#alpha medic crackle

[rooksunday]

fluffcember day fifteen: naughty list

Seventeen had never cared about natborn traditions or holidays or whatever other nonsense the galaxy had seen fit to distract his troopers with when they should have been attending to their duty. He had been forced to concede ground, however, after the fall of the former Chancellor and the end of the war Seventeen and the clones had been created to fight. Fine. Some diversions were necessary. Some diversions could be permitted.

In order to, for example, not start screaming and never stop.

Not long after the fall of Kamino, Fordo had banned Seventeen from the range, which had been the first option for his own distraction from what Crackle had 'diagnosed' as existential despair. Crackle was one of few surviving alpha medics, and in the absence of physical wounds to tend, had decided to scrape the holonet for bacta for the mind. Absolute nonsense but Crackle—weak knees, weak heart, bafflingly strong conviction once he dug his heels in—had ordered Seventeen to at least pretend to give a kriff about anything other than sanctioned murder.

That had been the start of the screaming portion of the affair. Somewhere among all that, Seventeen had managed to convey that he did give a kriff, and had protested as such. Possibly at longer length that his dignity could stand.

Out loud where other beings can see, then, had been the dry response.

Seventeen didn't remember Crackle being so mouthy. It had reminded him of the command cadets.

Following that enlightening exchange, and Fordo intervening to throw soft furnishings at Seventeen like they were live ordnance, it had been an embarrassingly short surrender to Seventeen finally reading the comm messages he'd been ignoring, whereupon he'd learnt that half the former Grand Army of the Republic had become bedwetters over something called 'Life Day'. Some nattie holiday. Yet, having nothing better to do—and being banned from anything with higher yield than a loaf of bread—Seventeen had researched what that was about, and from there. Well.

He'd had the idea, hadn't he.

And, in his forced retirement, a glut of time to bring the idea into being.

All of which had led to Seventeen sitting in the single studio into which he'd been boxed away, in the complex on the planet where Fordo had dragged him after the fall of Kamino, watching his comm light up with even more messages than he'd received since said fall. (The declaration of independence by the alphas had been broadcast across half the galaxy, Seventeen framed forever behind Fordo's shoulder, teeth bared in victory.)

Crackle let himself into Seventeen's room after his furious knocking went ignored.

"Seventeen, what the kark did you do? I've been getting messages from troopers I didn't think knew I existed, checking to see if you have a head injury we don't all already know about," Crackle bitched, creaking his way over to sit on the arm of Seventeen's armchair.

"Sounds like a failure in opsec. Get off my chair, your fat ass will make it lopsided."

"I'll sit on the other side next time. Or I can get Fordo in here if you prefer? Even it out?" Seventeen grunted and Crackle snorted. "Thought so." He dug a knuckle into Seventeen’s traps, where there had always been a gap in their armour. "Talk me through what this is all about."

"Life Day. Naughty list."

"…Talk more words."

Seventeen rolled his eyes and slouched back in his armchair, stretching one foot to hook around the low table where he'd thrown his comm. The scrape of the table across the bare floor made Crackle twitch and dig his knuckle in again. Seventeen jabbed Crackle sharply in the inner thigh, then grabbed his comm and tossed it at the other alpha, forcing Crackle to choose to retaliate or catch the comm.

He caught the comm.

Crackle had always been a softie.

Beautiful silence descended as Crackle read through the relevant page that Seventeen had bookmarked on his comm, expecting an interrogation from one or other of alphas packed into the complex. Seventeen checked the absence of dirt beneath his nails as Crackle read.

"Naughty list," Crackle finally said.

"That's right."

"Coal."

Seventeen hummed in affirmation. Then he seesawed his hand. "Coal-ish. Fossil fuels are expensive."

"You boxed up and sent a coal-ish rock to half the cee-cees. With no explanation. Because you decided they're on the naughty list for Life Day?" Crackle confirmed, his voice not giving anything away.

Seventeen didn't allow himself to smile. He'd been very serious in his assessment of the command class, after all.

"I did," he said, with a nod.

A loud smacking noise ricocheted in Seventeen's ear as Crackle delivered an obnoxious kiss to the side of his head. Seventeen had scarcely finished recoiling from that before Crackle was hauling him bodily to his feet and tugging him toward the door.

"What the k— Slow down! What are you doing? You're a medic, how are you so karking slippery—"

"Stop struggling and come with me. You're a kriffin' genius! Come on, if you tell Fordo how you did it, we can get a load of the cee-tees too and really fuck with them—"

Seventeen stopped struggling and let himself be tugged along by Crackle's enthusiasm. Sometimes a soldier had to accept there were battles not worth the fight.

Sometimes they even had to smile about losing.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Ranger (Part 1)

Summary: The reader is trying to enjoy her vacation in the rainy forest in her cozy cabin when an unexpected heat comes on. But things turn dangerous fast and she needs the help of a local forest ranger to get out of it. But she wasn't expecting his help to include claiming her and being her true mate. Because something isn't right and her Alpha is keeping something from her...

Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!reader

Word Count: 5,300ish

Warnings: language, life threatening medical situation, angst

A/N: Please enjoy this first part!

_______

This was not an ideal situation. You’d finally done it and taken that solo vacation in the mountains. A cozy cabin in a retreat from the world. The trees had turned already and were bare but the damp, cloudy rainy day would have been perfect to curl up by the wood fireplace and get through that stack of books you’d been meaning to.

Except your heat, your heat that’d always been on schedule since you’d started having them, was three fucking weeks early. You didn’t have any medicine besides a few pain killers meant for headaches, not dangerous cramps, and the cabin only had basics meant for allergies or a cold. You needed heat suppressants soon if you didn’t want to go into a full heat. 

Which again, wasn’t an ideal situation since you didn’t have a flippin’ mate.

You could have tried to trek back to civilization through the winding dirt road but it’d taken two hours on the way in. Two hours of intense cramps? No way were you making that drive.

“Shit,” you said, walking slowly to the service room on the lower floor of the cabin where a radio at a table sat. Because of course you wanted to vacation somewhere without people, that meant no cell service either.

A rumble of cramps passed through you, warmth flaring your insides. You gritted your teeth and grabbed the radio, turning the frequency to the ranger station listed on the sheet on the table for emergencies.

“Hello, uh, forest service? I need help,” you said, closing your eyes as pain radiated up your spine. You frowned for a moment, the radio crackling. “Hello? I-”

“This is station 327, Ranger Winchester. What’s the emergency?” asked a strong, serious voice. You bit your bottom lip as you imagined he was an Alpha, your core quivering at the idea of getting a knot. “Mam? Please respond.”

“M-My heat’s early. It’s real bad and I have no medication. I-I’m in the Vrbo cabin off route 37, Mount Dusk I think it was called. I-”

“This line is for true emergencies. Your heat being a few days early and you being an unprepared Omega is not-”

“Listen asshole,” you snarled, gasping when your stomach threatened to curl in on itself. “It’s three fucking weeks early which everyone knows isn’t normal. I need a fucking heat kit, a strong one, or a fucking knot now and since I’m out here alone, all I got is your ass. So get me my shit and-FUCK!”

You dropped the radio as you bent over, falling to your knees. Something was wrong. Heat’s didn’t come on this fast, not even when you scented your true mate.

