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eddiesxangel · 7 months ago

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Just Peachy | E.M

TJ’s 2K request celebration!

Anonymous asked: Hey i was wondering if i could request a friends to lovers eddie x reader, its romantic and the tension finally breaks, its their first time with each other and the reader absolutely blows his mind sucking and fucking him, shes the best hes ever had and he wasnt expecting it to be THAT good, hes just sprawled out flushed and sweaty like hes seen god 🤭🤭 Im just imagining him trying to get up to pee and his legs give out, he face plants in the hallway, his cheeks just out 🍑 and youre both giggling

wc: 2.9k

Cw: friends to lovers, your and Eddie’s first time together, smut, oral (f + m) , p in v, talks about cuming inside but Eddie is wearing a condom.

Concealing your emotions around Eddie had become increasingly taxing over the past couple of months. Although you've been friends for a little over a year, you couldn't help but notice that something had shifted in your interactions with him.

You felt giddy when you were together. Your face, cheeks, and ears would feel on fire whenever he complimented you. You also found yourself thinking about him first thing in the morning, and when your head hit the pillow, fantasies of you and he would play in your mind until you fell asleep.

The flirting between the two of you was so unbelievably blatant, and any time you innocently did it in front of your friends, they would make gagging noises. You never thought much of it because that’s just how you and Eddie were, that’s how you’ve always been, it was never serious for you, until it was.

It was one particular comment he had made that made it all switch for you. It was late at night, and you and he had been smoking together at his place. He’d told you that “you are the only person in the whole world who makes him feel whole.” You could have kissed him right then and there, and that thought scared you.

Ever since that night, Eddie has always been at the forefront of your mind, especially on the night of that party, when he expressed his feelings for you during a game of truth or dare.

In all honesty, Eddie had been set up by Dustin and Steve. They were tired of hearing him go on and on about you for a year and a half, so they fed Eddie a bunch of alcohol and insisted on playing a game of truth or dare.

Finally, when it was time, Steve asked Eddie, “Who do you like?” He drunkenly but confidently said your name. You hadn’t believed him because he was so drunk, but Nancy reminded you, “Drunken thoughts are sober words.”

When you were both sober the next morning, you marched your way to the trailer to set the record straight. You needed to know if what Eddie said had any slice of truth to it. At first, he refused to even look at you, embarrassed by his actions, but when you confronted him about it, he could only nod his head ‘yes.’

Your stomach erupted with butterflies as he confessed he’d always liked you like that. Like more than a friend. He didn’t want to lose you because you’re one of the most important people in his life.

You didn’t let him finish speaking because your lips were on his. This kiss was everything that you had wanted it to be. It’s the type of kiss you’ve only been dreaming about every night before going to bed.

After one of the best makeout sessions of your life, Eddie insisted he take you out on a proper date before things moved forward because “you deserve the world.” His words, not yours.

Dating Eddie was fun and easy. You were such good friends before, so you were already comfortable with one another, but now you got to steal kisses and hold each other's hands without worry. The only problem was that you’ve been on five dates with Eddie, and neither of you has yet to make a move past steamy makeouts.

It was weird, in a way. He was your friend, and you didn’t want to seem too pushy, and neither did he. You both were too chicken to let one another’s hands roam too far without worrying about the other's reaction.

Eddie didn’t even know if you would want to have sex with him. You said you liked one another more than a friend, but you were you. You are everything to Eddie, and if he fucked this up by moving too quickly, he would never forgive himself. So, he played it safe.

Stolen kisses on cheeks, innocent hand holding—he wouldn’t initiate further than kissing until you wanted, but the problem was that you and he never talked about it, and he was not picking up on your signals.

It was coming to the end of your sixth date with Eddie, and you would be damned if you let the night end with you in your separate beds.

Eddie walked you to your door and went for a kiss goodnight, but you stopped him, “I want you to come inside.” You smiled sheepishly, and Eddie, nothing but your local follower, humbly listened to your request.

“Can I get you a drink? You ask as you guide him to your living room couch.

“Sure, I’ll take whatever you’re having.” Eddie rubs his sweaty hands over his jeans.

You come back a few moments later with two beer bottles in hand.

“Thanks,” Eddie smiles, seemingly more comfortable.

“Eddie, can we talk about something?” You ask nervously as you sit down.

Shit, here it was. You want to go back to just friends.

“S-sure” Eddie swallows the lump in his throat, the confidence suddenly drained out of his body.

“Do you think I’m attractive?”

“What?” This is not where he thought the conversation was going.

“We’ve known each other for so long, and this is our sixth date, and we haven’t… you know…” You look down, embarrassed to say what is on your mind.

“Haven’t what, sweetheart.”

You take a deep sigh, building up your confidence.

“Sex.”

“Oh uh-I”

“It’s ok if you’re not attracted to me-“

“What! No! God no!”

“Then why haven’t you made a move?”

“I didn’t want to scare you away…”

“Scare me away?

“ I’m obsessed with you to the point it’s a bit embarrassing.”

“And I’m not obsessed with you?” You counter back.

“I didn’t think you’d be into me like that…”

“It’s all I think about.”

That was the confirmation that Eddie needed to hear.

“So do you uh,” he ears his throat, “want to umm.”

“Yes,” you nod your head enthusiastically.

Slowly, Eddie leans in to kiss you. It’s soft and gentle until you lean in and press into his lips more.

A low moan leaves Eddie’s throat, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss as his hands trail up your upper thigh to your waist, pulling your body closer and closer until you are straddled on top of him.

Finally, he was taking control like you had wanted for so long. You pulled away to catch your breath, pushing Eddie’s brown tendrils out of the way so you could latch your lips onto the side of his neck.

“Mmmm, baby,” he moaned.

Your heart skipped a beat with his words; that was the first time he’d called you that, and you yearned for more.

“God, I want you so bad.” his breath had become heavy as his chest pumped up and down.

“You have me, baby,” you bravely let slip the pet name.

“Fuck” he groaned as the blood rushed down to his stiffening cock.

“How do you want me?” Your confidence was growing with each passing touch.

“Fuuuuuck, you can’t just say shit like that to me, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” You pout playfully.

You could feel his cock against your cunt, and you rolled your hips to test out the waters.

“Oooh! You are a dirty girl.” Eddie grits through his teeth as he stills your hips by gripping onto your ass, and a wave of arousal floods your lace panties. The panties you’ve been saving for each passing date.

“Can I suck your cock?”

“Yes,” Eddie blurts out without a second passing thought.

You slide off the couch, and Eddie shifts forward for you before he undoes his pants while you place a pillow under your knees.

The butterflies in your stomach still haven’t settled as you wait impatiently to see what he looks like. From what you could feel in his lap, he wouldn’t disappoint you.

As Eddie shifts the fabric uncovering his cock, your mouth waters with anticipation. You’re mesmerized by the sight of it, it’s long and thick, and the tip is so pink it’s just begging to be sucked, kissed and licked.

Eddie watches as your face turns into a grin as you bite your lip. You’re entirely giddy as you lean forward to take his hard length in your hand.

A soft “fuck” leaves Eddie’s lips as the tips of your fingers brush the shaft and take it into your gentle fingertips.

“You’re so big,” you purr.

Eddie was about to respond but your mouth is enveloping his cock.

“Oh my god,” he sputters. He cannot believe that this is his life, that he is here with you at this very moment. He never thought his most intimate daydreams would one day come to fruition.

Eddie snapped out of his own head as you sunk down lower and lower until you reached the back of your throat. You tried to breathe through your nose, but it was too much, so you returned to catch your breath.

“Holy shit, baby!”

There he goes, throwing around that word again, which makes you melt for him. All you want is to please him, to make him feel good.

“You like that baby? You like sucking on my cock?”

Fuck, he has a dirty mouth.

A whiny “mmmmmhmmmmm” fills the room and only enhances Eddie’s pleasure.

You feel his hands grip your hair, pushing it out of the way for you. So ever the gentleman.

“Need to see you, pretty girl.” There was no way Eddie was missing the sight of you taking him in your mouth because a bit of hair was in the way.

Eddie was trying everything in his power to not buck up his hips into you and down your throat. You were making it so hard because you were so good at this. Too good…but Eddie couldn’t let his mind wander about how you are so good at head. No, he will allow himself to enjoy this moment. He’s waited 20 months for this moment.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he chanted as your mother slid up and showed the shaft, swirling your tongue on the tip each time before repeating it over and over and over again.

You can’t help but touch yourself as you’re also pleasuring your boyfriend. The way his words were affecting your body was too much to ignore any longer.

“Oh my god, you’re so hot; I need you; I need you now.” he watched as your fingers slipped between your skirt and your ruined panties, and he couldn’t take it anymore. God, he wanted to fuck you so badly.

“Mmmmmm, Eddie, please fuck me.” You remove your mouth and replace it with your hand as you jerk him off.

Your face is dripping with the mix of pre cum and saliva. Your eye makeup was a little smudged from the tears from when you gagged on his cock, but Eddie never thought you looked more beautiful.

“Come here.”

“You going to ride me baby? Show me how much you want me? Or are you going to let me fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Who needs legs anyway” you let out a shaky laugh.

Eddie’s face morphed into a mischievous grin as he threw you over his shoulder and brought you to the bedroom.

He flopped you on your back, and you landed with a giggle that quickly was cut off by a hot kiss.

Before you knew it, you were both finally naked, and Eddie was taking in every inch of you like he was committing your body to memory.

“Perfect,” Eddie whispered before leaning in to kiss you. “Perfect,” he moved down to kiss your neck. “Perfect.” He muttered into your breast, taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth and making you arch up into him. He repeated his actions until he got to your weeping pussy.

“Oh baby, look at you, you’ve been crying for me, haven’t you… You just want so much attention; that’s why you’re so wet for me. Don’t worry. I need you just as badly.” He stuck out his tongue and ran it up your slick slit making you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“There’s my girl.”

Another wave of arousal washes through you at the term of endearment.

“Holy shit,” you try and catch your breath, but his tongue keeps going.

Eddie fucks your pussy with his tongue so good you can’t believe this is real. He’s eating you like you’re his last meal, and he’s enjoying every last drop.

“Eddie, baby, oh god!” You’re cuming in his tongue before you even comprehend what’s happening to your body.

“Did you just!” He pops up in shock that he was able to make you cum in a few short minutes. In all honesty, he was kinda sad it didn’t last longer. He loved being between your legs. It was his new favourite spot.

A breathy “uh-huh” leaves your chest as you soak in the euphoria.

“Can we…. Do you want to?…. I can—”

“Fuck me. Fuck me now, please. I don’t want to walk tomorrow.” You begged in your fucked-out needy state.

“Keep talking like that baby.”

“I need you so bad; I’ve wanted you to fuck me for so long, please, Eddie.”

You were so long in your begging that by the time you had finished talking g Eddie already had on the condom and was aligning himself with your pussy.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and you answered by pulling him into another long, passionate kiss—one full of wanting and need, one that was much overdue.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Eddie mumbles before he slowly slips himself into you.

The stretch was so good; you had been more than prepared for his cock, so when he entered you, all you felt was pleasure.

“Oh god.” You clawed at his back, biting down on his shoulder, pussy clamping down on him.

“Fuck, your pussy is so tight.” Eddie was already having a hard time fighting off his orgasm as his hips slowly rocked back and forth into you.

“More.” You plead.

Eddie situated himself so he could fuck you like he meant it, to fuck you so good you’re seeing stars.

“Be careful what you wish for, baby.” You had no idea what was coming when it came to sex with Eddie.

He was an animal, a beast, a man untamed.

His hips start getting faster, and his movements are calculated and raw. Each undulation of his hips into you was so delicious you could no longer think. You’re crying out as his cock hits your sweet spot in each thrust. He works his cock into your pussy as it sucks him in each time, taking him in willingly and refusing to let go.

“That’s it, baby, taking my cock so good” he watches as his cock disappears inside of you, gripping onto your soft inner thighs to spread your legs as wide as they can go.

“Look at that baby,” his thumb brushes your swollen clit, “so pretty and puffy for me,” he praises, and your pussy clamps down on him once again.

“Oh, she likes it when I’m nice to her, huh?”

Fuck he needs to stop talking to your pussy, or else you can’t hold on much longer.

“I want to come!”

“Come on, my cock, baby, show me you’re mine.”

That did it for you. Your second orgasm takes over your mind, body and spirit. Your floating on a cloud as Eddie rolls his cock into it and runs your clit so good you’re seeing stars.

Eddie is out of breath, but he still continues chasing after his own orgasm.

“I want you to come,” you mindlessly say, not realizing you're talking.

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you full of my cum. Is that what you want?”

“Please! Give it to me, baby,” you pout, and the look on your face sends Eddie over the edge.

Jagged breaths fill the silent room as Eddie collapses on top of you before he rolls over to catch his breath.

“Wow.” Is all you say before giggling.

“Did I rock your world or what.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. It's too bad it took you this long to do it; we could have been doing this for weeks now.”

“Hey, come here,” he drags you into his arms, stealing another kiss.

“I’m going to get a towel.” Eddie sits up on the edge of the bed so he can take off the soiled condom and toss it in the trash.

Not realizing how shaky his legs are, they give out, and he falls forward.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” You start laughing.

“God damn, I fucked you good, didn’t I?” he laughs.

“And you said I was the one who couldn’t walk tomorrow.” You shriek in a fit of giggles as Eddie lay on the floor, ass up face down.

“You’re a goddamn succumbs, you know that? Sucked the life right out of me.” He laughs into the floor.

“Your ass is like a fuzzy peach, I want t to bite it.”

“Why don’t you come over?” he says, dragging you into his arms. And have a taste, then.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x best friend reader

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soaps-mohawk · 5 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Summary: In life, we will be confronted with difficult choices. Sometimes you won't know you've made the wrong choice until it's too late

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 12,900 words

Warnings: Dead dove: do not eat, Angst, graphic violence and torture, mentions of predatory behavior towards a minor, Phillip Graves is a major creep, lots blood and injuries, kidnapping and its aftermath, hostage situations, anxiety and panic attacks, language, very explicitly described torture, ‘mega gets hit a lot, choking, biting, ‘mega gets stabbed with an ice pick, author can’t write COD missions, vomiting, lots of heavy emotions, detailed descriptions of pain, guns, background character dies on screen, descriptions of guilt and grief, lots of POV changes, some descriptive language of gore and blood at the end, rehashing of ‘mega’s injuries from the last chapter, a lot of angst and very heavy content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe

A/N: This chapter deals with some pretty heavy content. Please, please, please read and heed the warnings. I have included content warnings for the more graphic parts before they happen, so if you don't want to read those, you can skip ahead to the next part. I suggest taking breaks if you need to, read it in installments if necessary. And I cannot stress it enough, please heed the warnings.

11/30/24 **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“Hi darlin’.” His grin widens like he’s happy to see you. “Been a long time.”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, your brain still sluggish. You feel sick as you try to process, try to figure out why and how. You try to move your arms again, but your wrists are stuck, hands burning as you pull. You desperately want them free, desperately need them free.

“Easy,” Phil says, putting his hands on yours, pushing them flat against the arms of the chair. They’re warm and calloused, the same hand that had been on your face a few moments ago. “You’re gonna hurt yourself. More than you already have been.” He lifts your left leg, making you groan quietly as a deep ache throbs down to your foot and up to your hip.

Running. A gunshot. Pain.

“He had strict orders not to harm you.” Phil says, adjusting the bandage wrapped around your calf. “Don’t worry. We got you all fixed up.” He sets your leg back down gingerly, his touch lingering for a moment before he looks back up at you.

“Why?” You croak out, trying to make sense of what happened.

Corporal McKinney broke into the barracks and chased you into the woods. He shot you and drugged you and now you’re here, restrained in a chair staring at a man you haven’t seen for years. A man who was once your dad’s best friend.

“A lot has happened since we saw each other last.” He says, pushing himself to stand. “I left the Marines after a few years, formed my own group of military contractors. Invited your dad to join, but you know how he is. All honor and duty and serving the country. Of course, you haven’t seen him in quite a while, have you?”

You stare up at him, starting to get scared. You never liked Phil. There was always something about him that put you off. He always stared too long, always sat too close to you. He always greeted you with a hug that lasted too long, squeezing you too tightly against him. He was sweet on you in a way he wasn’t with anyone else. He could be intense, brash and almost downright rude sometimes. He was a firm believer in traditional packs too, even if he never spoke about his own pack, his own omega. He had to have one, if he was as dedicated as he said.

He was far too much like your father.

