macau’s panic only caused his pain to worsen, a spike of cutting agony that almost made Macau gasp, frozen under Nop’s and Charlie’s watchful eyes. And still, Vegas was trying to hold it back, to soothe Macau, to calm him down when Vegas himself was twisting his own feelings up into knots to not let them pour through and— And Macau had to admit he was only making it worse. That as long as he was there, Vegas would keep on pushing his own needs aside. Would force all his emotions down and away and suffer even more while putting Macau’s feelings above his own, and that— that—
It hurt. It hurt and ached and made Macau want to burst into tears – scream at the cruelty and unfairness of the world, molding them into the broken shells they’ve become, and at what cost? It killed him, having to turn away from his brother, let their bond close down, reduce it to just a sliver of a thread, barely an echo of what a familial bond like theirs should look like, but— but if that’s what his brother needed, then Macau was going to provide. For once in his life, he had the opportunity to let Vegas be a priority for himself, to let him have that [], and Macau would fucking take it. Even if it broke his heart in half.
Please ignore any mistakes above, this is a very unedited first draft version 😅 And if any of y'all read the first part, yes, this is a direct call back to Macau's appearance there, that's where this fic starts -- and eventually it's gonna cover the day after in Macau's POV ^^