You could hear noise through the radio but your head was thrumming, your body grateful for the cold wood floor below you. It wasn’t possible to die from a heat, was it? If you let the fever go you supposed but it took days and days for that to happen and you’d only felt crappy for an hour. Yeah, you’d be just fine. This guy would bring you medicine and you’d be fine.

Right?

You blinked open your eyes when you heard glass break. Crap, you’d passed out for who knew how long. The overwhelming scent of Alpha hit you and despite the pain, you shot upright, staring at the man in the wet raincoat as he reached his hand through the broken pane and undid the lock. He froze when he saw you, his own scent shifting subtly. A hint of fear under the surface.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, raking his eyes over your sweat drenched body. He took off his backpack, pulling out a white box and a bottle of water, cautiously setting them on the ground and sliding them over to you.

“I look that bad, huh?” you said, ripping open the box and finding the medicine you needed, knocking it back with a swig of water. 

“You’re in heat and I don’t want to be accused of doing shit I didn’t,” he said. You narrowed your eyes, hand fisting in your own shirt over your stomach. That shouldn’t have been happening still. Heat medication worked instantly. “What’s-”

You fell over again, clutching your abdomen, head spinning, body going haywire at his scent.

“Please,” you whispered, finding his hard eyes. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I-I need you to-”

“I can’t.” A wracked sob slipped past your lips as something in your broke, pain flooding every single cell. You just needed a knot and it would be bearable. He muttered to himself and quickly you were in strong arms, your own wrapping around him shakily. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I’ll pay you,” you whispered, hating how that sounded but he simply carried you out in the pouring rain, the cold air helping your skin not feel so hot.

“I’m on Novi-Alpha. If I knotted you,, you’d fucking die so I’m sorry but I can’t help you like that even if I wanted to.”

“I’m gonna die from this fucking fever anyways!” you shouted as he opened the backdoor of a rugged looking jeep. 

“One’s a chance, one’s a guarantee,” he said, setting you down, your arms still clinging to him. He eyed you, forcibly grabbing your wrists and pulling them away. “You will not die, understand me? Now let me get you to a hospital.”

You reached for him but he moved away too quickly, closing the door. He ducked into the cabin to retrieve his bag before he was behind the wheel.

“Honey Dusk Hospital is aware you’re in a dangerous heat,” he said, turning the jeep around and driving down the dirt road, way faster than you had.

“Don’t kill me in a fucking car accident on the way,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut.

“This vehicle is meant for these roads, unlike your car. We’ll be on route 37 in thirty minutes, at the hospital in forty five.” You threw your head back, his musky scent filling the small space. 

“Distract me,” you breathed out. “Fuck you smell so good. If you weren’t on Novi-Alpha, I’d climb you like a fucking tree.”

“Whoa lady. Calm down-”

“Don’t lady me. We’re like the same fucking age.”

“You say fucking a lot, you realize.”

“You have your insides tearing apart and tell me you wouldn’t be cursing-” You shouted, bracing yourself against the door panel, feeling him step on the gas harder. “What the fuck is happening to me?”

“...I have an idea,” he said quietly. You flashed open your eyes, looking at his incredible scruff covered jawline, his gaze focused on the bumpy, wet road ahead. 

“What? Are you a doctor? Are-”

“No. I only know my basic medical training.” He frowned, rounding a tight corner. “It’s probably not a heat and you’re just sick.”

“I know what a heat feels like thank you very much.” You shivered violently, the ranger sighing. “What’s your name?”

“Dean Winchester. Try to rest. We’ll be there soon.”

The ranger’s suggestion to rest had, shockingly, not worked. By the time you were speeding down this small town’s streets, you were shaking so hard you literally couldn’t stop. Dean had reached back more than once as he drove with a handheld thermometer, muttering a few f-bombs to himself.

At least he wasn’t the one with a hundred and five temperature. A hundred and five and a half to be exact. You were pretty sure your heat was about to boil the fuck out of you and kill you within the next hour.

Dean said something but you didn’t hear him over your screaming. The next thing you knew he was ripping open the door and running inside a hospital with you in his arms, nearly tripping into a stretcher where a team was waiting.

“She’s fucking dying,” he said as he set you down, the team of doctors and nurses rushing you into a side room.

“You said this heat came on suddenly?” he asked Dean, someone sticking a thermometer in your ear.

“106. She’s too hot,” called out the nurse, the doctor near Dean rushing over, the team suddenly pushing you out of the room and down the hall. You were shoved through a pair of double doors into a bathroom, a silver high walled tub in the corner. 

“I got her,” said Dean, lifting you up and plunging you into an icy cold bath. You screamed as it burned your fiery skin, his hands on your shoulders forcing you to stay inside. “Look at me. Look at me.”

You couldn’t get the words out, taking in his green emerald eyes for the first time. His scent was still all around you, pine trees and vanilla beans, a cozy campfire and aged whiskey, fresh tobacco and soft linen. Your brain went fuzzy, blood pumping in your ears, thrumming in time with your heart. Was it getting slower? Your eyes were getting heavier, that was for sure. 

But he smelled so pretty, so…homey. Rugged. Yours.

“We’re losing her!” someone shouted, just as one last image of his concerned face crossed your mind.

You felt strangely…blissed out when you woke. Satisfied, like you were after being on the receiving end of a knot but also relaxed and floaty, like when you finished a heat. It wasn’t exactly a problem your heat had passed but you remembered a whole lot of pain and a high fever which wasn’t normal. 

So what the fuck had happened?

You stretched in bed and sat up, a doctor in a white coat stepping into the room with a smile.

“Y/N! Glad to see you awake. It’s been a few hours. How are you feeling?” he asked, gently taking your wrist and checking your pulse. 

“Uh, pretty good actually. I take it my heat’s gone?” He hummed, raising your arm up, feeling under your armpit.

“Yes. There’s not many cases a year but some Omegas do unfortunately have a negative reaction.” The doctor put two fingers to your bonding gland on your neck, your eyes narrowing. Why would he be feeling that? 

“What are you doing?” you asked as he pulled them back, glancing at a monitor. 

“Just checking your bond is healing.” You stared at him, the doctor glancing down with a sigh. “You don’t remember, do you? What happened before you passed out in the tub?”

“I remember being dumped in ice cold water and a whole lot of people shouting but that’s it.” 

“You didn’t pass out immediately. We determined while you were on the way here that your heat was triggered by the fact you came into contact with your true mate. Ordinarily, you would have picked up on this yourselves but your Alpha is on medication that has strong side effects. Namely, he was only vaguely aware of who you were through scent but there was no desire to mate as would be the norm. For you, unfortunately there is no recognition on a level that you’re aware of. You understandably would not know you went into heat early because of your true mate.”

You reached a hand up to your bonding gland, wide eyed when you felt…something. You flew out of bed, the doctor trying to stop you but you were quickly in the small bathroom, staring in the mirror.

“What the fuck is that!” you shouted. On your neck was a fresh, pink, bite mark. Someone had fucking claimed you. You angrily spun around, the doctor holding up his hands. “What kind of hospital is this! I’m suing the fuck out of you and this whole place!”

You caught a whiff of something…delectable, an Alpha’s scent somewhere close by. It calmed you, ever so briefly, the doctor sighing. 