Phil was always kinder to you, though. Softer. Not quite as callous and bellicose as your father in public. He was polite, always happy to lend a hand, always glad to roughhouse with your brothers to get their energy out. You saw the way your mother looked at him though. Perhaps her apprehension bled into you, those dormant omega instincts picking up on something she was projecting.

He made you uncomfortable, and she knew it.

What could an omega do, though, in a world where they don’t have opinions, they can’t argue, they can’t disagree. Your mother never said anything because in the world your family existed in, the world Phil existed in, she couldn’t.

“He was so angry when he called.” Phil continues, staring down at you. “Ranting and raving about how his oldest daughter betrayed him by presenting as an omega. He couldn’t stand having such a useless child in his perfect pack.” You flinch at his words, even though you heard your father spew those very words after your presentation firsthand.

“He called you?” You ask, the pieces starting to come together as your brain finally snaps fully into awareness. You knew he called someone, but you hadn’t thought it would ever be Phil.

“Of course.” Phil chuckles. “We were good friends, pals, buddies. He knew I could help him.” A shiver runs down your spine. You know what he’s going to say next. “So I did. I have some contacts in some high places, people who owe me favors. So I made some calls, pulled some strings, got you into FIOT immediately, with some strings attached of course.” He leans down so you’re almost face to face. “I wanted you. They put a note in your file. You wouldn’t be placed in the registry when you were old enough, you would go to me and my pack.”

Bile churns in your stomach as you process his words. It all makes sense now. The stares, the hugs, the closeness with your father, your rapid enrollment in an institute that can take weeks to process applications. It was all so you could be his. Something he’s wanted from early on.

“You would have been mine,” He pushes himself up straight again, starting to pace back and forth in front of you. “If the fucking CIA hadn’t gotten involved!” You flinch as his voice raises, the frustration starting to darken his scent. “They froze your file, made the claim null and void. All for what, their little initiative that never really existed in the first place?” He huffs out a laugh, a smirk tilting his lips. “Small world, though. Who knew we’d be seeing each other again after so long.”

He steps closer, looking down at you. You hold his gaze, suddenly feeling afraid. Even though you know him, even though you spent a good part of your childhood around him, you’re afraid of him right now. Your mind starts to revert back, the urge to lower your eyes, break eye contact like you’re supposed to flashing through your mind.

Don’t stare alphas in the eyes. They’ll take that as a challenge. It’s not your job to challenge them. Your job is to be subservient.

You would have been subservient to him if the CIA hadn’t gotten involved. You would have been under his control, bowing to him and his will. You’d have pups by now, at least one. He’d always talked about having a big pack with lots of pups someday, always glancing at you when he said it.

You’re going to vomit all over him.

It’s not just the truth that scares you, though. You’re being held captive here. That thought has registered in your mind now, the reality settling in as you get over the shock of the last few minutes. Corporal McKinney kidnapped you from base, and now you’re restrained in a chair surrounded by unknown alphas. Phil isn’t going to help you, take pity on you. He’s not here to be nice, to have a little chat and catch up on life.

That possibly ended as soon as he was denied what he wanted.

His hand cups your chin, holding your face up as he looks down at you. His thumb is rough as it strokes your jaw, a tickling feeling starting in the back of your mind again. There’s an almost bittersweet look in his eyes as he holds your gaze. You refuse to lower it, refuse to give him that satisfaction. “You’ve grown up a lot.” He says, his hand sliding down your neck to the collar of your shirt. “You always were cute, though. I knew early on you were going to be an omega. You were far too...calm and compliant compared to your brothers. Always so polite and eager to please. You can tell if you pay attention, you know. Those dormant instincts start to show themselves long before presentation.”

His hand pulls your collar to the side, revealing your mark. His eyes harden as he stares at it, his lips turning down into a frown. A shiver runs down your spine as the darkness in his scent intensifies. He’s not holding you hostage just to tell you about what could have been, what direction your life might have taken. He’s here for a reason, and you know your pack is involved. Something has happened, something behind the scenes, something John was looking into.

“What’s going on?” You ask as he releases your collar, taking a step back.

“Well, you’re being held hostage.” He says, like it isn’t already obvious. “You’re...shall we say...leverage to ensure your pack follows orders.”

You blink at him. You haven’t heard from or spoken to your pack in weeks. You should be relieved that they’re apparently still alive, but what if you had been right and they don’t want you anymore? Why would they take you if your pack has abandoned you? Or did they take you to ensure they wouldn’t...

“Laswell stuck her nose somewhere it shouldn’t have been.” Phil says, crossing his arms. “It’s only so long before your pack finds out. Let’s just say...they’re not going to be happy about it. So, to ensure they don’t do something impulsive and reckless as they are known to do, you’re going to play hostage.”

You gulp as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling very afraid. Your scent spikes in the air, clouding it with the bitter scent of anxiety. It was the plan all along. You knew it even if you hadn’t been told outright. Deep down you’ve always known it wasn’t about strengthening packs. It wasn’t about studying how an omega would increase or decrease the efficiency of military packs. With the events of the last few months, the idea had started to form in your mind. You know you weren’t alone in those thoughts. John and Simon were digging into the cameras for a reason. They were put up for a reason.

It was always about control.

That was the point of the initiative. That was why they put cameras up, that was why General Shepherd was so invested in the state of your pack and if you had been mated. He needed to ensure you were close enough to them so if something happened that wasn’t supposed to, you could be used against them.

You’re nothing more than leverage.

Your scent spikes in the air, clouding the room as reality sinks into you. Something happened that caused this. Something called your pack away to isolate you, to leave you vulnerable. They wanted you alone as a contingency.

Something did happen.

Now you’re here, being held captive by a man you used to know, a man who could have been your alpha had things not played out the way they did. The thought has your stomach churning. How far will they go? How far will Phil take things? Could he be merciful because of your history? Or will his ruined plan make him more ruthless?

You’ll be punished for something you can’t control.

Phil makes a soft sound as he looks at you, shaking with fear in the chair. “Don’t be scared. As long as your pack does as they’re told, I won’t have to hurt you.” He turns the light back to face you, nearly blinding you. “Now, smile for the camera.”

They’re safe.

It had been close. A rough position to be in, but they managed it. He never doubted them and their abilities, but four against nearly fifty with no backup were not good odds. He’s been in tighter places before, and while he had his doubts, he is grateful Johnny and Simon were sent in when they were. Even if it was a bit suspicious.

“All accounted for.” John says as he sinks down onto one of the jump seats next to Kyle.

They’re all battered and bruised from their final fight. He’s ready to get home, ready to get back to you. From the sound of it, things were not going well, according to Johnny and Simon. He has a lot to make up for, a lot of apologies to make.

“Fucking Russian PMCs.” He says, speaking to Kate over the comms. “It’s not a coincidence Kate.”

Kate lets out a sigh that crackles through the comm. “No, it’s not. My team and I came across some information while we were digging into the cameras.”

“What information?” He asks slowly and carefully. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark, especially when it comes to his pack. Especially when it comes to you.

“Not just information on the initiative, but information on General Shepherd.”

“What information?” He asks again, slower this time as Johnny and Simon move in closer.

“Shepherd was the one that sold those weapons to AQ and the Russians.”

John looks at the other three members of his team. He knew something was wrong, something was off about the way Shepherd had acted while informing them about this mission. “He wanted those missiles found and destroyed so he could cover his own ass.” He says, his stomach starting to twist. He doesn’t like the way this is going.

“But we found out the truth before you could find all the missiles.” Kate continues. “He sent you on a wild goose chase to give himself a chance to escape.”

John’s hand tightens into a fist. “Where is he now?”

“He’s gone dark. Totally off radar.”

John pushes himself up to stand, the adrenaline pumping again. “I’m going to find that bastard-”

“John.” Kate says, cutting him off. “There’s something else.”

The twisting in his stomach intensifies. There’s a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to entertain the dark thoughts that are brewing. “What?”

“They took your omega.”

His stomach clenches, his breath catching in his lungs. The other three shift on their feet, all of them stepping closer. The scent in the plane thickens, anger and confusion mixing into a toxic cocktail. He hopes he heard that wrong, that there was some kind of interference in the connection and his brain made up the words he missed. “Repeat that.”

“They took your omega.” Kate says again.

He lets out a long breath, his muscles tensing. He’s had a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind for the last few days. Something was wrong, something was off. He should have known it was all a ruse. Why would AQ and the Russians store a missile in any of the places they had been sent to in the last week? It hadn’t made sense, and he had wanted to voice his doubts, but the consequences of a missile being launched because they decided not to look in one place was greater than his own perceived doubts.

They had been right though.

Of course it had all been a plan. Of course there had been something fishy about it. He’s hardly ever wrong. He’s been praised on his instincts on the field and off. He should have known. Pulling Simon and Johnny when they did should have been enough evidence, even if they had been needed in the end.

“You’re positive?” He knows she is. There’s no mistaking something like that, there’s no doubting it.

“There’s a video.” Kate says, John’s stomach dropping. “I’m sending it to you now.”

John pulls out his phone, his fingers white as he holds it up. He’s angry, beyond angry. If they’ve laid a hand on you...if you’ve been hurt because of his own failings, his own inability to see the truth...

He clicks on the video when it comes in, a familiar face popping up on screen. “Hi boys. Been a while.”

“Fucking Graves.” Johnny growls, his hands closing into fists in anger.

“I have a little something of yours I think you might be interested in.” He turns the camera around, your face popping up on screen. You’re restrained in a chair, wrists red from the zip ties, but there’s a glare on your face, looking as mean and threatening as you can. There’s a bruise on your cheek and what looks like a healing cut on your lip. Someone hit you.

“Smile for the camera.” Graves says, a bit too cheerfully.

You don’t smile, your glare sharpening as the camera gets closer to your face. There’s still fight left in you. Whatever has happened hasn’t been too bad. Yet.

“Let’s make this simple.” Graves says. “You stay away from Shepherd, and I won’t have to hurt this pretty little face. She is pretty, isn’t she?”

You shift in the chair, your leg lifting before you kick outward.

“Ow, you little bitch.” The camera jostles for a moment before it’s straightened back up, a hand shooting out to wrap around your throat. There’s no sign of any struggle, the glare still prominent on your face. “Feisty thing. Gotta keep up with those wild boys somehow.”

The hand tilts your face just slightly, showing the mark on your neck. It is you, not that John doubted that from the beginning. It may have been almost two months, but he wouldn’t forget your face that easily.

“Like I said,” Graves continues. “Follow your orders and she’ll be released unharmed.”

The screen goes dark and John resists the urge to throw his phone. He shoves it back into his pocket, turning towards the wall of the plane. He throws his fist against the metal as hard as he can. It hurts, but he can barely feel it over the rage burning hot in him.

“Fucking Shepherd!” He shouts, rearing back to throw his hand against the wall again.

Graves has his omega. Graves has his omega and now you’re being used as leverage. They’re all being played like puppets.

A hand catches his fist before he can punch the wall again, easing him back. “Easy.” Kyle says, trying to soothe him as best he can. “We have proof of life, we know that she’s alright for now.”

“For now.” He growls, looking around at the members of his team. “But for how long?”

“They knew we’d go after Shepherd as soon as we learned the truth.” Simon says. “This has been in the plans for a long time.”

“They’re trying to get us to make a choice. Focus on getting our omega back while letting Shepherd escape, or go after Shepherd and let our omega be tortured.” Kyle says.

“Those fuckin’ wankstains.” Johnny says, shifting on his feet. He’s angry, the bitter scent filling the enclosed area of the plane. They’re all angry, angry at those responsible, and angry at themselves for falling for it. “They were usin’ us the whole time.”

John lets out a long breath. He needs a clear head going forward. He needs to be able to beat them at their own game and cause the least amount of damage to you as possible. As much as going after Shepherd first is tempting, cut the head off the snake and end things before they get too far, he knows that won’t stop Graves. He’ll continue even after Shepherd is dead.

There might even be a second contingency. They kill Shepherd, you die too.

“John, we can’t leave her.” Kyle says, still holding his hand. His fingers are wrapped tight around his wrist, trying to ground him as best as he can in this tumultuous moment.

“The longer we wait, the worse things will get.” Simon says. “We go after Shepherd, we may never see her again.”

There won’t be anything to come back to.

He stares at his pack, all standing there, staring at him, waiting for him to make his decision. He’s their Captain, he’s their alpha. It is his decision in the end. He’s the one that they will follow, even if he makes the wrong decision. Even if he tears them apart in the end.

“Where is she?” John growls, into his comms.

“We’re working on decrypting the video now.” Kate replies.

“I need a location, Kate.” John says impatiently, heading towards the cockpit. For all he knows those flying the plane are in on it too.

“We’re doing the best we can with what we’ve got. You’ll be the first to know as soon as we find something.” Kate tried to placate him.

“I better be.” He growls.

Kate lets out a sigh as the comms close off. It’s not a captain she’s speaking to anymore, it’s an angry alpha. His pack, his omega is being threatened and now they all have to face the ramifications of it. She’s just as much a cog in this machine. She fell for this, she brought you into this, and now you might get hurt because of it. How she didn’t see the reality has shame burning through her. They were all blind, all led astray, all fooled by the red herring.

There was never an initiative. It was never about strengthening packs. It was always about control. They wanted a way to control packs. Shepherd knew if the secret ever came out, there would be no stopping the consequences. Legal or illegal, retribution would come for him if the truth was revealed.

This was his way of stopping it.

That's why the 141 were the guinea pigs.

They are the most dangerous threat to Shepherd, and he handed them a way to control them under the guise of strengthening packs, experimenting on how their dynamics and efficiency would shift with an omega added in. Even worse, they all fell for it.

Time is of the essence now. Graves won’t stop, even as word reaches Shepherd that they’re easing off of him. Her only hope is that Graves won’t kill you. That will give them nothing to live for, and it will make them more ruthless than they already are. They’ll go after Graves, and then they’ll turn their eyes to Shepherd.

No matter what you’ll always be a way to control them.

If she can find Graves, she can send out a team to get eyes on his location. That way, they’ll have a direction she can point them in, and they won’t be going in blindly. This is a delicate situation, and she can’t trust Graves to uphold his end of the deal in this. They’re not going after Shepherd, but will that stop Graves from hurting you just because he can?

There’s more to this than they’re letting on. She knows it, deep down. There’s something else, something even deeper below the surface.

She’s got a lot of work to do.

They’re going to need help.

Christine can’t sit still anymore. She can't take it. It’s been almost eighteen hours since your disappearance and there’s been nothing. No word, no news. She knows you’re alive. Kate had confirmed that, but that hasn’t eased the burning questions eating away at her mind. What is your current state? Who took you and why? Where is your pack and are they even aware of what’s happening?

She’s been sitting and twirling her thumbs. She can’t bring herself to do any paperwork, any research. What is there to do besides sit and worry? She doesn’t have a patient to take care of because she lost the one she was supposed to watch.

She huffs out a breath, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing Kate. If Kate won’t call, she’ll call herself. Kate’s probably busy though, so Christine can’t blame her too much for not calling. She’s probably so far from the front of Kate’s mind right now.

The phone rings twice before Kate answers, sounding tired and disheveled, just as much as Christine feels.

“Laswell.”

“Kate, I need to be there.” She doesn't hold back, doesn’t try to make small talk. There’s no time for it. She knows how Kate is doing, and it’s not great.

“Christine, I don’t know if I can take that risk.” She says.

“I need to be there. I can't take sitting around here anymore. When...” When not if. They will find you. She knows it. “When you find her, she’s going to need someone she knows there, someone that knows how to take care of her.” Christine lets out a breath, the relief of getting her thoughts out taking some of the weight off her shoulders.

Kate sighs, but she has to know Christine is right. She’s not sure what state you’re in, and depending on how bad it is, and where your pack is, you’re going to need her. Even if you think she was behind this. “I’ll have a plane ready to go in thirty minutes.”

“Thank you, Kate.” She says, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t miss the flight.”

Christine hangs up, gathering a couple things from her office before closing and locking her door. She nearly runs to her barracks, packing a bag quickly. She’s not sure what to bring, or how long this will take. She’s not even sure exactly where she’s going.

She hurries to the airfield, phone in hand. She’s not sure where the plane is or which one she’s taking. She’s just relieved Kate is doing this for her.

Her phone buzzes as she reaches the tarmac, making her pause. She lets out an annoyed sigh before answering the call.

“Of course you have to call at the worst possible moment.” She says.

“I’ve always had the worst timing.” Alex’s voice comes through the speaker, and she can almost hear the smile on his face.

“I can’t talk long. I’m about to board a plane.” She says.

“I know. We’ll pick you up on the tarmac.”

She blinks in surprise. It’s been years since she’s seen her brother, months since she’s spoken with him. Ever since he retired from Delta Force, his regular calls have been happening less and less, and they’ve reached near radio silence over the last couple years. Now he’s involved in this too?