“The man that brought you in-”

“The ranger guy.”

“Yes he…well he…there’s no easy way to say this. He is your true mate. Ordinarily we would have used medication to mimic your true mate’s scent but seeing as he was there…when he was told he would be able to claim…” he said as you stalked out, eye twitching. “We were losing you and receiving a claim bite from your true mate was the fastest way to bring your fever down. In emergency situations, true mates are allowed to make medical choice for you if you’re unable-”

“He wasn’t my mate then,” you growled.

“Physically, no but on a metaphysical level, yes. Frankly, the health of my patient, you, is all I care about. We’d like to observe you a few more hours before discharging.” You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes.

“So my heat is magically gone and some random dude hanging out in the hall is now my Alpha?” 

“That’s the more blunt way of putting it. We’ll send home medication to suppress your urges to mate physically. Your Alpha will be unable to knot you until he has completed his Novi-Alpha prescription.” 

“And when will that be?” you asked, tilting your head. The doctor frowned. “When?”

“...You don’t know what Novi-Alpha is prescribed for, do you. That is a discussion for you and your Alpha.” You wanted to argue but he lifted his chin. “Please let me finish my examination and determine if your heat had any consequences.”

Three hours later they finally let you leave, a white baggie in hand that held a bottle of pills you were to take once a week for the foreseeable future. There were well over a hundred inside which made you more than queasy.

What the fuck was Novi-Alpha and why did a guy that looked more than healthy need to be on it?

You frowned when you stepped outside under the covered front entrance, the ranger standing from where he sat on a bench. 

“Hey,” he said quietly. “How are you feeling?” 

“I didn’t give you permission to claim me.” His scent shifted, an edge to it you didn’t like. He narrowed his eyes, a frown growing on his otherwise handsome face. “Oh, don’t you start on that we’re true mates shit. You didn’t ask for my consent.”

“Excuse me but you were the one begging for it,” he quipped back. He took a few steps away like he was heading for the sidewalk, suddenly turning on a dime and getting in your face. He breathed heavily, clenching his jaw. “You don’t feel…this and I get that it’s my fault. I barely feel it myself. And I frankly don’t care about your consent. My mate was five minutes away from death.”

“Oh, I did not sign up for some toxic asshole,” you said, shaking your head. You took a step, Dean grabbing your wrist. He looked ready to snarl, lip curling up. 

“True mates are never, ever bad mates. Stop hating me for saving you.”

“I don’t even fucking know you. This whole situation is your damn fault in the first place.” He twitched his eye, yanking on your arm so you stepped forward. “Get off, ass-”

“I am your Alpha and I’m taking you home,” he said, tugging you along after him, your feet cold on the wet ground, socks already soaked through. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you growled. Dean whipped around and in a second, you were tossed over his shoulder. “Dean! Put me down!”

“You’ll wear yourself out if you don’t calm down.” You growled, punching his back twice. You raised your fist again but felt dizzy, your hands instead gripping him tightly. “Did you listen to the doctors at all? You need to take it easy.”

“Just take me to my cabin,” you grumbled. He didn’t speak again, only grunted once when he opened the passenger door of his truck to slide you inside. You were too tired to deal with this crap. You’d go back to the cabin, sleep for a solid twelve hours and figure out this mate crap tomorrow. 

The roads were unfamiliar as Dean drove in silence, winding and twisting as he drove away from town and off a small road. It was a gravel road unlike the one to your cabin but you perked up when you saw a cabin in a small clearing after only a few minutes. 

“Uh, that’s not my cabin,” you said. Dean put the truck in park, turning it off. “I was out on Mount-”

“This is my house…our house,” he mumbled the last part. You shook your head at him, Dean rolling his eyes. “You need rest, not to sit in a car for hours. I’ll get your shit from that rental and bring it here. We’ll figure out the rest of your crap from wherever you’re from later.”

“Excuse me? We’re mates, as much as that appalls me. We make decisions like where to live together. I have a job, a life-”

“We live here. End of discussion,” he growled. His scent was raw, twitchy. There was no room for arguing. You were ready to fight back but you forced yourself to calm down. He was your true mate and as much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. True mates were never bad to one another. He wouldn’t harm you but good god was this guy protective. 

You frowned when he held up a finger to you and got out. He threw up his hood, rain coming down harder. In a flash he was at your door, picking you up bridal style and rushing you over to a covered porch. He set you down to unlock the door, flipping a light switch before he stepped back. You walked past him, surprised to find the cabin quite spacious and modern.

He disappeared behind you, returning with your white paper bag, now wet. His boots were removed and you peeled off your soaked through socks, following him slowly as he went to the open kitchen area on the right. The bag was set down, Dean moving to his fridge and taking a few things out.

It was open concept, kitchen on the right, living room on the left, a dining table in the front by the windows. There was a hallway in the back and one off the kitchen, probably leading to bedrooms and a garage. A large fireplace was nestled in the corner of the living room and you saw Dean cross into your vision, going to it to toss in a few logs. 

Honestly, it was nicer than your rental had been.

Once he had a fire going, he turned back to where you stood on the front rug, water dripping off of you. His lips pressed into a thin line, looking you up and down not like an Alpha would his Omega. No, he was being very clear. 

You were the stray that’d followed him home he hadn’t wanted. 

“I don’t have to be here,” you said when he approached, staring up at his dark eyes. “This isn’t normal. We’re supposed to be all over each other and clearly we’re not. We-”

“There’s a stew going on the stove. It’ll be ready in an hour. Just leave it alone.” He put a hand on the small of your back, walking you down to the back hall, motioning you to the last door on the left. He flipped on a light, cascading you into a cozy bedroom with soft white bedding and a dark green flannel blanket on top. 

He cleared his throat and went to a closet, pulling out a few pieces including a t shirt, hoodie, sweatpants and pair of boxer briefs. 

“You should warm up in the shower. Bathroom is right there. The laundry room is on the other side of the house, near the kitchen and garage. It’s coming down harder so it’ll take me a few hours to get to the rental and back here. You should-”

“Take it easy. Yeah, I got that.” He nodded, pausing at the bedroom door with his back to you. 

“If it’s any consolation, I’m sorry this happened to you. You don’t deserve it.” You quirked your eyebrow up.

“You’re my Alpha. We’re soulmates. I guess this is supposed to happen.” He was still, the air thick. “I…listen I know I was…I wish I’d been aware of what I’d been saying but…”

He smelled tense, his hand in a tight fist by his side. What the fuck was up with this guy?

“Whether we like it or not, we’re mates,” you said gently. “When you get off that medicine, it’ll feel different-”

“I can never get off it and I can never knot you. You’ll never feel a damn thing for me.” Then he was gone, tearing down the hall and out the front door before you could even move. 

An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine that he was right. 

Your feet moved on autopilot to the bathroom, stripping out of the wet clothes and standing in front of the nicely tiled shower. In seconds you were under hot water, cascading down your back, through your hair. Fingers reached up to your neck, rubbing over your bond.

There were no sparks or flurry in your veins. You were supposed to be able to feel Dean, feel your connection, feel his soul.

But there was nothing. All you felt was empty.

You couldn’t feel the other part of your soul and he blamed himself.

“Fuck that,” you said, quickly finishing and getting dressed in the clothes aside from the sweatpants that were too long.

You found his computer in one of the spare bedrooms, stealing it along with a notepad and pen. Out in the kitchen, you settled into a seat at the island and drew a line down the middle of the pad. One side for information about Dean, the other Novi-Alpha.

With a quick stretch, you cracked open the laptop and got to work.

Three Hours Later

It was dark by the time headlights flashed through the front windows. The computer said it was just after six thirty and you knew you were about thirty seconds away from an argument. Ah, what a wonderful way to spend your first night with your Alpha.

Out of view you heard the door leading from the garage to the house crack open, wet boots against the tile in the mudroom. 

“I’m back!” he called from around the corner. “We’ll unpack your stuff tomorrow. How was…”

Your eyes darted over to the hallway he exited from, his socked feet padding his footfalls on the woode floors that covered the rest of the house. He stared at where you had his laptop, a charger plugged into the side of the island, a stack of papers next to you, your notepad, pen, three different highlighters and a cup of coffee.

“Are…are you working?” He asked, face souring. “You should be resting. I thought you were here on vacation anyways.”

“I am and this isn’t work related.” He narrowed his eyes, not saying anything as he went to the sink on the other side of the island to wash up. 

“Did you eat yet?” You shook your head, typing some more. A heavy sigh left him. He went to a cabinet, pulling out two large bowls. “You really should have eaten something. You nearly died this morning. Your school project can wait.”

“I’m not in college,” you said, jotting down a few more notes before you saved what you’d been working on and signed out of your account. You closed the screen, watching water trail down from his wet hair and soaking his shirt collar. “Why are you wet?”

“Because there’s a thunderstorm outside. It rains here most days,” he said dryly, giving you a side glare as he walked the two bowls of stew over to the kitchen table. You cocked your head at him as you got up, Dean quickly retrieving utensils. “What?”

“You parked in the garage just now and my cabin was far enough away that you’d be dry. Where’d you stop on the way back?” He slammed the drawer shut, eye twitching. “Strike a nerve?”

“I asked you to do one thing. One thing. Rest. And y-you’re writing a research paper or some crap? Sit down and eat your damn dinner.” You would have told him off but truth be told, you were starving a bit. You took your bowl and moved it to the seat across from his, Dean angrily setting down a spoon. A few moments later, a large glass of water was in front of you and he had a bottle of beer on his placemat. Dean sat with a loud thud, shoveling a large spoonful of food into his mouth.

“Why are you wet?” you asked again, crossing your arms. 

“Why does it matter? Fucking eat.” You leaned back, Dean dropping his spoon in the bowl. “Really? This is how it’s gonna be? I’ve been nothing but nice-”

“If this is you nice then I’d hate to see you mean.” You raised your chin, picking up the spoon. “I’ve always heard alpha’s protective instincts are unmatched. You can barely feel whatever this bond is and you’re so worked up-”

“I almost watched you die today.” You closed your eyes and sighed. A small noise made you open your eyes, Dean sliding a small white box over to you. You frowned, lips parting when you saw the newest iPhone inside. “I got you a phone on the account your other one was in your pocket when you took your artic dip. I rushed to the store before they closed. That is why I’m wet. I’d never want you to feel like you’re trapped here, especially when you can’t feel our ‘whatever bond.’”

“Thank you,” you said quietly. You ate in silence, the only sounds coming from the rain on the roof, the clanking of spoons and the quiet thrum of a soft rock station in the living room.

He seemed…stressed. Maybe you should wait for the morning to bring up what you’d found.

But you didn’t get the chance when he picked up and glanced at your notepad. Green eyes scanned over the pages before he gathered up everything you’d been working on.

And tossed it straight into the fireplace.

“Hey!” you shouted, rushing over as he stopped you in your tracks. He leered down, eyes dark. “That was-”

“You will delete everything you saved on that computer. Now.”

“You can’t-” He gripped your arm tight, so hard he was shaking it.

“Do it or I will make your life hell.” He released you, spinning you around towards the computer. You didn’t believe he’d hurt you. True mates were incapable of it. But you didn’t want to tempt him anymore than you already had.

Ten minutes later, your backup was gone and after a through examination by Dean, he took the computer and tossed it into the fireplace as well.

“I know you have questions,” he said quietly, back to you as the flames danced around the melting device. “I never should have gone hiking this morning. You caught my scent in the wind and-”

“Why would you go hiking in the pouring rain? It was raining this morning too. I had my coffee under the covered porch but it was coming down like bullets. No one would be out there willingly.” He turned and faced you, eyes roaming over your body, stuck on how his boxer briefs molded to your legs.

“In another life, we could have been happy. I would have given you everything you asked for. But not this one. I will keep you safe but that is all we are. We don’t get our happy ever after until we’re both dead.”

You swallowed, stepping into the living room, stopping a few feet away. “You hurt my arm just now.”

“I know,” he said, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again as long as you don’t do stupid things.”

You were getting angry again, Dean holding up his hands. “Stupid shit like try to know my new Alpha who just left me all alone? Sorry for trying to look up your damn social media. Asshole.”

Dean dropped his hands and went back to the fireplace, poking the computer with a poker, shaking his head.

“The more in the dark you are-”

“I’m a corporate forensic analyst, Dean,” you said, Dean’s shoulders stiffening. “Those notes on the computer? In that pad? Those articles? You can burn them all but it’s in my head. I don’t need the internet anymore to figure out what’s going on.”

“And what does your analysis tell you?” he grit out.

“Novi-Alpha is a cancer medication specifically for Alphas. But you don’t have it and never have. So why would an otherwise healthy Alpha take it? Well, it apparently has other uses that the public doesn’t know about…if you’re willing to live with the side effects. Side effects like knotting becoming a deadly activity to the person on the receiving end. The inability to feel your mate. Scent changes. And my personal favorite, if taken without the binding agent that’s given for cancer treatment, it changes your DNA coding without changing your DNA. Apparently law enforcement doesn’t want that news to get out there because it’s a bitch to catch people if they find out they can change their DNA on tests.”

You grabbed his arm and made him face you, a loud crack of thunder echoing in the room. Dean breathed calmly, eyes finding yours.

“Why are you taking medicine to change your DNA?”

“Because I did something bad, Y/N.” He got closer, pressing his chest to yours, forcing you to tilt your head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Fingers brushed over your cheek, thumb swiping over the curve of it slowly. “Because your true mate is a monster. And once you know the truth, you’ll want to run away…and I don’t think I’m strong enough to let you go.”

The air was thick with his scent, dark yet pleasant. Painful even. You leaned into his touch, Dean’s green eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Novi-Alpha prevents Omegas from feeling their true mate. But I know you feel me.” You closed your eyes, breathing him in. “You have to tell me the truth eventually.”

“No I don’t,” he whispered. 

“You’ll tell me,” you said, opening your eyes, Dean’s hand sliding down to your mark. “Because I’m in danger if you don’t.”

He shook his head, pulling away from you. “Don’t pull that crap, Y/N. You’re safer not knowing.”

“Right. That’s why you burned everything just now.” He looked up, like someone else would magically tell him what to do. “You need to protect me. It’s your job. So you have to tell me the truth, Alpha. You have to.”

He laughed quietly, running a hand through his damp hair. “Using my title to get what you want. Manipulative. Maybe you were meant for me.”