“Kate called in a favor.” He continues, and that’s all she needs to know. “We’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Yeah.” She says, tears brimming in her eyes as she smiles. Despite everything, she’s glad she gets to see her brother again. Glad she has some support in this. Your pack will be mad. They’ll blame her. She’s not afraid of them, but she knows Alex will stand behind her no matter what. “See you then.”

**Content Warning: light torture, ‘mega gets punched, further injury to previous injuries, panic attack**

Your hands are starting to go numb. The constant attempts to free yourself from the zip ties isn’t helping, but you’re beginning to get twitchy. Your omega is scratching at the back of your mind, begging to be free, but you know you won’t survive it. The room is full of armed mercenaries, and you’re sure if you tried to take out Phil first, you’d be pumped full of bullets before you could even do any damage.

He’s leaning against the wall far too casually, staring at the phone he’d used to record the first video of you. His explanation had been simple. Your pack stops going after General Shepherd, you don’t get hurt. The longer they chase Shepherd, the more Phil gets to torture you until they decide your life is worth more than Shepherd’s.

Will they choose you over Shepherd? What if they’ve already decided to abandon you? What if your fears were right and they’ve given up, and that’s why they were gone so long? They won’t care what happens to you if they have written you off as a burden, as a loss. They’ll let Phil torture you to death and they won’t even blink an eye. You’ll just be another casualty.

It makes your stomach hurt, the idea of your pack letting you die. Even the idea of someone who had once been a friend of your family being so cold towards you has nausea bubbling in your belly. He doesn’t care. His only worry is money, not the past. He doesn’t care. He’ll do the bidding of whoever offers the highest price.

He lets out a sigh, pocketing his phone as he pushes himself off of the wall. “Looks like your boys don’t follow orders well.” He bends down, putting his hands on his knees so he’s face to face with you. “They’ve decided to leave you here with me. Looks like Shepherd was wrong. They don’t really care about you as much as everyone thought they did. Makes me sad, them abandoning you so easily.”

You try to ignore his words, try to convince yourself he’s doing it on purpose, trying to mentally break you. Yet you can’t deny those words play exactly into your doubts, your fears. Have they really left you here, choosing Shepherd over you? Would they decide to do that? How easy had that decision been made?

Tears blur your vision as you stare up at Phil, your eyes burning as you try to put on the bravest face you can. You won’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to you, playing into your fears.

“Unfortunately, that means I have to hurt you.” He stands up straight, staring down at you for a moment before pulling his fist back, hitting you across the face.

You see stars for a moment, your head snapping to the side. The left side of your face is numb, the taste of metal flooding over your tongue. You’re bleeding, blood pooling in your mouth. A hand grips your chin, pulling you back so you’re sitting up straight in the chair. You stare up at Phil, the fear fading away to anger as you glare up at him. Your face is throbbing, and you know it’s going to swell and bruise later, more than it already has thanks to Corporal McKinney.

Traitorous bastard.

They all are.

“I do feel bad for hurting that pretty face.” He says, stroking your jaw with his thumb.

The movement is impulsive, the anger becoming too much. You spit the blood in your mouth in his face, the droplets splattering across his skin. He turns his head away for a moment, bringing his other hand up to wipe at the blood.

“That wasn’t very nice.” He says, looking down at you.

“Fuck you, you fucking creep!” You yell, kicking at him with your bad leg.

He releases your face, catching your leg easily. He pushes his thumb against the bullet wound, all the fight leaving you as pain tears through your body. You let out a scream, trying to pull your leg away but he won’t let you. He holds his thumb there as you scream, the tears streaming down your face.

“Okay, okay please! Please stop!” You beg, the pain radiating up into your hip and side. You can’t take it anymore, your brain starting to go fuzzy as you hyperventilate.

He releases your leg, his hand wrapping around your throat to lift your face. The tears are streaming down your cheeks, mixing with the blood from the cut on your cheek. There’s no sympathy, not even regret in his eyes as he stares down at you.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but if you can’t behave, I’ll have to do just that.” He releases you as you continue to hyperventilate, your eyes starting to glaze. You’re distressing. Will Phil help you? Will he do what he has to do to keep you alive? If you die, there won’t be anything stopping your pack. The entire plan will be over. They’ll go after Shepherd, then they’ll hunt down Phil.

Cold ice water hits you in the face, shocking you back into clarity. Phil is holding the cup of water he’d been letting you drink from periodically. You blink at him as water drips into your eyes, your breaths hitching but far slower than they had been. You’re awake and aware now.

You didn’t even know it was possible to do that.

“Don’t distress on me now.” He says, putting the cup down. “We have so much ahead of us.” He moves around to the back of your chair, bending down until his breath hits your ear. “Besides, you make me help you out of distress, I might not be able to stop myself.”

Your eyes pinch closed as his lips brush the shell of your ear before he stands back up, tears mixing with the icy water still sliding down your face.

“Please tell me you have good news.” Kyle says as they stand around the table. John is still fuming, anger rolling off of him like it has been since they found out the news. He’s hanging onto the quickly fraying strings of control he still has on his alpha.

“We’ve narrowed down locations to the US.” Kate says, standing bravely before them. It’s not the first time she’s been before an angry alpha. It’s not the first time she’s been before an angry John.

“Damn it, Kate, we need a location.” John says, slamming his hands down on the table.

“We’re working on it as fast as we can.” Kate says, unflinching. “We’ve got limited people and resources now. We can’t trust just anyone anymore.”

John lets out a long breath as Kyle puts a hand on his chest. He’s tired. They can all see it in his face. He’s tired and angry and rapidly losing control.

Simon pushes Kyle to the side, blocking John’s view of anything but him. The big alpha puts his hands on John’s shoulders, looking him right in the eye. “You won’t do her any good by raging like this.” He says, his voice flat and calm. “You know these things don’t happen immediately. They’re underground for a reason and we just have to be patient.”

“She doesn’t have that kind of time.” John says loudly, but there’s a strain to his voice.

“It’s better to wait and have a direct location than to run around on a wild goose chase. That’s what they want. They want us angry and thinking on instinct.” He squeezes John’s rapidly drooping shoulders. “We all want her back, but we just have to trust Graves will keep his end of the deal.”

“She’s stronger than she looks.” Johnny says. “She’ll give ‘em hell.”

John runs a hand over his face as he begins to deflate. They’re right. It’s better to wait and know for sure than to waste time running around and exhausting themselves.

“Please tell me you have any news.” John says, moving back towards the table.

“I do.” Kate says. “I’ve called in some backup. They’ll be here shortly.”

Christine nearly runs down the ramp once the plane has stopped on the runway. She’s jet lagged and worn out after eight hours of worrying, but she’s eager not only to finally get some news on you and your status, but to see her brother for the first time in a long time.

It’s not hard to find him.

“Chrissy!” He grins, hugging her tightly.

She has half a mind to complain about the nickname she’d endured her entire childhood, but she can’t find it in her as she hugs her brother tightly. She’s missed him, more than she realized. Their jobs have kept them busy, her with her medical studies and practice, and Alex with...whatever it is he does.

“It’s been far too long.” She says, pulling away from him. She’d love to stand there and hug him for an hour, but she can’t. They have more important things to do. Time is of the essence, if her worst fears are true.

“A lot has happened, a lot has changed.” He says.

She looks him over, spotting the more noticeable changes in comparison to the last time they were face to face. “You could say that.”

“We can talk about it later.” He turns to the other person with him, a woman. “Christine, this is Farah.” He introduces her. “Farah, this is my baby sister Christine.”

“Nice to meet you.” Farah says, shaking her hand.

“You as well.” Christine looks between them for a moment. She knows that look in Alex’s eyes as he looks at Farah.

“We should get moving.” Farah says, ignoring him.

“Laswell has moved off the grid.” Alex says, opening the driver’s side of the SUV.

Smart, if things are as bad as she thinks they are.

Christine gets into the back, letting out a long breath. She’s closer now to finding out what’s happened to you. The guilt is still eating her alive. If she just hadn’t left, if she hadn’t believed the phone call, put it above your safety.

Things might have been worse if she had stayed.

“Kate filled us in about everything.” Alex says as he drives away from the airfield. “At least in regards to the pack and your involvement.”

“There’s some things she’s not telling us.” Farah says. “Though if things are as bad as they sound, I don’t blame her.”

“I don’t know much of anything.” Christine says, staring out the window as they drive out of the city. “I feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t left her alone...”

“It’s hardly your fault.” Alex says, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “If this was all planned, there wouldn’t have been anything that would stop it from happening.”

“They might have done worse if you had stayed there.” Farah says, speaking Christine’s own fears aloud.

“I wish I could see her. Make sure she’s alright.” Christine says. “If something happens to her...”

“From what I hear she’s a hardy omega.” Alex says, trying to comfort her. “She’s withstood a lot. She can survive the 141, she’s probably giving them hell as we speak.”

**Content Warnings: light torture, choking to the point of almost passing out, blood, very detailed descriptions of pain, non-fatal stabbing**

It’s getting hard to breathe. Phil’s grip around your throat is getting tighter and tighter, less and less oxygen getting to your bloodstream and your brain. Your mouth has an almost permanent metallic taste as blood drips down your chin. Blood stains Phil’s arm from where you bit him, teeth marks red and angry looking from where they broke the skin.

“You fucking bitch.” He growls, jaw clenched. “Your alpha should have taught you some manners.”

His hand squeezes tighter, cutting the air off entirely. You begin to panic, tugging against the restrains with your raw, cut up wrists. Black dots begin to dance in your vision, your legs straining against the zip ties keeping them attached to the chair. Your hands and feet are going numb, your entire body tingling. This is it. You’re going to be choked to death.

He holds his hand there for a moment, letting you struggle before he lets go and you suck in a gasp of air. You slump over in the chair, blood splattering on the floor as you cough, your throat raw and sore. Tears burn in your eyes as you heave, trying to get the oxygen flowing through your body again.

Phil bends down to your level as you sit there, head hanging as blood drips from your mouth. Your tongue is raw from how many times you’ve bitten it. It’s impossible to tell how much time has really passed. There’s no windows in the room. The only light source is the cracks around the door behind you. Even then with the bright light in your face constantly, it’s hard to tell anything anymore.

“Feisty still, but everyone has their limits.” His hand cups your chin as he stands, lifting your face to follow him. His hand holds the back of your head up as he wipes at the blood under your nose and on your chin almost gently.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you stare up at him, unable to even care anymore that his hand is so close to your neck. All he has to do is move it down just slightly and squeeze and you’ll be unaware of anything around you, at the mercy of his bidding.

That would almost be a relief.

He dumps another icy cup of water over your head, keeping you from slipping too much into a panic. The cold water stings the cut on your chest and the one on your arm as it slides down your shoulders. You’ve lost the ability to feel the throbbing in your calf, numb to most of the pain in your body.

Why haven’t they come for you? Where is your pack?

Have they written you off for good? Was finding Shepherd more important than you?

Phil’s phone goes off, your stomach dropping. He stares at the screen for a second before turning back to you.

You shake your head, the tears cascading down your cheeks. “No,” You start to shake. “No, please-”

“You know I have to, darlin’.” He moves behind you, tugging on your hair to keep your head up as one of his men stands in front of you with a phone in hand.

He counts down on his fingers before pressing record.

“Having fun yet?” Phil says as he reaches around your head, holding your chin in his hand. He tilts your head back making you look up at him. “We sure are. Aren’t we, darlin’? Tell them. Tell them how much fun we’re having.”

You’re still crying, unable to stop as you stare at the camera. They really have given up on you. They’ve deemed you unworthy of saving. They’ve let you sit here and be beat up and tortured all because they put the job first.

They really have given up on you.

Are they even watching?

“Please,” You croak out, half begging your pack to care, half begging Phil to have mercy.

“Since you can’t seem to bring yourselves to care about your own omega,” He shifts slightly, someone handing him something behind you. You catch a glint of metal, your heart rate picking up. You’re panicking, breaths coming in shaky gasps. You know he can do worse. He’s threatened worse, but what is he going to do? “It seems you need a little more...motivation.”

You try to wiggle out of his grasp in panic, wrists bleeding again from tugging at the zip ties. They’re coated in your blood, your leg throbbing but you don’t care. You need to get away, get free. “No, no-”

You let out a scream.

It’s sharp and piercing, but nowhere near the sharp pain in your neck. It fires through your very nerve endings, making you aware of the very cells in your body. It shoots up into your brain, igniting every neuron in your brain. Your very blood feels like it’s boiling, your skin on fire from the pain. Every inhale feels like you’re breathing in sand, and every exhale is like glass shards dragging through your lungs and up your throat. The tears streaming down your face may as well be slicing through layers of skin, every wound pulsing and throbbing with a new kind of angry vengeance.

You’re sobbing, nearly choking on air as the pain continues to pulse in your body. It’s too much, every sensation inside and outside of your body meshing together in an agonizing harmony.

“Shhh.” Phil tries to shush you as he bends down, his cheek resting against the side of your head. “I know, I know. You’ll be alright.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head before letting you go limp in the chair.

Your scream still hangs in the air even after the video ends.

It’s otherwise silent in the room, all eight of them feeling the weight of their decisions on their shoulders. The scents in the air are full of pain and regret and guilt and anger.

“Was that fatal?” Kate asks, breaking the tense silence.

“No.” Christine chokes out, her voice shaky. Her hands are trembling where they’re tucked against her sides. Her arms are crossed over her chest, trying to bring herself some kind of comfort after what she had just watched. “He went for the scent gland. It’s not a fatal injury, unless you go too deep, but he knew what he was doing.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “It’s just incredibly painful.”

Her words hang in the air for a moment, all of them still trying to process what they had just seen.

John slams his hands on the table, all of them jumping. “I fucking told you.” He says, his voice laced with the deep growl of his alpha. “I fucking told you Kate, she should have been flown out here as soon as you made the call.”

“I know.” Kate says, undeterred by his anger. She’s seen it many times, though she’s rarely been on the receiving end of it. “I know, I made a bad call. None of us knew they would take it this far.”

“But we knew something was going on behind the scenes.” John says, still radiating anger. “All precautions should have been taken.”

“There was no guarantee her being here would have stopped them. She might not have been any safer here.” Kate says, trying to ease his anger, even though she knows it’s completely warranted. “This goes far deeper than we thought it did. Even before this plan was set into motion.” She waits a moment, letting the air settle. “A year ago, a convoy was smuggling missiles and other weapons into the Middle East in an off-the-books operation. The convoy was attacked and the missiles and arms were stolen by a Russian PMC group. The operation was conducted under the command of Shepherd, and the soldiers in the convoy were all Shadow Company.”

“That’s how Graves is tied into this.” Kyle says.

“It goes deeper than that.” Kate says, pulling up a file and displaying it on screen. “The missiles and weapons being smuggled weren’t being sent to aid allies in the Middle East. Shepherd sold them to AQ and the Russians. The PMC group that attacked Shadow Company was hired by Shepherd to make it look like an ambush.”

“Fucking weasel.” Simon growls.

“I don’t know how much Graves knows, or how much he helped hide the entire operation, but his ties to this go even deeper than that.” Kate says, and they all shift closer. “Graves has history with your omega.” She says, pulling up an old photo. “We combed through one of her brothers’ Facebook pages. Found an old photo of her dad with Graves. They served on the same base when her family lived in Texas before Graves left to join MARSOC. She would have still been a child at the time.”

They stare at the photo, Graves clearly identifiable as he stands next to another man, beers in their hands. There’s two other boys in the photo, young and grinning at the camera. Standing in front of Graves is a little girl, a happy grin on her face. They’re all in various combinations of red, white, and blue.

4th of July, they assume.

“That’s how she got into the institute so fast.” John says, staring at the photo. He’s never seen a photo of your father before. You must take after your mother. “Graves pulled the strings.”

Kate nods. “He did, but under the condition he would be the one to claim her when she grew old enough. The CIA wiped out that claim when they froze her file.”

The 141 all shift on their feet, sharing looks. John feels a sick twisting in his stomach at the implications. Your position in the photo suddenly makes sense. Anger burns in him, deep and bubbling like magma. He’ll kill the bastard.

“This is revenge then.” Johnny says.

“In a way, I think.” Kate says. “We took away what he wanted. Graves wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.”

“This all is what the initiative was created for.” Christine says, leaning against the table. “A contingency in case this all was uncovered.”

“A way to control us.” Kyle says.

Kate nods. “Yes. It was all a plan to give the 141 a weakness, a way to be controlled should the situation arise. In this case it just so happened to be the uncovering of his traitorous arms deals.”