“Dean-”

“The Ranger.” You raised your eyebrows at him, Dean wandering to the dark window.

“Uh, what? This is because you’re a forest ranger?” He laughed again, crossing his arms.

“No. I do that because…it’s a pretty isolated job. Small town work.” He looked to his right, a sad smile on his face. “The Ranger. That was my name when I had a different job.”

“That’s not a name…” you said, Dean shrugging. “What’d you do when you were The Ranger?”

He smirked, meeting your curious gaze. “Have you ever killed anyone?” 

He slowly stalked back to you, tilting his head. He leaned in close, glancing at your lips. “N-No, can’t say I have.”

“Ever kill an animal?”

“I hit a squirrel with my car once. I cried all night for that.” Dean rested his forehead against yours, his scent rolling off of him in powerful waves. “D-Do you hunt animals?”

“No.” He brushed his lips to the shell of your ear, his pulse strangely calm. “Now people, that’s a different story.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

The Suppressants

Alpha!Joel Miller X Omega!Afab!Reader

Summary: What do you do when you run out of heat suppressants? You turn to the only person who can possibly get you more medication; even if it means airing your biggest secret. But when Joel doesn’t have what you need you must travel together to meet another dealer. Surely you’ll get more medicine score your heat starts… right?

Warnings: post-apocalyptic world. A/B/O alternative universe, (A/B/O dynamics including: Scenting, Marking, Knotting, Heats) age gap (Reader is 26, Joel is late 40s), reader has been on suppressant most of her life, Joel teaches reader about guns, parental lost (not depicted on page), future smut, he falls first, angst(?), let me know if I missed anything for this part!

A/N: what? Who? Apollyon didn’t disappear off the face of the earth after all?! Yes, hello, I live! I’ve been working on 7 different WIPs and this is the first one I finally finished!!! 🤣 All I can think about is a nice, warm, rough Alpha Joel lately and so here you go!

Part One, Part two vvv (tumbler is acting so weird with this story and not letting me link the parts together!))

https://www.tumblr.com/apollyonsdarksecrets/766831444801863680/the-suppressants-alpha-joel-miller-x

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Staring at the scratched orange bottle in your hands you suck in an uneven breath.

Eleven little green pills rattle in their plastic container, signifying that your time to find help has dwindled down to a little over a week.

You closer your eyes, tapping the bottle against your forehead as you come to your forced conclusion. You know what you have to do, you know that there is no longer another option. No one else to turn to.

It’s the panic seizing your heart that makes it feel impossible to ask.

The secret you harbored, that these little pills kept under control, would have to come to light, if rumors hadn’t already spread. The thought alone makes your empty stomach lurch with nausea.

You hadn’t been neglectful. No. You had tried desperately to find more medication before time ran out. You had gone to six different shady dealers. Six different people who all worked for the same boss.

It was inevitable he would find out one way or the other. Maybe it would be best coming from you.

Steeling yourself, you hold your breath, forcing your brain to focus on the slow burn building in your lungs, until you are no longer trembling. Only then do you let loose a deep sigh.

You go for the brown messenger bag you keep by the door, slinging it on the kitchen counter before stuffing the main pocket with ration cards. the slips of paper crinkle loudly, taunting you even, as if they know they came from selling your furniture. As if they knew you had to stoop so low that all you have to your name is a mattress and torn up blankets.

Next is a thick brick of bakers chocolate, a gift from your elderly neighbor after you had fixed her small space heater. You examine the brick, no expiration or best by date can be found before you shove it into the side pouch. All you can hope for is that it isn’t too far gone.

You frown, the bag still half empty, and you glance around your kitchen to see if there is anything else to be added. To make what you are about to ask for a bit more reasonable. Coming up empty handed you snatch the bag and leave.

Your destination is only two floors above you, and you wonder if he can sense something is coming his way, as you start down the hall, like the crackle of a close storm in the air.

The nauseous feeling grows stronger as you recite the scripture you’ve created in your mind of what to say. But your legs feel as though you’ve been shackled with heavy balls and chains, making your feet drag over the dirty, curling carpet of the hall.

It would be a lie if you said you hadn’t thought of turning tail and hiding. Of slinking off to some hidden, far away place where hopefully none of your problems would attract consequences. The only thing that is stopping you is the thought of your mother.

You can practically see the shame that would have dimmed her blue eyes, the curl of her lip as she realized her daughter was nothing more than a coward.

Less of an Omega and more of a pussy-cat.

You take the stairs up, up, up, slowly; hand gripping the railing so hard your skin is white across your knuckles. You rationalize your predicament in the back of your mind, arguing that you never thought you would live to see the day your medication would run out. That every day you survived after the loss of your mother was a gift, having been so cruelly hindered by your own biology. Having to depend of medication just to survive the only true horror of the world ending. Humans.

Too soon you are ascending the next set of steps, finding yourself standing in front of a faded green door, the imprint of the long missing metal numbers your only indication you are at the right place.

That you are at his door.

The man on the other side is the only reason you had made it thus far, you should feel confident that he will help, that he would accept the truth without faulting you or your mother for never trusting him enough to bare it. But then again…

You stare at the door, your chest tightening, turning your breath into shallow pants. Your limbs suddenly feel numb, the tips of your fingers tingling and it spreads through your palms and up your arms. Trying to swallow against your dry throat you lift your knuckles to the door, forcing your body to go through with the motion. The wood sounds hallow under the weight of your fist, your eyes growing marginally larger, as if you hadn’t full expected to make contact.

Before you can decide to turn and run, or stay rooted to your spot, the choice is made for you.

Joel Miller, with his ever watchful gaze and scowling features, is suddenly towering over you from what feels like the top of the door frame. His deep brown eyes lighten, the pinch between his brow softening as he realizes who’s at his door. Checking the hallway his rigid posture relaxes, leaning his shoulder into the frame. “What brings ya here, darlin’?”

Unexpected tears well up in your eyes at the innocent question, and you’re helpless to stop them as they roll down your cheeks. Before you know it you’re sobbing, throwing your hands into the air with defeat as you try and fail to form words around the constricting sobs.

Joel’s eyes go wide, a chorus of emotions pelting him at your sudden display of emotion. Having known you for so long to be a level headed woman, every warning bell is going off for Joel as he stiffens, reaching for you. “Woah, woah, honey what is the-“

You shake your head, cutting him off as you push past into his apartment. You sling your bag around to your front, fighting with the buckles. Joel shuts the door quickly with another backwards glance, watching bewildered as you struggle with your shaking hands.

“I-I have all of this, and I know-know that this is how people pay you.” You manage to get out, flipping your bag over and dumping the cards onto the table. His eyebrows shoot to his curling hairline, watching the different colored slips spill across the wood, some floating to the floor. You struggle with something else in your bag, yanking and tugging and he steps forward to possibly offer you help when you snap. “God damnit!” Finally ripping the chocolate free, you slam it down, the brick cracking in half audibly. “Chocolate… everyone loves chocolate… I just…” When you turn to look at him with such wild, desperate eyes Joel can only think that the worst has happened. “I need your help.”

Joel steps closer, his hands raised like your some skittish animal ready to dart. “Darlin’. Let’s calm down, you know you ain’t gotta do all of this. Just tell me what it is you need.” And he’s right, you’ve never had to pay him for anything, an agreement made when your mom and Joel worked together all those years ago.

Her knowledge of pharmaceuticals mixed with his innate abilities to smuggle any kind of contraband into the QZ made them the best business partners. Your mother had given him her knowledge willingly as long as he agreed to her terms; use what you can to help those around you, and should anything happen to her, watch over her only daughter.

A fresh wave of pained tears rush forward, letting Joel close the distance between you. He grips your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into your tense muscles as you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold onto any semblance of your dignity. “It’s bad… That… That’s why I brought all of this.”

His heart starts to thunder in his chest, your words spiking his own anxiety. ‘Please don’t be pregnant. Please don’t be-‘

“I need heat suppressants. I only have eleven left before I run out completely.”

Joel pulls back like you had suddenly slapped him, shock and denial playing across his features. “You… What?” He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, running a hand through his greying hair when you flinch. You don’t answer him, instead turning your eyes to the dirt stricken floor below your feet. Joel paces away, turning back to inspect you, his eyes tracing over your smaller figure. He’d known your mother was an Omega, but seeing as you had given off no smell or any signs he chalked it up to you having struck gold and been born a Beta. Never once did it cross his mind that you were on suppressants.

Passing a hand over his face, he turns away, afraid to witness the devastation about to wreck your face. “I don’t have any.”

Your insides lurch, the nausea from earlier hitting you like a punch to the gut, making you grip the back of a kitchen chair. “What?” You squeak, face turning pale as you stare at the side of Joel’s face. “Joel, please… Please I have all of this, there has to be someone! If I go into heat every Alpha in the QZ will be after me like I’m- I’m some kind of prize!” And in a sick, demented way, you’re telling the truth.

Omega numbers were already dropping before the start of the outbreak, causing Alpha’s who couldn’t control their instincts to become possessive, and unruly. That same reason is why there are so few Omegas to count now, most new Alphas becoming rogue with the need to mate, leaving those of us left in constant fear.

“Please,” You whisper brokenly, pressing your hands to your chest. “Everyone said you were who I needed to go to. There has to be something.”

Joel cusses under his breath, turning to look at you and the sight alone is enough to break his heart, hearing you plead is only driving a stake through it. “Look… It’s a bit of a long shot but there is someone I know. It may take me a few days to get in touch with him but if he does have any suppressants it’ll be about a weeks journey.”

“You… You mean leave the QZ?” You haven’t stepped foot outside of these metal walls since you were brought here as a young teenager, nearly 13 years ago. The thought alone is enough to make you want to back out, throw in the towel and hide somewhere where no one can find you. Joel sees your hesitation and splays his hands.

“Yes, but you know I’ve been out there hundreds of times now. I know this route like the back of my hand. If you don’t come with me there will be no way for you to get the medication in time for your…” Joel trails off, a soft rosy color surfacing on his tan cheeks. “You’re gonna have to come with me.”

You glance away, gnawing on your lower lip. With a curt nod you agree, knowing that there isn’t another choice.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It takes two agonizing days before Joel is showing up at your door, telling you he’s heard from a Beta named Mark; the dealer you’ll be meeting with. With Joel is a well worn map, the paper soft under your fingers as Joel shows you exactly the route he and you will be taking to the next town just north of here. You listen to him intensely as you both lean against the kitchen counter, mentally noting everything he tells you as he explains what dangers you could potentially face.

Next is for him to show you what needs to be packed. Joel notices the furniture and other necessities your apartment lacks as he goes through your cupboards and then your clothes, all of it explaining how you had secured so many ration cards.

After Joel is sure you’re packed to the extent that you can carry, he takes the next few hours before night fall to teach you the ends and outs of the pistol you’ll be carrying. He shows you how to dismantle it, then how to build it back, explaining each part in detail as you watch in fascination how nimbly his large hands move over the small parts. Once everything is in place, he spins the unloaded gun around, holding out the handle.

Though you’ve been around enforcers the majority of your life, you knew very little about guns. Your mother had kept you away from the more violent parts of the QZ, her high statues ensuring you had more mundane jobs on your rolls. All of that being said the first thing that comes to mind when you think pistols is the only movie you had in your apartment. You spin around, pointing the barrel at the little white refrigerator with one hand cocked sideways. The same way you’d seen Samuel L. Jackson’s character do in the movie Pulp Fiction.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Joel snaps incredulously, stepping up behind you.

“What? I’ve only seen Pulp Fiction, this is how they do it.” You argue back, dropping your arm to your side as you turn to look up at Joel.

He glares down at you before he steps closer, his chest pressing against your back. “You ain’t no Sam Jackson, woman, now pay attention.” His hand grips your wrist and he guides you to bring the gun back up. You try to pay attention, you truly do, as he instructs you on where to place your palms on the hilt, how your fingers should over lap the others and squeeze; but the heat radiating off of his body makes it nearly impossible. Joel curls around you slightly to get to your level, holding your hands steady between his own, and everywhere that his skin touches yours sends electricity crackling across every nerve.

If he feels even a fraction of what you do, he hides it well as you turn your head to look. You trace the outline of his face, the small sun spots across his Castilian nose, down to the frown of his lips; completely forgetting what he is showing you. His eyes flicker to yours, hardened with concentration , “You never put yer finger on the trigger unless you are absolutely certain yer ready to shoot.” His voice is rough and firm, searching your eyes as you dip your head in agreement. “Good girl. Now, pay attention.”

It’s easier said than done as his hands correct your shoulders, his boot nudging your feet apart to widen your stance, or when he finally steeps away how you can feel his gaze burning into your flesh. You try to hold the gun steady, aiming down the sights at the litter of ABC magnets that adorn your fridge but your arms begin to shake from the weight.

“This feels wrong.”

“You’ll get use to it.” Joel mutters with a shrug as you hand the gun over. “When we get far enough away we’ll find an area where we wont draw too much attention to ourselves, and you can practice.”

You nod, fallowing Joel’s lead as he takes a seat on the once grey carpet, watching how he loads the magazine. You pick at a stray thread on your jeans, watching how his fingers move. After a few moments of silence you shift around. “Thank you… for doing all of this.”

Joel sighs through his nose, looking over at you, trying to peek at your down turned face. “I just wish you’d a come to me sooner.” You rest your cheek on your knee, eyebrows pinching in the center. “You use to come to me for a lot, I know this is well… Different, but it don’t change the fact that it’s just me.”

“It’s just,” You suck in a deep breath, “I’ve been asking around for a few months now… It was just the thought of coming to you directly was… embarrassing? I thought that if you knew I was an Omega you would start to treat me differently… I don’t want that.” You pull the strings free before rolling it into a little ball and flicking it somewhere across the room.

Joel is silent for a moment, rolling a bullet back and forth across his palm. “Sure it ain’t got something to do with me being an Alpha?” The question is weighted, and even though you don’t say anything he can see the blush spreading across your cheeks. He stretches his leg out, nudging your calf with the toe of his boot. “Hey. It’s alright. I understand, I ain’t blind to how things are now. I wont treat you no differently than I have before, darlin’. Swear it.”