“We were all pawns in this.” Christine says.

“We let them walk right in and take control like that.” John says, turning to Christine. “You let them walk in and take our omega.”

She turns to face him, undeterred by his agitation and anger. “I did what I thought was right at the time. I got a call from one of the front desk workers in the med center saying that someone was waiting in my office for me.” She explains. “They wouldn’t say who it was, and the whole thing felt off. I knew whoever would be visiting me was not going to be friendly, so I felt it was safer to leave her in the barracks than take her with me and risk something happening in a place she doesn’t know well. In the barracks at least she’d know places to hide and barricade herself.”

She takes a deep breath, still facing down John fearlessly. He’s coiled tight like a spring, ready to jump at any moment should he deem it necessary. It’s those protective instincts, the knowledge that his omega is somewhere else, taken unwillingly and being tortured feeding into that need to fight.

“My office door was open when I got there.” She continues. “I always leave it locked. I went in prepared to fight, but I was attacked from behind. Hit over the head and drugged with something fast acting, something that would keep me incapacitated long enough for him to strike.” She stares up into his eyes, projecting her scent just a bit to try and get him to calm down. “We all made mistakes here, things we thought were the right choice at the time.”

She’s not wrong. They all know it. They had just seen proof of it.

“The assailant?” John asks, turning back to Kate.

“Corporal McKinney.” Kate says. “He was in Shepherd’s pocket from the start. Someone who could watch first-hand. Someone who could sneak into the barracks unnoticed without many questions. He was likely the one that put the cameras up.”

“Fucking wanker.” Simon growls. “He approached her once in the mess. Early on. Tried to introduce himself to her. Backed off as soon as I intervened. Never tried again, at least that we know of.”

“She never mentioned him.” Christine says. “Or anyone else on base that might have tried to approach her.”

“Where is he now?” Kyle asks. They’re all angry, frustrated. How had they not seen this happening?

“Local police tracked his car to an abandoned airfield not far outside of Hereford.” Kate says. “He was dead inside. Police ruled it suicide.”

“I’m sure it was.” John says.

They all know it wasn’t.

“Shadow Company likely picked her up from there with orders to stage a suicide.” Kate says.

“One less loose string to worry about.” Simon says. “Covers their tracks in England.”

They all go quiet. How this had all happened right under their noses? They’re all guilty of falling for it, for being too trusting in a world they know they can’t be too careful in. Allies can turn on a dime and become enemies. Betrayals can be easily bought. Things can turn downhill within a blink of an eye. They’re supposed to be prepared for the worst, ready for every possibility.

They had written this off as a conspiracy, and now their omega is paying for it.

“We need a plan.” Farah says, breaking the silence.

“We can’t let Shepherd get away with this.” John says.

“We cannae just leave her.” Johnny argues against his head alpha. It’s a brave thing, considering his alpha’s current mental state.

“I don’t know how much more she can take.” Simon backs his beta up, the desperation and pain on your face still visible in all of their minds.

“Let us go after Shepherd.” Alex says, offering up a solution. “He’s obviously watching for you to come after him.”

“We can move undetected.” Farah agrees. “He’s less likely to expect us. You need to focus on your omega. Shepherd will show himself again eventually.”

“Do we have a lead on their location?” Kyle asks, turning back to Kate.

She nods. “We do now. I sent a team out to try and track location through the videos and where they were being sent from.” She pulls a map up on screen. “We have a location.”

“Texas.” Alex says.

“He took her home.” Christine says.

“We have a plan then. We go after Graves, Farah and Alex start tracking Shepherd. Kate is eyes in the sky for us.” John says.

“She’s going to need medical attention as soon as possible.” Christine says. She looks at Kate. “Where is the nearest military base from their location?”

Kate types on her computer. “Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base in Fort Worth.”

“Get me there and I’ll be waiting. She’s going to need someone she knows.” She says, looking at John. “She’s not going to just let anyone close to her after this. She may not even let you close.”

John stares down at her for a long moment. She stares back unflinchingly. She doesn’t get intimidated easily, not after years of dealing with institutes and alphas alike.

He lets out a breath, staring down at her for a long moment before he nods. “I trust you.”

“Short reunion this time.”

“I’m just glad I got to see your face again.” Christine says, looking up at Alex.

“Things are...complicated.” He says. “Maybe after all of this is over we can go and get some coffee. Talk about our lives...as much as we can.”

The corner of her mouth twitches up in a smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Alex pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly. “You’re doing good work, Chrissy.”

She shakes her head at the nickname, but she holds him just as tightly. “I’m trying to.”

Alex pulls away, squeezing her arms. “I’d say you are. You care a lot. To the point some might call it a character defect.”

She scoffs, slapping his chest playfully. “Not like you’re much better.” She glances at the car where Farah is waiting patiently. “I’m happy for you.”

“Oh, we’re....” Alex blushes to his ears. “We’re not...”

She gives him a look. “Mhm sure.” She looks up at him one more time. “Be safe.”

“As best I can.” He says. “Take care of yourself. Don’t be too hard on yourself either.”

“I try not to be.” She squeezes his hand before stepping away.

She watches the SUV drive off, stomach churning with nerves for both of them. Shepherd is dangerous, but Alex has fearlessly faced down danger since he was a kid. He’s always been brave and determined, loyal and unafraid to do what he thinks is right no matter what. She trusts him to take care of himself, she trusts Farah to help him, even if she only met the woman today.

She trusts them both to take care of each other. She trusts them both to help put an end to this.

Your body aches, muscles screaming. You can’t take much more. Your cheek throbs painfully, swollen to the point you almost can’t see out of your left eye. The pain burning from your neck makes the other pain in your body nearly irrelevant, nearly nonexistent. It’s like electricity, burning through your very cells. Every movement seems to make it flare, makes the electric shock jolt through you. The burning pain that follows makes you whimper, a pathetic choking sound squeaking out from your bruised throat.

The pain makes you nauseous, vomit staining the front of your shirt and pants. It’s mostly bile and the little food you’ve gotten since your kidnapping.

Nutrient bars, meant to keep you fed and nourished for a short period of time.

You may never be able to eat them again.

“Fuck.” Graves curses, staring at his phone. “They’ve backed off.” He steps up to you, looking down on your pathetic form. “Looks like your boys do care about you after all.”

Do they? Are they really coming for you, or have they simply given up chasing Shepherd because they lost all their leads. Will they come for you, or will they leave you here to rot? What will Graves do then? Try to take you as his own omega? Kill you out of anger?

Your stomach churns and you can feel the bile rising.

You vomit again, the warm liquid splashing into your lap. You can’t lean far enough anymore, not without the risk of not being able to pull yourself back up, not with the pain burning your every movement. You can’t even lift your head anymore, your body weak and battered and bruised. There’s blood everywhere, on you and on the floor. You can still taste it in your mouth, mixing with the sourness of bile.

Graves gives you a disgusted look before turning to the others in the room. “Duran, Lewis, keep watch. The rest of you come with me.”

He leaves the room for the first time in what you assume is days. For once the cocktail of scents begins to disperse, all but two of the alphas finally disappearing. Where they’re going or what they’re going to do, you don’t know. You can’t bring yourself to care either way. You just want to go home. You want to see your mother again, your brothers and sisters, even your father would be a welcome sight after this. You want your alpha, you want him to hold you, to take you in his arms, keep you safe.

He abandoned you. He left you to suffer like this.

Your breathing picks up as you sit there, chin to chest as you stare at your bloody shirt. The smells in the room are awful, the scents no longer there to block out the sour bile and metallic stench blood. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, pink tinted splatters dripping onto your pants. What are you going to do now? What are they going to do to you now? Will they keep you alive long enough for your pack to arrive then kill you in front of them? Will they torture them too, make them watch as the life slowly leaves your eyes in revenge for chasing after Shepherd?

A sob rips through your sore throat up out of your lips.

You just want to go home.

You just want to be free.

You can be.

Distress. The final defense. The last ditch effort omegas have to save themselves. Distress will lead to your omega taking over, and if nothing else, a quiet death you won’t even realize is happening. Your body will give out and you’ll be safely tucked into the back of your brain, comforted by your instincts. You won’t have to worry anymore. You won’t have to care.

If nothing else, the pain will be over.

I’m sorry.

You begin to breathe heavier, ignoring the pain in your body as you push yourself to hyperventilate. The alphas behind you might do something, might try to stop it. They could, but would they even know how? Would it even work if you got too far? They’re not your alpha. They can’t comfort you, bring you back from the edge without forcing you. Will they even bother?

You tilt your head to the side, putting pressure on your injured scent gland. You sob at the pain, the burning flowing straight into your very cells, making them scream. You push through it, your wrists twisting against the zip ties, digging them further into your already damaged wrists. The pain pushes you to a point of panic, your heart rate through the roof. You can feel it, the tightening of your muscles, your joints locking into place.

You’ve never done it purposefully before, but in this state, it’s not hard.

They left you. They’ve abandoned you. They’ve given up. It’s all your fault they left. They’re not coming for you. You’re not worth it.

The thoughts send you down the spiral, the edges of your vision starting to go dark. You’re floating away, hands and feet going numb as your wheezing, shallow breaths block the oxygen from getting to your brain. You’re sinking, your body floating as you begin to retreat into the back of your mind. The cage is open, your omega soothing you as you drift off, curling up in the back recesses of your mind.

You’re safe now. She whispers.

There’s no going back.

You’re going to get out.

Even if you have to do it yourself.

The last breath you remember taking is shaky, making you cough before your vision begins to fade to grey, then to black. You’re getting out of here no matter what. You’re going to go to sleep. If you fail, you’ll never know it. Your death will be quick and gentle and you’ll never know it happened until you’ve moved on to whatever is next.

You won’t remember any of this. That’s your only consolation.

Your vision fades to black as all memory and awareness leaves you. The last thing you remember is the snap of the zip ties around your wrists as they break.

“Graves has moved with some of his men to the western building. It’s likely the hostage is being held in the eastern building. Gaz and I will go after Graves. Ghost and Soap will try to secure the hostage.”

“Keller is on her way to NAS JRB as we speak. They’re on standby for medevac.”

“Stealth is our priority. They know we’re here, we risk losing the hostage. Quick and quiet, take them by surprise. The faster we do this, the sooner it will all be over.”

**Content Warning: blood and slight gore, someone gets shot offscreen, some gorey and explicit imagery towards the end**

He’s not unfamiliar with high stakes missions. It’s his specialty. He’s cool and calm under stress and pressure, which is why he gets chosen for them. He can detach easily, get the job done and then go home and forget.

So why are his hands shaking?

This isn’t a high stakes mission, not like one he’s used to doing. The stakes are higher, higher than he’s ever had before. It’s not just eliminating some faceless target, it’s not just rescuing some faceless hostage.

It’s rescuing you.

How much did he get for this assignment? How much did he settle for once he learned you were involved?

He hates that you were involved in all of this. He hates that they all fell for it, blind to the truth, blind to Shepherd’s traitorous actions. They refused to entertain those conspiratorial thoughts, and now you’re paying for it.

He hates it.

He should have never left you alone like that. He should have argued against Price and his decision to leave when they knew something wasn't right. They should have known something was going on behind the scenes, that there was a higher purpose to all of this.

His conspiracies had been correct from the start.

He hates that it had to come to fruition.

How could Graves torture an innocent omega? You're not just an innocent omega to him, though. You're a broken promise, a lost opportunity, one he'd waited for, for a long time. Of course he wouldn't have stopped as soon as they started going after him. He wouldn’t give up just because Shepherd told him to stop. He’s ruthless and uncaring of who he hurts and why. He gets his orders and he completes them, no matter what, so long as whoever is giving those orders can pay a high enough price.

Far too much despite that fact, most likely. Maybe he should become a merc. Less rules and more money.

It’s not a bad idea.

He lasers his focus on the building as they creep through the trees, moving silently. Two against however many are inside. It was impossible to tell with how many were moving between the two buildings constantly.

He brought the whole squad. He planned on putting up a fight regardless.

At least they have the element of surprise on their hands.

“We move silently through the building.” He says as they approach the door. There’s two guards standing outside. “They know we’re inside, things could go downhill quickly.”

“On you, LT.” Johnny says, taking point beside him.

“Drop one, I’ll take the other.” He says, aiming at one of the two Shadows guarding the door.

It’s quick and quiet, their bodies slumping onto the damp dirt. Simon scans the area before moving forward to the door. It’s unlocked, Johnny pushing it open slowly to check for a trip wire.

None.

Sloppy, or perhaps on purpose. They can’t be too careful. Shepherd will have let Graves know they’re not on his trail anymore. He’ll be expecting them.

They split up, combing the bottom floor of the building. He takes out two more Shadows, checking every room for a sign of their target, but they find none.

“Second floor.” He says, waiting at the base of the stairwell for Johnny to join him.

“You think she’s in here?” Johnny asks as they creep up the stairs, careful not to make too much noise.

“Well, we’ll find out.”

It’s far too unguarded to where they’re holding you. Graves will have assumed they’d split up. He must have moved most of his men to the western building to put up as much of a barricade as possible. He can picture Graves standing there, the smirk on his face as he holds a gun to your head. Will he take that risk, shoot you in front of them and give them nothing to live for? Or will he use a knife, letting you die a slow, painful death in front of them?

Or, maybe he moved them to the western building to make them think that’s where you are. Focus their attacks there so they leave you behind. He gets cornered, he send the word to kill you before any of them can get to you.

More red herrings.

He pauses before he reaches the top of the steps, taking out the shadow standing down the hallway. They split up again, looking through rooms at the top of the stairs, making their way down the hallway.

One of the doors is open, and he silently motions for Johnny. He counts down silently in his head before rounding the corner, rifle up as he scans the room. His stomach churns as he looks inside, taking a couple cautious steps forward. He’s seen a lot of things in his time, done a lot of things, but this is different.

“Screaming Jesus.” Johnny says, lowering his rifle as he steps in behind Simon.

There’s blood everywhere.

It’s coating the floors, leaving a sticky residue as it dries. It’s the room you were in. He recognizes it from the video, and the bright light in the corner is a dead giveaway. The chair in the middle of the room has been broken, the wood of the arms snapped off and splintered. There’s four bloody zip ties on the floor, along with several instruments on the floor including the ice pick.

He wants to shove that into Graves’ eye for what he did to you.

There’s two bodies on the floor, one of them dead in a pool of his own blood, the other choking as blood seeps onto the floor under him. He steps up to the shadow, putting his boot on his chest and pushing. The Shadow lets out a groan, coughing up blood.

“Where the fuck is she?” He growls, staring down at the quickly paling face.

“Fucking bitch went crazy.” He chokes out. “Went running.”

Simon steps back, pulling out his handgun and firing two bullets into the Shadow’s head.

“Price, we found the room.” He says into his comm. “The hostage isn’t here. A half-dead Shadow said she bolted.”

“LT.” Johnny says, motioning to the door, the only other exit from the room. There’s a bloody handprint on the door, one too small to be one of the Shadows’.

“I think she managed to get out.” He says, staring at the handprint. His stomach drops, his hand tightening around his rifle. He glances down at the bodies, throats cut and faces bloody. “I think her omega took over.”

“You and Soap go after her. She’ll do the one thing she knows to do, the one instinctual thing she can do if she has nothing to fight.” Price says. “We’ve got Graves cornered.”

Simon pushes the door open, cool air flowing into the stuffy room. There’s bloody shoe prints heading down the stairs. He can see the rapid turn on the concrete below before they head off towards the trees.

“I’ve got a trail.” He says.

“Go.” Price says. “Simon...you know what you have to do.”

He does.

He motions for Johnny to follow before hurrying down the stairs. The longer they delay, the further you’ll get. He doesn’t doubt some Shadows followed you if you made that much of a ruckus. The more time they waste, the more dangerous things get, and not just because they might lose you or the shadows might catch up.

He races towards the treeline, rifle in hand, but there’s no one else standing guard. Price and Gaz will have taken care of those in the other building, and those that were outside probably went after you.

He slows once they break the treeline, trying to catch any hint of your scent that might be left. His only hope is that you’ve left a trail. He’s a tracker, he knows what he’s doing. His senses are stronger, more in tune. He can find you. He can track you down. He has to.

The guilt is eating him alive. If something happens to you, he’ll never forgive himself. He’s right here, so close and yet so far. You’re running on borrowed time and there’s only so much of it left. Eventually you have to slow, eventually your body will start giving up. Will it be too late then? If a Shadow finds you when you can’t fight back...

“Dead Shadow ahead.” Johnny says, motioning to the slumped over body ahead of them. “We’re on the trail.”

“Let’s hope she left more markers on the way.” He says, kicking the Shadow, but the stab wound in his neck is all Simon needs to know. “Keep going straight.” He says, continuing on the path they’ve been following. He needs just a whiff, a hint of your scent. Something.

They come across another dead Shadow, this one off to the side of the path they had been following. He turns, making an adjustment before moving forward. Johnny keeps close, both of them watching for more Shadows, or for any glimpse of you. All they can hope is they’re on the right path.

He nearly sets off in a run as he hears a sound ahead. It’s a yowl, almost like a mountain lion. It sends a tingle down his back, his alpha blaring warning alarms. A threatened omega is a dangerous thing. Fierce and protective of themselves, capable of great feats and lethal if you get too close.

It’s you, no doubt.

Price had been right.

He has no choice.

He pushes forward, his steps quick as he makes his way through the bushes. He spots you near a boulder, trying to fight off a Shadow. He’s got the upper hand, using his size against you. You’re getting tired, your movements slowing. Simon aims with his rifle, a shot to the head dropping the Shadow. You drop into a crouch, surveying the trees. You’re covered in blood, a knife in your hand as your wild eyes search for them.

“Distract her.” He says to Johnny. “Make yourself as unthreatening as possible. I’ll go around and get her from behind.”

He doesn’t even wait for an acknowledgement before he’s moving, slipping around to the side of the boulder. Johnny steps into the clearing slowly, holding his hands up, talking to you quietly.

“Easy, kitten. Ye know who I am.” Johnny is careful not to get too close, his steps slow as he moves to the side, getting you to turn. “We’re just here to help ye. Get ye home and safe.”

You’re holding the knife up, brandishing it at Johnny. Simon isn’t sure if you’ve ever thrown a knife before, but he doesn’t put it past you to try in this state.

He hopes Johnny’s reflexes are fast enough.

He slips out from behind the boulder as you pause, wasting no time as he races up behind you and grabbing you before you can bolt or go for Johnny’s neck. You let out another yowl, struggling against him as he wraps an arm around your chest. Your teeth sink into his arm and he lets out a curse, but he doesn’t let go. If he lets go, they won’t get another chance. It’ll be too late.

He doesn't want to do it. His mind flashes back to his father and mother, one of the few times his mother fought back. It hadn’t lasted long before her body went limp, practically a ragdoll in his father’s hold. Simon had grabbed Tommy and ran, barricading them in his room. They didn’t want to see what was going to happen next.

He doesn’t want that kind of control over you, he doesn’t want to put you through that trauma. The disorientation, the fear, the confusion. That must have been what it felt like after being sedated during your heat. You had been sick for days, crying in Johnny’s room. He had heard every sob, every attempt to soothe you.

He put you through that. He made you face that despite the fear on your face as Johnny escorted you to the med center.

And now he has to do it again.

He has to this time. He has no choice. His only other option is to let you die. Price will never forgive him. Johnny won’t even look at him again. He’d betray them worse than you did, worse than Shepherd, worse than Graves.

You never really betrayed them in the first place, though.

You were afraid, untrusting of them, unsure because of your past. He had been foolish to blame you, foolish to think it was somehow your fault. You acted out of fear, out of terror. How you must have felt in those moments when that beta showed up, when you faced down Shepherd alone, when you returned to find your space invaded and those cameras all over your room. They weren’t there to protect you, they weren’t there to support you. They left you alone and you hid it from them because you didn’t know any better, because you were so afraid.

He’s a goddamn fucking prick he’s been.

Tears blur his vision as he tucks his free arm behind you, shifting your position just enough so he can get his hand around the back of your neck. You kick out with your legs, releasing his arm, your head tilting back in a last ditch, instinctual effort to protect yourself.

His eyes squeeze closed as you let out a yelp, his fingers digging into the back of your neck. It’s hard enough it will leave a bruise, but he has to be sure. It’s the only thing that might save you. It’s his only option, his only chance to keep you alive.

“There you go.” He says quietly into your ear. “Need you to relax for me.”

Your body goes limp in his hold, head resting back against his hand as he holds you there. Your muscles twitch as the tension leaves you, eyelids fluttering before they close. His arm stings where your teeth had sunk into his skin, hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t care.

“Keep resting.” He says, easing his hand from the back of your neck as he shifts you in his arms. “Gonna get you somewhere safe.”

You’re like a ragdoll in his arms as he lifts you up, cradling you against his chest. You’re warm, hair sticking to your forehead.

“Call it in.” He tells Johnny, his eyes still glued to your face. “We need that medevac now.”

“Price, we got her.” Johnny says into his comm. “We need medevac stat.”

You look so peaceful despite the blood soaking your body. Partially yours, partially the Shadows you killed in your escape. You look like a gruesome painting, a gorey depiction of an omega pushed too far. Something they’d put on display in a museum, a photo that would win prizes in celebration of such a natural state caught on camera. It would be circulated for decades, something talked about centuries from now.

A raw view of humanity’s inner beasts.

He can’t stand it, seeing you like this. They did this to you. They are the reason you’re like this. They made the bad call in the end, they put you through this. You won’t forgive them, not after everything. You went weeks without them, without a word and then this happened. Innocence tainted in the blood of the guilty. The bloodstained omega held in the arms of the blood-tainted alpha. He should be the one covered in their blood. He should be the one carrying the weight of torture and desperation on his shoulders.

The guardian dog covered in blood in the name of protecting his innocent sheep.

How he’s failed you. How they all failed you.

He pushes past the pain, past the grief, past the guilt and the horror of what they did to you, what they put you through.

They’ve got you back. You’re safe.

It’s over.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #John price x reader #captain price x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Ghost x reader #Kyle Garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #John mactavish x reader #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse

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novelistwriter · 1 month ago

Text

The Ghost Kid of Gotham

DP x DC Prompt

When Danny told his parents about him being Phantom, he was strapped down to a table and cut open by them. By the time he was saved it was too late, he became a Full Ghost, with it changing because he died a second time, tears constantly flow from his eyes, chains are around his wrists and ankles, leather straps are around his torso, and his logo is no longer seen, just a ripped off part of his hazmat that shows the scar left behind by being cut open.

He doesn't remember much after being saved, just that he had destroyed a lot of things in his grief, Vlad was the one to tell him, and the Fruitloop was in a bad condition when the Halfa came to him. He's the Ghost King, but the council still runs the Infinite Realms, he's just a figure head with a lot of Power and Influence used, all because he doesn't have his human half anymore, he can't make the Infinite Realms better without it, Clockwork told him that with a sadness in his voice.

One thing that Danny can do to make things better is his new power to remove curses by being close to the affected person/object/location, so Clockwork sent Danny to Gotham just as Batman was starting his career as a Vigilante.

Gotham had been cursed a lot in the past, that's why the city is the way it is, Lady Gotham couldn't undo them all herself, so she asked Clockwork, her old friend, for help, he sent Danny, still known as Phantom.

Phantom and Batman first met when Batman had gotten word of a mysterious entity nearby doing something shady, this was Phantom in the middle of removing a curse.

Batman did his usual 'interrogation' tactics, but he was stunned to see a young boy with tears falling from his face, chains on his wrists and ankles, leather straps on his torso and a part of his outfit with a tear in it, showing a autopsy scar.

Phantom had told him what he was doing, and what he is, the Ghost of a Child. This led to Batman seeing if he could help the Ghost move on, all he was told was "I can't move on, she needs help", when asked who 'she' was, all Phantom said was "Gotham" before disappearing.

What Batman didn't know was that he wasn't the only one who was near Phantom, other citizens of Gotham heard what Phantom said to Batman, they believed that Phantom was the Ghost of a Gothamite child who lingers to help the city, they spread the word about what they heard that night.

Over time, Phantom has interacted with many of the big names in Gotham as they appeared, Joker reminds him of Freakshow, but Phantom doesn't attack him, just seeing if playing Jokers games would get the Joker to rethink his ways, thinking Joker is cursed. Before Harleen became Harley, Phantom sought out the Psychiatrist to remember his sister, having told the woman that she sounds like his sister when she helps people. Before Pamela became Ivy, Phantom sought her out to remember his best friend who loved plants. When Croc began to show himself, Phantom seeks him out to talk to him, one of their talks is overhead by citizens, after that talk overheard by the citizens, they try and treat Waylon better. When Scarecrow emerged, Phantom isn't affected by the Fear Gas, but lingers near Crane to remember Fright Knight. Bane almost reminds Phantom of his father, Phantom had cowered during Banes first attack on Gotham with the him nearby, but what Phantom said will stick with the Gothamites and Bad Guys forever.

"Please Dad! Don't hurt me again! Don't put me back on that table!"

After Phantom had said that, the Ghost had run away, leaving Bane, his crew, and many citizens shocked by what Phantom revealed about himself, a child, who was most likely harmed and killed by his own father.

There are others Phantom interacts with. Riddler reminds Phantom of Clockwork, and Phantom both likes and despises Riddler because of that. Grundy is Phantoms regular, as Phantom is drawn to the Zombie because they are the same, undead beings that still linger. Phantom even tries to help the Talons that he runs into, saying that the "Baby Ghosts need to be cleaned of the rotten Ectoplasm in them to be healthy". Leslie reminds Phantom of Frostbite.

When each Robin takes flight, Gotham goes through a positive change in appearance, during Dicks time, it rained less, during Jason's time, there was less Smog in the sky, showing more of the sky during days and nights, when Tim was Robin, Gotham had cleaner air and clearer skies, by the time Damian became Robin, Gotham is as healthy as it could be without the curses affecting it.

Phantom seeks out reporters, running into Vicki Vale during one of her live reports on a attack, he goes up to her, knowing that Gotham's citizens will be watching this broadcast. What Phantom doesn't know, is that both Gotham and its people have grown attached to the Ghost Boy.

"Gotham is healthy, she doesn't need me to help her anymore, it's time for me to go"

#dp x dc #dpxdc #danny phantom #dcu #batman

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tojirights · 11 months ago

Note

I'm sure we've all the "Alastor in a rut" fics but can I mix it up a little and request Alastor in a rut and so needy he's willing to give reader control?

a/n: omg baby's first rut, spawned by his attraction to you and he doesn't know how to get it to stop so he asks for help? :'))) i am def a subby person but every now and then i can write our mens being the needy ones 🩷

tags: 18+ smut, nsfw, unprotected sex, alastor cums a lot

you had an unexpected knock at your door late at night after you'd already gotten into bed, and at first you ignore it. then, it happens again. you groan and throw off the blanket, about to get up when alastor appears from the shadows next to your feet.

you go to scream, not even able to comprehend who or what is grabbing you in the darkness, but there's a hand covering your mouth before you can do so. there's also something... stiff hitting your back. you calm when you recognize the hand and you take a deep breath when he removes it. "what the hell alastor?" you whisper-yell, spinning around to face him. you barely recognize the demon standing in front of you.

he's disheveled, shuddering, and looks completely exhausted. he's in what you assume he sleeps in, which is an interesting looking robe. "al?" you frown, reaching out to touch him but he grabs your wrist before you can. "please, darling... for your own good, be careful with your next move..." even his voice is shaky. your eyes finally catch his, and you gasp when you see the deep, dark desire seeping through them.

“i need… need you.” he speaks, still breathless and you’re sure you’ve never heard something so sexy. your eyes widen, taking in the fact that alastor's cock is what was poking you when he grabbed you. alastor has barely said anything other than a quick casual sexual remark in your direction the entire time you've been here at the hotel, and now he's asking for your help.

"o-oh um... yes! i mean-" you speak way too fast, embarrassing yourself with how fast you're interested in 'helping' alastor. before you can say anything else, alastor's lips meet yours and you're instantly melting against him. he steps backwards until he's falling flat onto the bed, tugging you on top of him. your hips straddle his, and the friction against his cock has him arching into you. you swear he whines when you grind your hips, that you can feel his cock pulsing under the small layer of clothing.

you've heard of demons going into a rut, but you've never seen alastor acting quite like this. his hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his ears stand more alert. he physically looks... needy. and his breathy pants beneath you only spark your desire to help. you decide to push your luck just a little bit and interlock your fingers with his before pushing them above his head and holding them there while you rub against him.

alastor looks mad at first, that you dare try to pin him down, but the second he feels the sweet drag of your cunt over his barely clothed cock, he almost cums. "please." you're not sure alastor's ever begged for... anything before, but his pleas make your core pulse, heat pooling between your legs. "mmm, please what?" you smirk, watching frustration bubble up in his eyes. "please- i just... i need to be inside of you." he sighs, not putting up as much fuss as you thought.

you hold back a moan of your own, wanting to maintain some semblance of control over alastor, since you're sure this won't happen again. "ah~ good boy." you coo, again watching as something flashes in his eyes that's a mixture of anger and lust. "need you, darling." he pleads, grinding his aching erection against you. biting your lip, you tug off your shirt and wiggle your hips enough to slide down your sleep shorts. "make me cum." he gasps, giving into every carnal desire flooding his system.

as soon as the head of his cock presses against your pussy, he's trying to push you to take it all. "ah ah..." you warn, once more reaching to pin his hands above his head. "i will make you cum. don't move." your tone is strict, and alastor hates how much it makes his cock throb. he'll get you back for this brazen attitude at a later date...

for now, all he can think about is emptying every last drop of his seed deep within your sweet, wet cunt. after an agonizingly slow descent, you find yourself fully sat on his cock. alastor's eyes are shut, his chest heaving as every breath he's holding back the urge to cum. "hey al..." you whisper, leaning down so your nose touches his. alastor swallows, his hips wiggling ever so slightly. "y-yes darling?" he shudders, feeling every inch of your pussy squeezing around his leaking cock.

"cum as many times as you need..." the hitch in his breath is so audible, and all the tension in his body snaps like a twig. "you-" he gasps, legs spasming as he tries not to lose it just yet. "-don't know what you're getting yourself into." it's a warning, and you know that, but your cunt clenches at the idea of spending the rest of the night like this. "use me." you murmur, watching as alastor's eyes roll into the back of his head.

the groan that follows is primal, and you give in to his thrusts from below you. the force pushes you forward, your chest flat against his, every thrust upwards pushes more and more of his seed so deep inside of you. and even with his cock nuzzled deep against your cervix, the amount of cum seeps down his cock and covers your inner thighs.

you expect alastor to look worn out, but he looks even hungrier now. wasting little time, alastor flips the two of you so you're now under him. "now then..." he begins, his head slightly clearer now and he's not going to tolerate your behavior from earlier. "i think i like you beneath me a whole lot better, dear." you bite your lip and smile, mischief forming in your eyes. "i like this too."

the look in alastor's eyes tells you that you won't be getting any more sleep tonight.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel imagines #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin alastor smut #hazbin hotel alastor smut #alastor x reader imagines #hazbin hotel alastor x you #alastor hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut

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ohbueckers · 11 days ago

Text

THROUGH THE WALLS. paige bueckers

description. teammates who’ve never gotten along. but when you’re stuck sharing a dorm with paige bueckers—and she brings someone new home every night—it’s hard not to feel like the walls are closing in. tired of playing nice, you decide to get under her skin… in more ways than one.

includes. SMUT & about five scenes of plot building up to it (sorry, they’re not too long). player paige! scissoring, fingering, edging, etc… i’m not even sure anymore lol.

a/n. first one shot since finishing hoaw and i got carried away… (there’s a drought)? also new theme that took me forever to love, and a new writing style because all the lowercase was beginning to pmo.

It starts as it always does.

A different night, a different girl. You couldn’t count on one hand the amount of times you let someone filter through and wanted to tell them they weren’t the only one. You’d think during the season Paige’s amount of one-night stands would decrease… and well, you’d be wrong.

It’s been this way since your transfer. You’ve gotten along just fine with the rest of the team, even clicking quickly with some of them, including one of her best friends, Azzi. But Paige? Paige has been a different story entirely. It was like something about you set her off, though she never outright said it. She didn’t need to. You could feel it.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That her opinion of you was inconsequential, that you could live perfectly fine without her approval. But the truth was, it gnawed at you. Paige Bueckers wasn’t exactly a hard person to get along with—at least, not from what you’d seen with the others. She was charismatic, charming even. A natural leader.

She gave you nothing at all. You weren’t sure what you’d done to warrant it. Maybe it was something you said during your first practice, or maybe it was just who you were. Whatever the reason, Paige made it clear you weren’t worth her time.

You sat up in your bed, cross-legged under the covers as you flipped through the pages of a book you barely had the time to read anymore. From practices, games, away games, classes you had to take in order to finish your masters degree, the only time you had reserved for yourself—and well, the noises of Paige and her newest toy, were these late nights, alone in your bedroom.