You glance up at him, the smallest of smiles playing across his lips as you stare at each other in the dim light of your living room. You nod once.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been extremely unnerving how easily the two of you had slipped from between the metal walls under the blanket of a starless sky. How the patrolling officers didn’t so much as catch a glimpse of your slinking forms as you dashed across the bare field for the crop of trees. Even though your body is riddled with anxiety, you can’t help but marvel at life outside of the city. You can take your first full breath of air, no longer chocking under the overpowering stench of human and trash.

When you both slow in a clearing you are able to look up and see the blue-black sky beginning to change colors as dawn crept in. There’s no haze, no smog, or dust. Just the sun painting the leaves in beautiful shades of golds, purples, and reds. You close your eyes, letting the light warm your face as you take it all in, your shoulders relaxing, your chest no longer feeling taught.

And Joel is there, watching you from a short distance away as your skin is cast in a thousand shades of morning. You’re glowing, and for a brief moment Joel wonders how you would have thrived in a normal world; a better world.

“It’s so beautiful out here.” Your voice floats across the space between you, soft so as not to disturb the birds waking. He startles slightly, knowing he’s been caught staring at you and he adverts his eyes to the sky. He’s seen it a million times, his mind and body roughened by the losses he’s endured; the brunt of the world chipping away at him. He knows the dangers, the risks, the things that lurk just out of sight; but… as he stares at the sky, then back to you, the amazement playing across your face…

“Yeah… it sure is.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Now, just squeeze the trigger.”

You suck in a deep breath, arms tensing as you exhale, flinching when you pull the trigger. The pistol kicks back, jarring your joints and sending pain through your wrists. The bullet wizzes well off to the side of the can set on the old wooden post.

Your lips tug down, turning to look at Joel so he can correct where you went wrong. He smiles at the pout you throw his way, pulling away from the tree he has been leaning against.

“Good try. Let’s give it another go. This time keep your wrists locked, you need to hold through the kick. You need to get use to the sound and the feel of it, otherwise you’re gonna flinch and miss each time.”

You follow his instructions, digging your heels into the earth as you aim. The soup can catches the light, almost mocking you as you squeeze the trigger once more and miss.

“It doesn’t feel right.” You complain, switching the safety off and shoving the gun back into the holster on your hip. Joel scoffs and you roll your eyes, lifting your empty hand and pretending to shoot the same way Jules does in the movie.

Joel laughs, scooping his bag and riffle off the ground. “I’m telling you, ya ain’t gonna shoot nothing like that. Will only manage to break your wrist.”

“And what if I do?” You snip, turning to face him your glare unmatched to his own.

“You won’t.” He replies more firmly, crossing his arms over his chest as you step closer, raising your chin in defiance.

“What if I do though? Huh?” You poke his arm, a smile growing as you see the frustration rising in his face.

“Fine. You get something like that and you get to say a one liner. Alright?”

He has to look away as your grin grows to an infectious smile. “Deal.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Over the next several days you both trek through deserted roads and isolated woods, slowly working your way towards the safe house. The trip was filled with things you never imagined, trees growing straight through the road, houses and building over run with ivy vines with critters living amongst them. Even though the cause of it all was so horrendous you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it all.

Though you were moving slower than Joel was use to, he felt like it was worth it, watching how you came to life. You asked every question that popped into your head without hesitation, and he found himself enjoying answering you, recalling how the world used to work. It didn’t occur to him how easy he would find it, opening up to you, talking about this or that. He just knew that he hadn’t found peace like this in a long time with another person.

The sun is peaking high over the tree tops, making it easy to see all around in the sparsely wooded area you have stopped at for lunch. You’re lying on your stomach, head resting on your folded arm as you swish your hand through a small creek, watching how the water swirls around your palm and passes through your fingers. It’s cold and soothing, your thoughts racing away, wondering what it must be like to swim in lakes, or see the ocean for the first time. Feats you’re sure you will never accomplish, but dreams you can have as you close your eyes.

Joel can’t force himself to look away from you, you’ve captivated him completely. He knows he should stop it, kill the thought before it leads him down a path he can’t change. But it’s instinctual, every Omega brings it out in an Alpha. That sense of home. Maybe it was because he’d never spent much time with you over the years, your mother keeping you away.

But the longer Joel was around you, watching, listening, talking. He could feel it, the calmness that even a drug couldn’t smoother, of an Omegas presence…

Coughing slightly he stands from the stump he’s been perched on, “We need to get moving if we want to make it before night fall.” When you turn to look at him over your shoulder he curses wildly in his mind. Your face is soft and your eyes warm as you nod, and he knows he’s doomed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The light, joyful feeling you had through most of your trip abandons you entirely the moment the small town comes into view. A deep sense of wrong and sorrow settles into your bones as you step foot onto the streets, surrounded by haggard, foreboding buildings that remind you of monsters from old story books; ready to spring at any moment.

Riffle in hand, Joel shifts entirely before your eyes. His shoulders are tight, head on a swivel as he surveys the surrounding areas. Each step is thought out three moves ahead, a practice skill you admire as you follow behind, covering him from the back. You carry the pistol just how he has shown you, finger resting away from the trigger, your grip firm on the handle. But you wonder what good it will do should something, or someone, appear.

Fear and anxiety is a sticky concoction making it impossible to do anything but breath as you travel farther into the heart of the city.

A few more desolate streets over and Joel abruptly stops, holding his hand out for you to do the same. Your heart kicks into double time, your gaze frantically shifting from one spot to the next trying to see what he does as he draws his riffle up, looking through the scope.

You wait, body tensing preparing to hear his gun go off, before he lowers it once more. “Alright. Ya see that blue building over there?”

You look down the street and nod at the simple one story home, smaller than the rest of the houses on this street. “Teal, but yes.”

Joel gives you a sideways look that heats your cheeks. “Well the teal house is it. It’s supposed to be locked up, but that doesn’t mean a thing. You will follow me and do exactly as I do, stay quiet, and keep your eyes open. Do I make myself clear?”

Joel holds your stare as you nod, your throat working as you swallow. “Yes, okay.”

Making it across the street on quick feet Joel ascends the steps of the dilapidated white porch as you scan the streets. A moment later Joel is back, a small silver key in hand. He leads you around the house, making sure each window and the back door are firmly locked and boarded over before heading back to the front door. Once standing in a deserted living room Joel instructs you to stay by the door as he ventures deeper into the small house, his foot steps nearly indecipherable as you wait tersely, your fingers shaking around your gun.

You visibly relax when he comes out of the hallway, gun slung over his shoulder. You drop your pack to the floor, sitting down hard beside it with a sigh. “How long do you think it will be until Mark gets here?”

“Mmm… Hard to say, probably in the morning. He’s got a day longer trip than we had. How many pills ya got?” Joel leans against the window seal, squinting through the slats of wood as the sun sets in the horizon.

“Uh, just one more after tonight.” No matter how good natured you’d been there is still anxiety festering in your blood, bespite being at the halfway mark there is still so much that can go wrong from here. “Did he… did he say how much he was bringing?”

“‘Bout three months worth.”

You know that it is probably all he could get his hands on, but the dread of having to do this all over again weighs heavily on your chest.

“What did he ask for them?” You glance at your pack where the ration cards are all shoved into the side pocket, knowing that it can’t nearly be enough.

“I’ve got a gun I don’t use.” Joel comes over, groaning as he sits down next to you, happily taking the water bottle you offer.