You shuffled, turning to your side as you propped yourself up on your elbow. Your TV wasn’t doing much to hide the fact that Paige seemed to flaunt it, like she knew you were there, in the room just next door, forced to listen to it all.

Then, the door to Paige’s room creaked open. You didn’t have to look up to know it was her, that familiar sound of the latch turning, the soft shuffle of feet as she slipped out with Ms. Girl-Of-The-Week in tow. You kept your eyes trained on the page, trying to lose yourself in the book, but the sounds grew louder.

Muffled laughter that was too loud to not be intentional, and the subtle scruff of sneakers, or maybe slippers that indicated she was probably about to leave. Your fingers froze mid-turn when they stopped right outside your door.

Paige’s voice was unmistakable. Her gruff Minnesota accent that was too close for comfort. You narrowed your eyes toward your locked door. You could almost hear the smirk in her tone as she murmured something, followed by a soft, breathy kiss—almost like they hadn’t been doing just that the entirety of the night. “Are you serious?” you mumbled to yourself.

The sound of lips meeting lingered, and you felt an inexplicable heat rise in your chest—part frustration, part something else you couldn’t quite place.

It didn’t last long. Their footsteps retreated to the front door, and you were left behind in silence. Finally, right?

You forced yourself to go back to the book, but the words didn’t make sense anymore.

“Yo, Nik! Bet you can’t make this shot with your eyes closed!”

“She can barely make it with her eyes open.”

The taunt came from Aaliyah, who was lounging on the bleachers with her sneakers propped up on the rail. Nika immediately took it as a challenge, and you immediately took it as a sign to get out of there before she made everyone stick around until she made it. Post practice was always your favorite. Some of the team had already dispersed to the locker room showers, claiming that the gym was too hot and humid to linger around any longer, and well, you couldn’t blame them. Your shirt was sticking to your back, sweat making every movement feel like a little more effort than it should.

“Don’t miss,” Azzi called out from next to you.

“We’re gonna be here all day,” you muttered, dodging a hit from a jaw-gaped Azzi who fully believes Nika is capable. You giggle, moving to the far end of the bleachers where you’d placed your stuff at the start of practice, grabbing a sweat towel and wiping your forehead.

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Paige. She was off the court now, towel draped around her neck, eyes scanning the gym. It didn’t take long for her to lock onto something—or rather, someone.

Her latest fling, you’re sure. She waltzed into the gym, holding a neatly folded item of clothing you’re sure is a pathetic excuse to be here right now. She’s pretty, you’ll admit. Her braids are pulled into a style that frames her face perfectly, and her jeans hug her figure like they were tailored just for her. There wasn’t anything bad you could say about her, but every fiber of your being wanted to find something. A flaw, maybe. Her blush blended too high up on her cheeks, her jacket too fluffy to be flattering.

You figured you were just as pathetic.

You tore your eyes away as Paige greeted her, pulling her in close, thanking her for returning something she definitely didn’t need—at least not now. You looked back just in time to miss all the casual flirtation, but to catch the way Paige’s body shifted ever so slightly as the girl leaned in to kiss her on the mouth, lips landing on her cheek.

You froze.

Paige’s eyes darted away from her lips, pulling back just enough to avoid the kiss. It was subtle for anyone but you, calculated, and as clear as day. It wasn’t an accident. It wasn’t a misstep. She had actively dodged it.

Your pulse quickened, your breath catching in your throat. You wanted to look away, to pretend it didn’t bother you, but you couldn’t. Your eyes stayed locked on them as Paige smiled awkwardly, forcing her attention to the rest of the gym while the girl turned to walk out.

And just like that, it hit you: Paige was playing a game.

The kiss she’d given so easily last night was suddenly too much for her to do in front of you.

It had become a habit now, even though you hated yourself for it.

The faint giggles filtering through the door stopped you in your tracks as you walked past Paige’s room that night. Another one. That was obvious. You couldn’t place her laugh, though—higher-pitched than the last girl’s, breathier, maybe. Your feet hesitated, the rational part of your brain screaming at you to keep walking, but you didn’t listen. Instead, you found yourself leaning closer, pressing your ear to the wood.

You told yourself it was because you wanted to confirm just how much of a nuisance Paige was being this time. Not because you were curious, not because your stomach churned at the thought of what was happening behind that door.

Muffled voices floated through. Then came Paige’s husk of a laugh, accompanied by a whispered, “You really gon’ make me work for it, huh?”

You clenched your jaw, heat prickling up your neck. It wasn’t like you didn’t know this was Paige’s routine—find someone, bring them back, make it loud enough that you couldn’t not hear it—but something about hearing her voice in such a vulnerable state, made something twist uncomfortably in your chest.

You didn’t stay long. As soon as the low giggles morphed into something else, you yanked yourself away, retreating back to your own room and shutting the door harder than necessary.

Still, when Paige emerged the next morning, looking annoyingly satisfied and not even bothering to throw a shirt over her sports bra, your simmering irritation boiled over.

Her blonde hair was tied back messily into a bun, strands sticking out in a way that only added to her maddening confidence. Her toned arms gleamed faintly from her post-shower routine, and her smirk was the cherry on top, like she knew exactly how much she was testing your patience.

“You ever think about being considerate for once?” you snapped as she walked past your leaning figure against the kitchen counter, staring daggers at her.

Paige faced away from you, opening the fridge lazily as she searched it. “Jealous?’”

You scoffed, tilting your head. “Hardly.”

Paige turned around, a half-empty bottle of orange juice in her hand, smirk spreading as she kicked back against the fridge. “Hardly,” she repeated, giving you a once-over.

“What?” You clenched your jaw, watching as she tipped the liquid back slowly. “You could at least pretend to feel bad about being the most obnoxious roommate ever.”

“Obnoxious?” she repeated again, and you were getting real sick of it. Paige raised an eyebrow, lowering the bottle and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You really that mad about it? Or is there somethin’ else goin’ on?”

Got me there, you thought. You squinted instead. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late,” she quipped, her grin widening as she kicked off the fridge and took a slow step toward you, the bottle dangling from her hand. “You’re funny when you’re mad, y’know that?” she said, voice low and teasing. “Almost cute.”

You pretended to not be moved by her comment. Paige had never been remotely flirty with you. You were even sure she waited for you to leave the kitchen before making her move in the mornings just so you didn’t have to cross paths sometimes. You crossed your arms. “Almost cute is what you call those girls you sneak in here, right?”

Her smirk didn’t falter. “Well, it’s not really sneakin’ if you know about it.”

You narrowed your eyes, her own blue hues almost pinning you in place. She wasn’t just looking at you—she was studying you, daring you to react. The air suddenly felt thicker. It had definitely shifted, enough for you both to realize but not enough for either of you to move, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away.

But then you did, tearing your eyes from hers and taking a step forward, shoving lightly at her chest. “The bottle’s yours now, by the way,” you mumbled, rounding the island.

Paige barely budged—and neither did her smirk as she spun her body around just to see you leave. “Good thing I was finna finish it!” she called out for the last word.

By the third night, you’d had enough. The muffled sounds of Paige’s latest conquest had become a recurring soundtrack to your evenings, grating on your nerves until you could barely stand to be in your own space. It wasn’t just the noise—it was the principle of it, the blatant disregard for you, the unspoken challenge in the way she paraded each new girl in and out of your shared apartment.

You weren’t sure what her problem was, but if she thought she could push you out, she was wrong.

So tonight, you decided to flip the script.

You heard the front door open, the familiar sound of keys jingling as Paige stepped inside. She hadn’t even known you’d invited anyone over until she’d stepped into the apartment, tossing her bag down by the door and catching the low chatter of conversation. She froze for half a second. You didn’t bother greeting her. Riley, glancing between the two of you excepting some form of conversation, gave Paige a quick nod of acknowledgment before returning her eyes to you.

The fuck was that? Who the fuck is that? Paige thought.

Riley was good. Riley was great. Riley was undoubtedly a pawn. You’d met her at a mutual friend’s party a few weeks back when you’d drunkenly rambled about how you didn’t do relationships during the season because of your schedule, and while you hadn’t exactly planned on inviting her over, tonight seemed like the perfect night to make a point.

You weren’t doing anything wrong, but the thrill of it still made your stomach flip. Maybe it was the way Riley’s knee brushed yours when she shifted closer, but that couldn’t be right. Or maybe it was the fact that, for once, you were the one in control, and Paige would have to sit with that.

Paige peered over the couch until she could see you. Your legs tucked under you, so casually perfect it made her stomach twist.

You didn’t matter. Not like that.

That’s what she repeated in her head now as she moved further into the apartment, forcing herself into the kitchen instead of retreating straight to her room. She could still hear bits of your conversation. The girl’s voice was deep, smooth, like she knew exactly how to charm you. Paige hated her on principle.

You said something then, your voice dropping into a softer tone that the blonde hadn’t heard in a while—not since that first week you moved in, back when you still tried to be her friend.

She clenched her jaw, biting back the urge to interrupt. Instead, she opened the fridge, pulling out a random bottle of water just to have something to do with her hands. It’s none of your business, Paige told herself, cracking the bottle open. But her mind refused to let it go.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen you around other girls before. You were attractive—it wasn’t surprising. But this felt different. This was intentional, intimate.

And Paige hated it.

She walked out of the kitchen without thinking, legs moving until her body was pressed against the back of the couch. “Didn’t know we were hosting tonight,” she announced, her voice deceptively light as she stood tall, taking a sip of her water like this was normal, like she wasn’t purposefully intruding.

You glanced up, catching sight of her, and something flickered across your face—annoyance, maybe. She ignored it.

Your guest glanced at her too, clearly thrown off by her sudden presence. “Uh, hey,” she said, offering a polite smile.

“It’s not your dorm,” you reminded, completely ignoring Riley’s attempt at a well mannered exchange, your tone just as breezy.

Paige smiled. She fucking smiled and you wanted to wipe it off her stupidly perfect face. “Yeah, but you know how I feel ‘bout strangers. Y’all good in here?”

“Fine,” you responded.

“Nice,” she said, dragging the word out in a way that made your skin crawl. “Hope I’m not interrupting nothing.”

“You’re not,” you said quickly.

“Cool,” Paige said, pushing off the couch with another version of that smile that was so evidently fake. “Don’t mind me.”

She walked past the two of you, heading toward her room, but not before throwing one last glance over her shoulder.

Riley had left with nothing more than a kiss on the cheek. You told her you didn’t know Paige would be home tonight, offering a quick apology. She seemed to buy it, flashing you a smile before slipping out of the door and into the hall. As the door clicked shut behind her, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Paige’s eyes burning into your back, though you’d pretended to ignore her presence the entire time.

But as soon as Riley was out of sight, it was like a switch flipped. You were done pretending. Done letting Paige walk all over you in your own apartment. Done losing sleep over it.

Without knocking, you walked straight into her room. Her back was facing you, and she hadn’t even moved when you waltzed in, lounging on her bed, scrolling through her phone, as if you hadn’t just spent the last hour biting your tongue and pretending to not be frustrated.

“Can we talk?” you asked, standing close to the doorframe with your arms crossed. The fury in your voice wasn’t hard to catch, and it wasn’t exactly a question. You were going to talk.

Paige glanced over shoulder—amused—clicking her phone off. You tried not to stare at the tone of her back, the buff of her arms… you had other things to worry about. “You’re mad,” she stated matter-of-factly, huffing as she fixed herself at the edge of her bed.

“You think?” you snapped, pushing away from the doorframe and advancing into the room, beginning to pace. “Do you even think about anyone else for five seconds? Or is this whole apartment just your playground?”

Her head tilted, blonde hair falling across her face as she looked thoroughly unimpressed to say the least. “What’re you talkin’ about now?” she drawled, and you rolled your eyes back to the gates of hell.

“You’re really gonna sit there and act clueless? You drove her away, Paige.”

“So?”

“So?” you repeated, incredulous. “You don’t see the problem with that?”

Paige shrugged, her hands clasped together in her lap. “If she left that easy, maybe she wasn’t worth your time.”

You stopped pacing, turning to face her fully. “What’s your problem with me having someone over? You’ve had your share of… company.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her smirk faltering for the first time. “That’s different.”

“How?” you pressed, taking a step closer.

Her jaw tightened, and she suddenly couldn’t look at you. “Just is.”

“For once, I wasn’t here listening to your—” You broke off, gesturing vaguely but pointedly toward her bed. “But you still had to make it about you.”

Paige stretched, and you forced your eyes away from the taut lines of her flexed abdomen. She smirked like she knew you’d looked anyway. “Aight, can we not … argue?”

You squinted. “We’re not arguing.”

Paige snorted, clearly unconvinced, as she pushed herself off the bed and stood. “Just go, bro,” she muttered, dismissing you with a wave of her hand as she moved past you toward the door.

You didn’t move, way too stubborn for your own good. “I’m not leaving until you answer my question.”

Paige paused, and there was a shift in her stance that you could read better than the expression on her face. She didn’t say anything at first, her fingers brushing lightly over her jaw, the movement so preconceived, almost like she was trying to distract herself from whatever had been building between the two of you. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

You didn’t steer away from her, in fact, you leaned into it. It was ridiculous how easy she could shut you up.

“Oh.”

You let the word sit in the air, almost a whisper, barely a sound, but it hit both of you in the gut.

The realization was slow, but clear. You didn’t need her to spell it out. She couldn’t just fuck and forget with you, not like she did with the others. This was something different, something that scared her—something that scared you, too.

Oh.

You stared into her blue irises, and suddenly the few inches she had on you was more evident than it had ever been before. Your cheeks were slightly smushed between the largeness of her hand, and you could almost hear her heart beating in her chest.

You’re close. Too close.

“Yeah,” she finally muttered. “That’s what I thought.” With that, she shoved you away, rough enough to make you feel it.

You didn’t know what to say, so you’d stupidly responded with a two letter word that Paige thought she understood, thought she knew the meaning behind. You didn’t know what to say, so you put your lips to better use.

You moved before she could stop you, your mouth crashing against hers, urgent, desperate, full of everything you’d been fighting. There was nothing careful about it, nothing controlled. It was just instinct—a pull between you that neither of you could avoid anymore.

For a moment, Paige buffered. Her hands hovered over your hips as your lips moved in perfect sync. You could feel her hesitation, debating whether to push you away or pull you closer.

You leaned more into her, pressing your body against hers, and with a subtle shift, you guided one of her hands into your side, urging her to touch you, and it was all the confirmation she needed that this was real.

It was sloppy in all the right ways, hands roaming everywhere between fabric that got in the way of warm skin. Paige groaned softly against your mouth, holding you up by the small of your back as she pushed the door shut, the soft thud of it almost drowned out by the sound of your breathing.

She backs you onto her bed until you’ve fallen, giving your lips a break for the first time within your haze. You’re hastily removing your shirt as she climbs over you.

“Shit. Are we gonna regret this?” you question fully breathless, letting your tee slide off your arms. Your legs parted instinctively, and she fit herself between them, leaning down to get a taste of you.

“You think ima’ regret fuckin’ you?” she asks straightforwardly, so muffled against your neck that she’s nipping and sucking at you almost don’t hear it. You screw your eyes shut, trailing a manicured hand down her abs, fingers brushing the ridges of her muscles. “No, I—didn’t mean it like that—“

“Aight, then,” she cuts, fully disbanding the conversation while licking over a fresh hickey. She pushes you onto your side, tugging your shorts down in nearly the same movement. You have no time to protest, and you don’t exactly want to either. Paige drags two of her fingers over your clothed cunt, parting her lips to let out a breath in admiration. “I got you this wet?” she whispers.

“All you.”

She pushes your panties to the side, sliding a finger between your wet folds. You whimper, shifting to spread wide open for her, but she holds you firmly folded in place by your waist. “Like you just like this. Say it again for me?”

Her finger drags through increasingly slow—up and down—like a petty reminder she’s in control. “All you, Paige. Only you. Only ever you,” you admit in a hurried ramble, yelping as she slips two digits into you.

“Only ever me, huh? Y’sure you not just sayin’ that?” she teases, tugging her lip between her teeth as she watches her fingers disappear. Your head lolls to the side, your breath coming short, hardly able to muster up a response for her.

Her opposite hand makes its way to your face, bringing you right back, and she uses her thumb to trail down and over your bottom lip, your saliva dragging across your chin so filthily you have to remind yourself she’s a pro at this. You can’t stand to think about the other girls. “Paige—mfmm—fuck,” you let out, the squelching enough to make you feel her deeper.

You swallow as she gazes down at you, her mouth finding yours in another heated kiss as she works you up. She sloppily trails over to your neck again, distracting you with a bite that she quickly soothes with her tongue. “You’re s’good,” you praise, fingers knitting through her hair that falls in waves over her shoulders.

Your hands find her abdomen again, a place you’ve grown obsessed with after seeing in her in about a hundred variations of a sports bra. It’s like she knew it drove you mad. Paige smirked, dragging your hand a little lower. “I’ll let you ride ‘em if you’re good.”

You smile weakly, rolling your eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Paige curls her fingers up, eyes piercing into you intently like she was waiting for that reaction—the one that has your nails digging into her skin. “And you’re so full.” She pulls out and thrusts back in so easily, like her fingers were made to fit.

You’re on the brink of ecstasy, ready to fall completely undone under the girl who knows exactly how to drive you out of your mind. You’re holding onto Paige like she’s the only thing keeping you grounded. “That’s it,” she mumbles, licking her lips as she picks up the pace, her voice smug of pure satisfaction.

You gasp, barely able to form words, but she doesn’t let up, doesn’t give you a second to think. “Say it,” she demands. “Tell me who’s got you like this.”

“Paige,” you breathe, the sound of her name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

She grins, her teeth grazing your neck. “Louder. Let me hear it, baby.”

“Paige!” you moan in half frustration that she wouldn’t just let you have it—your body arching into her—and just like that, she pulls her fingers out, robbing you from your climax.

Your head snaps up. There were a million things you could’ve said, cursed, yelled. But yet your head was still buzzing, and the only two and half words that managed to spill out were a weak, “What the fu—“

She’s climbing off the bed, unperturbed as you move closer to the headboard. Before you can respond, she steps back, slipping out of her joggers and boxers in one quick motion, the fabrics hitting the floor in a careless heap. It’s so smooth—and she’s done it a hundred times before, just never with you.

She’s back on you in an instant, lips dragging over every part of your body. You’re sat up against the wall, peaking over to see yourselves in the mirror facing her bed, her body pressed tightly against yours, her hands everywhere at once. The sight knocks the air out of your lungs.

Oh.

In the reflection, you can see just about everything.

Paige’s hands slide lower, gripping your thighs with a force that leaves no room for escape—not that you’d dream of leaving. “Keep looking,” she mutters, practically reading your mind, her breath hot against your collarbone. “Y’wanna see everything, don’t you?”

“Mm, ‘course.” You shiver, her words leaving you no choice but to obey. You’re suddenly no longer upset about not getting to come, every brush of her lips and graze of her fingertips stoking the ache pooling in your stomach.

She shifts, pulling your panties down before positioning herself between your legs. For a second, she locks eyes with you, letting a line of her spit drop and mingle with the wetness of your clits so close together.

What a freak.

Paige wastes no more time, pulling you even closer. The lower halves of your bodies align, and you let out a shuttered breath as your clit nudges hers. It’s overwhelming in all the right ways. “Aw, fuck,” she groans, your wetness meeting in the middle. You drag a hand down her stomach, playing with her pussy just a little, thumb circling over the top.

“So good, P.” You’re flush against the wall, elbows shaking as you let out ragged moans, bucking your hips up to match Paige’s pace. It seems to be working for the two of you, and you don’t think you’ve felt anything so fucking good.

“Ride me so good, fuck,” Paige tips her head back, feeling lost as your nails move higher on her torso. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for a minute. Just like I imagined, baby, you know that?” she admits, and it’s enough to make you let out a sound that’s nothing short of pornographic, her name somewhere in the mix.

“Shit,” you dragged out. You drag your hips against her pussy even slower, letting your eyes flutter closed as the pleasure builds in your gut. Her hands tighten on your waist, a sharp inhale giving away the effect you have on her.

“So close, ma, d-on’t slow down,” she mutters—her words a complete run-on, but it only spurs you on.

You savor the pleasure in the midst trying to keep yourself together as every movement pulls a soft gasp from your lips. “Keep goin’ just like that,” Paige breathes, her voice barely above a whisper now, her lips brushing your temple. “Doing so fuckin’ perfect.”

Her words hit you all at once as you press even closer. “I’m s’close.” You know you’re driving her to the edge too, the way her grip on you alternates between grounding and desperate betraying her restraint.

“Right with you,” Paige breathes. You bite your lip, every nerve in your body sparking to life as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak. Your hips stutter against hers, and Paige’s head tilts back, a guttural groan spilling from her lips as she grips you tighter, like you’re the only thing tethering her to the moment.

Everything snaps. The rush of pleasure floods over you, hitting you so hard you can’t help but cry out her name, moans spilling over in a rush. Paige’s grip tightens as she comes undone, her breath hitching as her legs tense beneath you.

You think it’s the hardest you’ve ever came.

As you both ride out the aftermath, there’s not much silence between heaving chests and ragged breaths. Paige is the first to move, tangling herself up next to you.

Her fingers tracing small circles on your back, and you lean into it. You can’t help but chuckle, your breath still unsteady. “So… should I still have to worry about hearing you through the walls?”

Paige looks down at you in adoration, running a hand through your hair, before her hand slips to your chin, pulling you in for a brief kiss.

“Nah, no more of that.”

#xoxo ohbueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x fem #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #wlw fanfic #wlw fiction #wlw yearning #wnba x reader #wlw smut #paige bueckers blog #lesbian #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtqia

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traceypuppygirl · 2 months ago

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Your big sister has always been a bit of a problem. She's always staying out late for parties, getting drunk with her friends, or otherwise getting in some form of trouble. It's annoying, because when she is home she's usually hungover or home early due to some problem, meaning you rarely see her in a good mood.

One day, while you're chilling on the couch alone, your big sister comes bursting into the house unexpectedly more drunk than you've ever seen her. She stomps over to you mumbling something incoherent and roughly picks you up, tossing you onto your stomach on the couch.

Before you can speak she tears off your pants, exposing your ass and little girl cock. She spits on your ass, pressing her fingers into it. Then, when she pulls them away, you feel something hard press against your backside as she leans over you and pins you down, using her strength to keep your struggling to a minimum.

Her cock pushes inside, the minimal amount of spit she gave you helping it slide in but not stopping the pain. Her cock is huge, stretching your tight virgin hole out as she starts drunkenly slamming herself into you without warning. Your eyes shut as you wince, trying to scream, but she stuffs your face into the couch hard and keeps you from speaking.

"Shut the fuck up."

She growls into your ear before fucking you faster, her deep, gravelly voice sounding much more frightening than usual. She grabs your waist tight, leaving red marks as she fucks you hard. You try to wiggle or squirm or anything to get away, finding it hard to breathe through the couch cushion.

She pulls you up and flips you over, lifting your legs over her shoulder and raping you like a wild animal. You cry and pant, begging her to stop, but she just grabs you by the neck and grips you tight. Your hands reach up and claw at hers, trying desperately to get her off of you, but she's always been the stronger sister.

"I said, shut the FUCK UP!"

Her thrusts become erratic and her grip on your neck tighter, you feel her throbbing cock pounding your aching prostate. Only now do you notice your own cock, leaking pre and hitting against her stomach. You try to scream, but she growls in your ear like a wolf to its prey.

Just as you feel your vision fading, she releases the grip on your throat and you gasp for air, coughing and crying, shaking all over, only to chomp down hard on the fleshy part of your neck and gives one final thrust into you before unloading what seems like a month's worth of cum into your stomach. Your eyes roll back and you feel yourself cumming too, you want to scream but the best you can do is gasp and let out a long pathetic moan.

So much happened so fast, your mind hardly able to focus through all of that. You lay there, feeling the blood dripping from your neck as she pulls away. Through hazy vision you can see her panting, blood on her teeth and lips. Just before losing consciousness you hear her say,

"I'm sorry, I really needed that."

You wake up the next day tucked into bed, aching all over. You can't exactly remember what happened, but you know your big sister had something to do with it. You go through the whole day trying to remember what happened to you when, finally, you're laying in bed and it hits you.

You end up grinding your pillow until you cum that night, face bright red as the memory finally returns. You have to bring this up with your big sister tomorrow. Maybe she'll do it again..?

#trace writings #this is my first time doing this #pls be nice #r@pe fantasy #r@pe kink #r@petoy #rough cnc #trans cnc #t4t nsft #trans nsft #mtf t4t #t4t ns/fw #t4t wlw #siscon #sister x sister #1cky sister #fauxcest #fauxc3st #roughfuck

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wolvietxt · 4 months ago

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💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗀𝗎𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍!

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : argument, logan shouts at reader over something insignificant, hurt / comfort, ANGST, fluff, happy ending word count : 2.4k

logan had been on edge for weeks now. everything seemed to be going wrong, one thing after another. his mission plan was falling apart, charles was breathing down his neck, and it felt like no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t catch a break. the stress was eating at him, wearing him down little by little until it felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

you’d noticed the change in him - how he seemed quieter, more distant, his temper flaring up over the smallest things. you tried to help where you could, offering him a shoulder to lean on, giving him space when he needed it, but nothing seemed to work. logan was like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment.

today had been the worst of all. logan’s day started with a series of frustrating conversations that left him feeling like he was running in circles. every task seemed to come with a new problem, and by the time he left work, he was fuming. his hands clenched into fists as he drove home, his mind racing with everything that had gone wrong. all he wanted was to come home, find some peace, and forget about the day. but even that was too much to ask.

when he walked through the door, he immediately noticed that the kitchen was spotless - so spotless, in fact, that his papers, the ones he’d left scattered across the table, were missing. he felt a surge of irritation. you had been on a cleaning spree, trying to make the house more comfortable for him, but in doing so, you’d moved around some of his blueprints. the ones he needed. the ones he hadn’t had time to organise properly.

“where are my papers?” logan’s voice was tight as he scanned the kitchen, looking for the documents that were now nowhere to be seen.

you looked up from where you were organising the bookshelf, smiling a little at him. “oh, i moved them to the study so you’d have more space. i thought - ”

“you thought?” logan cut you off, his voice rising. “why would you move my stuff without asking me?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. “i just wanted to help. i know you’ve been stressed, and i thought having a clean space might - ”

“a clean space?” logan’s laugh was harsh, bitter. “i don’t need a clean space, i need my work to not be messed with! do you have any idea how much shit i’ve been dealing with lately? and now this - this is the last thing i need!”

he was shouting now, the frustration of the past few weeks boiling over. every little thing that had gone wrong, every setback, every sleepless night - it all came out in a torrent of anger directed at you.

“logan, i didn’t mean to make things worse…” you tried to explain, but he wasn’t listening. he was too far gone, too wrapped up in his own frustration to hear the hurt in your voice.

“you never think, do you? you just do whatever you want, and now i’m the one who has to deal with the consequences! i’m sick of this! i’m sick of everything always going wrong, and now you’re just adding to it!”

his words cut through you like a knife. you hadn’t meant to make things worse, you

were just trying to help, but the way he was yelling at you, the anger in his voice - it was too much. your chest tightened, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you tried to hold them back.

“logan, please… i’m sorry, i just wanted to make things easier for you,” you said, your voice trembling.

“easier? easier for me?” he snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “well, congratulations, because you’ve done the exact opposite! now i have to waste even more time finding everything you moved, and i’m already drowning here!”

the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold back finally spilled over. you tried to wipe them away quickly, but logan was still shouting, too caught up in his own anger to notice.

“why can’t you just leave things the way they are? why do you always have to interfere? it’s like you don’t even care how much pressure i’m under! do you even care about anything besides what you want?”

his words were like a punch to the gut, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. a sob escaped your lips, loud and broken, and it stopped logan in his tracks. the sound cut through his anger like a knife, and suddenly, the room was silent.

he stared at you, his chest heaving as he tried to process what was happening. you were crying - no, you were sobbing, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. all the anger, all the frustration that had been driving him just moments ago, drained away, leaving him feeling hollow and ashamed.

“y/n…” he started, his voice shaky now, all the sharp edges gone. “shit, i didn’t mean…”

but you couldn’t stop crying, the weight of his words crashing down on you all at once. you hadn’t realised just how much stress he’d been under, how deeply it had been affecting him, and now it felt like you’d only made everything worse.

logan stepped closer, his hands reaching out, but he hesitated. he didn’t know how to fix this - how to take back the things he’d said, the hurt he’d caused. “hey, hey… please don’t cry. i’m sorry, i didn’t… i didn’t mean any of that.”

his hands were trembling as he finally pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. he could feel your sobs wracking your body, and it broke something inside him. how could he have been so blind? so stupid?

“i’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “i’m an idiot, and i let all this shit get to me, and i took it out on you. you didn’t deserve any of that.”

you clung to him, your fingers digging into his shirt as you tried to calm down. his arms were strong around you, holding you like you were the only thing anchoring him to reality. and maybe, in that moment, you were.

logan pressed his lips to the top of your head, murmuring apologies over and over, his voice thick with regret. “i’m sorry… i’m so fucking sorry… please, y/n, don’t cry. i hate seeing you like this.”

you wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you understood, but the words were stuck in your throat. instead, you just held onto him, letting him hold you, letting his presence calm the storm inside you.

it took a while for your sobs to finally subside, and when they did, you felt exhausted, like all the fight had been drained out of you. but logan didn’t let go - he just held you tighter, like he was afraid that if he let go, you’d slip away.

“i’ve been such a fucking mess lately,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “everything’s been going wrong, and i didn’t know how to deal with it. i’ve been pushing you away, taking it out on you, and that’s not fair. it’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to us.”

you nodded against his chest, your fingers still gripping his shirt. “i just wanted to help… i hate seeing you like this. it feels like you’re slipping away from me, and i don’t know how to bring you back.”

logan’s heart clenched at your words. he hadn’t realised how much his behaviour had been affecting you, how much you’d been carrying on your own. he felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him, and he held you even tighter.

“y’re not losing me,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. his thumb gently brushed away the tears on your cheeks, his touch soft, careful. “i promise you, you’re not losing me. i’ve just been so caught up in my own shit that i forgot what really matters.”

you searched his eyes, looking for the truth in his words, and you found it there - clear and unwavering. he was still here, still the man you loved, even if he’d lost his way for a while.

“i’m not going anywhere,” he continued, his voice steady now, a promise in every word. “we’re going to get through this. together.”

you nodded, a small, shaky smile forming on your lips. “yeah.”

logan leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “i love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with all the emotion he’d been holding back for weeks. “i love you so much. and i’m going to do better, i can fuckin’ promise you that, bub.”

you closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you, feeling the truth in them. you knew it wouldn’t be easy - logan was stubborn, and he had a lot to work through - but you also knew that he meant every word. he loved you, and that was enough.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your voice soft but steady.

logan’s lips found yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, one that spoke of apologies and promises of love and commitment. when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours again, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath. logan smiled - a real, genuine smile that you hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

the two of you stayed like that for a while longer, just holding each other, finding comfort in the closeness. the argument, the hurt, the tears - they were all still there, but they didn’t feel as overwhelming now. you both knew there was work to be done, but for the first time in weeks, it felt like you were on the same page, like you could actually do this.

when logan finally pulled away, he took your hand and led you to the couch, where the two of you sat down together. his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side, and you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest.

“tell me what’s been going on,” you said softly, wanting to understand what had been eating at him for so long. “i want to help, logan. i don’t want you to go through this alone.”

logan let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair as he tried to find the right words. “it’s just been one thing after another. work’s been a nightmare. nothing’s going right, and scott is on my case constantly. every day, it feels like i’m just… barely keeping my head above water. and then i come home, and i don’t want to burden you with all of this, but it’s just… it’s been too much.”

you listened quietly, letting him talk, letting him get it all out. you could hear the exhaustion in his voice, the frustration, the weight he’d been carrying for so long. it broke your heart to know he’d been dealing with all of this on his own, and you hadn’t even realised how bad it had gotten.

“logan,” you said softly when he finished, your voice filled with compassion. “you don’t have to carry this by yourself. i’m here, and i want to help. we’re a team, remember?”

logan nodded, his eyes closing as he rested his head back against the couch. “i know. i just… i didn’t want to unload all of this on you. i didn’t want to worry you.”

“but i was already worried,” you pointed out gently. “because i could see that something was wrong, and you weren’t talking to me about it. that’s what scared me the most - not knowing what was going on in your head.”

logan’s grip on your hand tightened, and he turned to look at you, his eyes filled with regret. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to shut you out. i just… didn’t know how to talk about it. i didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“logan, you don’t have to be perfect,” you said, your voice firm but loving. “i love you for who you are, flaws and all. and if you’re struggling, i want to know. i want to be there for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”

logan’s expression softened, and he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. “i don’t deserve you,” he murmured against your skin. “but i’m so fucking grateful that you’re here.”

you smiled, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. “you deserve all the love in the world, logan. and i’m not going anywhere. we’ll figure this out, one step at a time.”

logan nodded, his heart swelling with emotion. he knew he was lucky to have you, and he was determined to do better - to be better. for you, and for himself.

the two of you spent the rest of the evening talking, really talking, about everything that had been weighing on logan’s mind. it wasn’t easy, but it was necessary, and by the end of the night, you both felt a sense of relief that had been missing for far too long.

logan knew he still had a lot to work through, but he also knew that he wasn’t alone. you were by his side, ready to face whatever challenges came your way. and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could finally breathe again.

as you both drifted off to sleep that night, wrapped up in each other’s arms, logan made a silent promise to himself: he would never take you for granted again. you were his rock, his safe haven, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure you knew just how much you meant to him.

because at the end of the day, no matter how tough things got, you were the one thing in his life that he couldn’t afford to lose. and he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, now and always.

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ssa-dado · 12 days ago

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I could totally see Aaron being jealous. Maybe a oneshot of her meeting Sean Hotchner for the first time.

Covering Up - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluff Summary: You’re late, and while Gideon’s passive-aggressive remarks are expected, it’s Hotch who really has you on edge. But it’s not just his authority; it’s the way you inadvertently caught the attention of Hotch’s brother, Sean. Warnings: None, just wanted to clarify the story is set around late 1998 or early 1999, before Hotch became Unit Chief (Gideon was in charge instead). Word Count: 3k Dado's Corner: You didn't see this coming, did you? Something cute to celebrate the end of the year. Sorry it took so much to respond, I totally forgot about this ask... hope you like itttttt. Again, HOTCH IN LOOOOOOOVE but doesn't want to admit hahaha what a fool.

masterlist

You were late today. Remarkably late.

For the first time ever in your life.

And while the idea of Gideon giving you one of his passive-aggressive “I’m not mad, just disappointed” speeches wasn’t exactly fun, there was one person who truly terrified you in this situation.

Hotch.

How ironic: it wasn’t your boss you were afraid of - it was your fussy coworker. The same coworker whose desk, unfortunately, happened to sit right in front of yours.

Perfect.

You were still trying to salvage your dignity in the elevator, jabbing at the elevator button, fumbling with your hair as the doors closed. Maybe an updo would make you look less… late. But by the time you reached your floor, the mess you’d made felt more “distressed damsel” than “competent federal agent.”

So, naturally, you made the split-second decision to undo the whole thing, pulling your hair loose halfway to your desk.

You winced.

Not because anyone was watching - everyone seemed too absorbed in their own work - but because if someone had been looking, you’d have perfectly executed that clichéd, overly dramatic hair flip straight out of a low-budget action movie.

The kind made by men, for men.

The ones where the femme fatale struts into the room, stiletto heels clicking, hair whipping in slow motion, cleavage doing all the talking, her entire existence engineered for the male gaze.

And here you were. No stilettos. No slow motion. Just… the hair flip.

Fantastic.

You shook it off, hoping to slink to your desk unnoticed, now more focused to brace yourself for the silent judgement of-

A man.

Not the man you expected - Hotch.

An actual man, a somehow handsome man.

Oh God. He’d definitely seen you do the dramatic hair flip.

His smirk confirmed it - no need for a profiler to figure that one out.

A man, sitting comfortably in Hotch’s chair. And, notably, no Hotch in sight.

“Are you here for a consultation with Agent Hotchner?” you asked, doing your best to sound at least professional as you set your bag down.

He chuckled – like you were the punchline of some inside joke you weren’t in on. “Actually, yes.”

Though you couldn’t help but study him... it was in your nature afterall.

He was about Hotch’s height, blond, blue-eyed, and generically good-looking in a way that probably gave him the nerve to sit at an agent’s desk without any kind of second thought.

But what really stood out? He looked about your age.

Very early twenties - which, mathematically speaking, made him way too young to be here asking for a consultation.

Not that you were one to talk. You were constantly reminded you were “too young” to be working for the FBI. So, at least you had that in common.

“Agent Y/L/N,” he read from your badge, dragging out the syllables for some of his twisted reasons you chose to ignore. Then he smirked. “You’re young.”

“She is.” Hotch’s voice cut through the air before you could form a response, making you startle slightly. He was suddenly there, right behind you, like he’d materialized out of thin air.

“Sean,” he said, his tone clipped in that uniquely Hotch way that made you feel guilty even if you’d done nothing wrong, “I told you to wait for me outside.”

“And why are you so late?” Hotch added, his focus snapping to you with laser precision, his brows drawing together in that way that made your stomach twist in both irritation and… something else.

Classic Aaron Hotchner.

Two seconds on the scene, already cataloging what annoyed him. Efficiency at its finest.

“Damn, Aaron, relax. It’s barely been a minute,” Sean said, standing up finally, though not without flinching slightly under the weight of Hotch’s glare.

He stepped closer to you, extending a hand like he wasn’t about to be vaporized by the man’s disapproval. “I’m Sean, by the way. I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

Before you could decide whether to shake his hand or politely tell him to run for cover, Hotch’s voice sliced through the air, as sharp and unyielding as ever. “No, you haven’t. Y/N, this is Sean, my brother. Sean, this is Agent Y/L/N, my partner.”

It took approximately two seconds after those words left his mouth for Hotch to realize he’d made not one but two rookie mistakes.

The first? The fact that, for some reason, you got to be “Y/N” while Sean - his brother - was firmly stuck with Agent Y/L/N.

A seemingly innocuous choice, but an interesting one.

Almost as if Hotch didn’t want Sean to forget who you were. Or worse, as if he wanted to keep that small, intimate privilege - using your first name - exclusively for himself.

And why?

Perhaps because, whether he admitted it or not, you’d managed to take up residence in his overworked brain. You weren’t just his colleague - you were his very own walking, talking paradox.

Equal parts intellect and quick wit, you could quote anything from your beloved dead philosophers as easily as you could dismantle someone’s argument with a single sarcastic comment.

You lingered, persistently, in his thoughts - too vividly, too often - so much so that you’d even started showing up in his dreams.

That might explain why his tongue betrayed him now - a slip you would undoubtedly label as ‘textbook Freudian.’

Somehow, through the cracks in the armor of the man who prided himself on control and precision, a truth he had no business acknowledging had leaked out.

Because, inexplicably and irreversibly, he’d just let his younger brother - of all people - catch the faintest glimpse of something he refused to admit even to himself: that he wasn’t entirely indifferent to you.

Not that Sean picked up on it - yet.

No, Sean’s focus was already drifting toward his second mistake, the one Hotch really hoped would keep Sean too distracted to notice the first. And, to Hotch’s silent horror, it worked like a charm.

“Partner?” Sean repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Are the two of you…?” He let the insinuation hang, his expression a mix of confusion and amusement.

Because here’s the thing - thanks to the way Hotch had worded it, Sean wasn’t just thinking that his big brother was casually sleeping with you. Oh no, this was way bigger.

This was Sean, standing here wide-eyed and completely convinced that his older, emotionally constipated, miserably single brother - who’d spent years brooding after his breakup Haley - had somehow not only managed to get a girlfriend but had kept it a secret.

And worse? That this whole scenario meant Hotch was maybe, just maybe, a little happy these days.

That alone was enough to blow Sean’s mind.

But before his imagination could run too far, you stepped in, your voice sharp and immediate. “God, no,” you blurted, practically recoiling from the suggestion.

“No,” Hotch said at the same time, though in stark contrast to your reaction, his was flat and unbothered.

Sean chuckled at your synchronized denial, which only prompted Hotch to fix you with one of his looks - the kind that felt like it could peel layers off your soul. Judgy, silent, but impossibly loud at the same time.

The kind of look that made you curious.

“Was he like this as a kid,” you asked Sean, “or was he ever actually a normal person?”

Sean’s smirk widened. “The only difference between then and now is that now they pay him to act like this.”

You laughed, loud and genuine, and Sean joined in - a perfect snapshot of solidarity between two survivors of Hotch’s relentless Hotch-ness. “Though I have to wonder… maybe he misunderstood the government’s contributions as a green light to act this way. It’s kind of like when you teach a dog to stand on two legs for a treat, and then he just keeps doing it.” You commented.

You and Sean burst into laughter, your voices echoing through the bullpen, while Hotch just stood there.

Watching. Seething.

But not entirely for the reasons he’d expect.

Sure, he was irritated that you had the audacity to make fun of him within perfect earshot - a clear, deliberate payback for all the grief and micromanagement he’d put you through.

But there was something deeper beneath his discomfort, something far more unsettling.

It wasn’t just that you were laughing at him - it was that you were laughing with Sean.

That easy, effortless kind of laughter, the kind he so rarely managed to coax out of you. Sean, his little brother, was already pulling it out of you like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like he’d cracked some code Hotch didn’t even know existed.

And that stung. More than it should’ve.

Because as much as he told himself it was ridiculous - childish, even - he couldn’t shake the flicker of jealousy curling in his chest.

A low, unwelcome burn.

It wasn’t just about the laughter. It was the way you looked at Sean. The way you seemed curious, intrigued by him in a way that made Hotch feel like an outsider in his own space. Like he was standing just outside the circle, close enough to see but not close enough to touch.

And he hated that.

He hated how much it bothered him.

Hated that he cared at all.

Hated the fact that, for all his discipline and carefully crafted walls, you always managed to slip through the cracks.

Unnoticed until it was too late.

Though you weren’t quite as unnoticed by everyone else.

Standing on the mezzanine, there was Gideon, watching you with that unshakeable calm of his. His eyes locked onto yours, and before you could even catch your breath, he called you over to his office.

It was probably for showing up two full hours late, but who could say?

Panic was all over you, though you were certain you kept it well-hidden - at least, you hoped so.

But before you could second-guess yourself, Hotch, who had been silently observing everything, grabbed a file from his desk and walked toward you at a precise angle that turned his back to Gideon.

Then, in a blur of words, he started speaking faster than you thought possible.

“I covered for you,” he said, voice low and hurried. “Tell him you went to see your mom yesterday. You took the 5:07 a.m. train. It broke down in Baltimore - stuck for an hour and forty-two minutes. That’s why you’re late. It’s all fact checked. If he asks - and he probably won’t - you don’t have the ticket because after a 90-minute delay, the company offers a full reimbursement if you send in the original.”

Before you could process what he was saying, he thrust the file into your hands.

“I filled out all the interrogatory statements for the Arlington case. If he asks why I had them, say I’m an idiot and that you cracked the unsub before I did, so the paperwork fell to me.” His dark eyes bore into yours, and for the first time since you’d met him, he sounded almost…desperate. “Don’t panic.”

Your brain short-circuited. The only thing you managed was a breathless, “Thanks.”

He watched you go, tracking every step you took until you disappeared into Gideon’s office. His jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his side like he was bracing himself to pull you out of trouble if it came to that.

Though Sean, ever the opportunist, broke the silence. “Since when do you cover for people?” he asked.

Hotch didn’t bother looking at him, his focus firmly fixed on the files in his hands, though his grip had tightened ever so slightly. “Since her boss called her in for something unfair. She’s the first - well, second - person to arrive every day and the last to leave. She works harder than anyone here, including me, and she never complains about it. It’s not fair to punish her for being late once when she’s the one who picks up everyone else’s slack. This is a one-time thing, and frankly, it’s probably for the best - at least she got some sleep for once.”

Was that an over-articulated answer to what was likely more of an exclamation than an actual question? Yes. But better to be thorough than shallow - or at least, that’s what Hotch told himself.

Sean, on the other hand, had no qualms about being a bit shallow.

“You’re sure that’s the reason she was late?” Sean asked, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Not because she, you know…” He trailed off, tilting his head, the mischievous grin practically begging Hotch to take the bait.

No. Of course not.

Not that there would’ve been anything wrong with it. Not because he wanted to come off as paternalistic or prudish about it.

Hell, if you really did, he hoped it was… fine.

Great, even.

But then, there was that annoying, traitorous part of him whispering - shouting, really - that he hoped it wasn’t too good.

Or serious.

Or anything worth bringing up more than once.

Damn it, Hotchner, could he not just be a normal, well-adjusted adult and be happy for someone else’s happiness without making it weird? Apparently not.

Still, he needed to give an actual response. Out of the 600,000 words available in the English language, what did he choose? The most original, expressive, and earth-shattering one of all: “No.”

Of course, it probably came out sounding way too sharp, betraying every tightly-coiled emotion he was trying to keep hidden.

Luckily - or unluckily - Sean was too busy zeroing in on something else to even notice.

“So,” Sean began, dragging out the word, “she’s single.”

…it wasn’t even a question.

Hotch exhaled through his nose, his patience already wearing thin. “Yes.” He admitted. “But don’t think about it.” He stopped him, already knowing where this conversation would eventually go.

“Why not?” Sean asked, his smirk practically carved into his face now. “You like her?” The teasing lilt in his voice was impossible to miss, but beneath it, there was a flicker of genuine curiosity.

Yes. Absolutely.

More than liked.

Liked in a way that he thought about you far too often, in places he shouldn’t, and at times he didn’t have the luxury of indulging.

Liked in a way that made him occasionally catch himself smiling in the middle of a meeting because some stray thought of you had slipped past his defenses.

Liked in a way that he imagined you during his early-morning runs, wondering if you’d find the sunrise as breathtaking as he did - or if you’d roll your eyes at his choice of music.

You probably would, because it was either the original cast recording of whatever Broadway musical he’d recently become obsessed with, or something from The Beatles.

Not just their classics, but the deeper cuts - the kind his mom had played on repeat during her own Beatlemania phase back in the ’60s, which was, admittedly, a phenomenon he’d inherited in his own way.

He liked you in a way that felt ridiculous, really.

Like the time he caught himself wondering if you’d like the tie he was wearing, not that he’d ever admit he chose it with you in mind.

Or when he stayed up too late re-reading one of your old case reports, pretending it was for work when it was really just to admire how sharp and thoughtful your insights were.

But admitting that? Out loud?

To Sean, of all people?

He’d rather reorganize the mountain of case files sitting on your desk alphabetically and chronologically - twice.

“No,” Hotch said instead, his tone clipped and matter-of-fact. ��I work with her, Sean.”

Sean wasn’t one to let things go easily - especially when he sensed he was onto something. “Okay, so you work with her,” he said, dragging out the words like they were some kind of weak excuse. “But that doesn’t explain why I can’t take a shot. What’s stopping me?”

Hotch’s jaw clenched as he shifted his attention back to the windows of Gideon’s office. He didn’t want to say it, but he also didn’t trust his brother to let the subject drop without some kind of deflection. “You’re not her type,” he said flatly.

Sean blinked, caught off guard for a moment before recovering with an incredulous laugh. “Not her type? How do you know what her type is?”

Hotch didn’t respond right away.

He didn’t need to.

The deadpan look he shot Sean over his shoulder was enough to say ‘I know her type because I know her’.

Sean, however, wasn’t deterred. “Okay, genius, enlighten me. What exactly is her type, then? Because I’m charming, good-looking, and - let’s not forget - single.” He motioned to himself like he was presenting the world’s greatest catch.

Hotch sighed. “Her type,” he began almost whispering, now suddenly afraid that someone would hear him, “is someone more serious. Someone who knows how to respect her work ethic, her intelligence, and the fact that she’s earned her place here. Someone who doesn’t think he can waltz in and-” He cut himself off, realizing he was veering dangerously close to sounding personal.

Too personal.

Too bad he stopped talking before he could drop the one crucial piece of information Sean probably needed to know: as far as Hotch knew, you only dated older... much older.

And him being the same age as you? Yeah, that definitely didn’t work in his favor.

Sean tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “So… basically, someone who isn’t me. But someone who is… maybe a little more like you?” He watched the way Hotch’s shoulders stiffened at the suggestion.

Hotch turned fully to face his brother, his expression dark. “Sean,” he warned, his voice a low rumble.

But Sean wasn’t fazed. “I’m just saying, Aaron. You’re standing here, going on about how she deserves someone serious and respectful and all that, but you’re practically describing yourself. So maybe the reason you don’t want me going after her is because-”

“That’s enough,” Hotch interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut through any further teasing. “It’s not appropriate, and it’s not happening. End of discussion.”

Sean held up his hands in mock surrender, though his smirk stayed firmly in place. “Alright, alright. But for the record, you didn’t deny it.”

Hotch didn’t bother dignifying that with a response. Instead, he turned back toward the windows of Gideon’s office, his gaze locking on your profile once more.

Sean followed his brother’s line of sight, leaning closer “She really does have you all twisted up, doesn’t she?”

Hotch ignored him.

But as much as he wanted to pretend Sean was wrong, the burn in his chest told him otherwise.

Because 'twisted up' was probably an understatement for what you were doing to him.

---

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