“That… That is kind of a lot though… isn’t it?” Guilt eats away at you and Joel can hear it in your voice. He catches your eye, and there’s something in the depths of his that makes a warmth spread through your veins, soothing your worries, if only slightly.

“Ain’t too much for you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The sounds of birds echo through the empty living room with the first break of dawn, the light filling the space casting everything in its amber glow. You shuffle in your sleeping bag, groaning softly at the slight ache in your hip. The floor was unforgiving, and you wondered how Joel faired through the night.

Joel.

Your eyes fly open and you jolt up right. The room smells of dust and mildew, underneath it all the faintest smell of Joel’s scent. It should be stronger. Why isn’t it stronger? Your heart begins to thunder as you scramble out of your bag, panic setting into your bones. Where could he be? What happened to him?

You grab for your bag, ripping the zipper open to grab your gun when suddenly the front door opens. You nearly scream, falling back on your ass only to find Joel standing in the door way. Three dead rabbits clutched in one hand, his riffle slung over his back.

“You okay?” He steps in, closing and locking the door as you gape up at him.

“Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell me?” You demand as he walks over to the small fireplace, tossing the rabbits onto the floor with a wet thud.

Joel’s eyebrows knit together, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he turns away, placing his gun against the wall. “I woke you up, said I was going for food and you answered me, darlin’.”

Heat creeps up the back of your neck, your ears turning red as you stutter. “What?”

He turns, his smile growing and growing as he folds his arms across his chest. “You said, ‘Alright. Be safe.’ Ain’t my fault you fell back to sleep.” Sheepishly you glance away, taking a deep breath before you answer. Not only has Joel brought in the smell of the dirt and earth, the smell of drying blood and wet fur; but his sent encompasses it all. It soothes your panic, settles your racing heart beat and your shoulders slouch as your muscles relax.

“I’m sorry… Maybe next time make sure I’m really awake before you walk out…”

His boots thump against the floor as he walks over, he leans down, ruffling your hair with a big hand. “You worried about me, honey?” The heat leeches its way into your cheeks, embarrassed and feeling silly about the entire thing, you shrug. Joel chuckles, straightening up as he shucks off his jacket and throws it onto his sleeping bag.

“Come on now. I’ll teach you how to skin a critter while we wait. Sound good?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For all of my other stories, please refer to:

The Complete Collection: Apollyons Master List

XOXO

[blu3-ja3]

!TRIGGER WARNING!

Semi Graphic depictions of violence. There are also bones being reset. Blood.

The 141 knew O'Conner was strong. Her dead lift was the second highest for the overall base, she's able to pin most soldiers with consistency using a lot of leg work. She carries significantly more equipment than most on the team with her medical supplies bag on her back most missions. Roach has the heaviest load out with the communication equipment he carries but even he struggled with her load out.

Ghost made Roach and Soap run 5 laps with Doc's full load out after both of them thought it would be funny to pretend to blow themselves up. Doc agreed to the punishment gathering enough of her gear for them to wear. The two were quick to realize that, though O'Connor's load out didn't look bulky or cumbersome, it was how and where it was placed that made it difficult to wear. Almost all of her medical supplies sat on her hips and upper thighs, that combined with her wearing the standard tactical gear (Kevlar vest and plates, radio, extra clips, side arm, knife, and flash bangs) it was a heavy load out. The two boys found it difficult to run, having their stride and gate being affected by the extra weight. So the fact that she can keep up with them without any noticeable issues was impressive. They all knew Doc was strong ,it wasn't up for debate. Its different, though, to see numbers on a paper and to see something in action.

Task Force 141 were sent on a simple reconnaissance operation, find information on a missing British general and squadron of high ranking soldiers. The building was surrounded by multiple high rise buildings that Price and Ghost made use of by setting up two vantage points with snipers. Gaz, Roach, and Soap are in the building while O'Connor was inside near their second floor exit in order to signal outside if needed, to watch for reinforcements, and to make sure the inside team got out quickly. But there was a change in plans as multiple enemies began making their way up the three flights of stairs towards her. O'Connor scrambled out and away quickly.

"Bravo 1, this is Alpha 2, we've found the intel. Downloading now ETA 5 minutes, how we looking Alpha 4?" Gaz's voice crackled over the radio into her ear piece. O'Connor was crouched in a room hidden with a knife as she waited for the soldiers chasing her to approach.

"This is Alpha 4, not good they've noticed their sleeping friends in the back. They're not happy about me taking out more either. We may have to find another exit, Bravo 2 is the planned repo compromised?" O'Connor whispered into her mic as she moved out into the hall after slitting an enemy's throat from behind.

"Negative, Alpha 4 your exit is clear but I don't know for how long so make it quick, Alpha Team." Ghost's voice rumbled through radio as O'Connor slipped into the room with the rest of her team.

"Copy, you boys ready to get out of here?" O'Connor asked, walking into the room. She wipes her knife off on her pants, placing it into her sheath, and readjusting the strap on her ACR so it is no longer on her back. They all moved towards the door and began to move through the building. They were moving quietly hoping to not get into an engagement in these tight quarters. They kept their heads on a swivel, checking corners and rooms as they passed. O'Connor was leading with Gaz and Soap in the middle and Roach bringing up the rear.

The building shook, followed by another, then another getting closer. Heat and light flashed to the left of O'Connor as she was flung to the right hitting wall, she felt all the air leaves her lungs. Debris scattering next to her. O'Connor shook her head trying to refocus her slightly blurring vision. It pained her but in the moment she needs to focus. She could hear a voice in her ear and it took her a second to register that it was Price.

-onner? Do you copy? Boys what the hell happened? Someone bloody responded?" There's a tinge of panic in the Captain's voice.

"O'Connor reporting," she looks to her left and can see Gaz moving, good. Soap and Roach were lying close to the wall seeming crumpled over. She begins moving towards the closer of the two which would be Soap.

"One moving, two unknown. Bravo what the hell happened?" She asked before reaching down to put two fingers on the scottish man's throat. She felt relief as she felt a pulse. She moved towards Roach next.

"No idea Alpha, multiple explosions from West of the building. Multiple targets moving on location rapidly, if you're there, you have to repo quickly." Price's voice was a little less tense but there's still obvious worry.

O'Connor reached Roach and sighed feeling a pulse from the jewish man as well. She began to check for obvious wounds on all three. Gaz had a head wound and probably a concussion, Soap's right arm was broken possibly from hitting the wall, and Roach had no obvious wounds which made her very nervous. Better the injuries you can see then the ones you don't.

"Gaz? Stay still I've got to check you out," Conscious first then knocked out, O'Connor begins to triage the head wound. There's lots of blood but all head wounds bleed like crazy so it's hard to know if it's anything serious.

"Doc? What happened?" Good speech, no slurring of words either, this could simply be a surface wound but best to not risk it.

"Sergeant can you stand? Tell me honestly." O'Connor finished her work before staring into the man's eyes, checking for any signs of serious problems. Gaz is definitely concussed but they probably all are with how close that explosion was.

" Yes ma'am I can" Gaz begins to stand as O'Connor moves to the other two. Checking Soaps arm she knows she's going to have to reset it.

"Sorry Suds, this is going to hurt a lot." O'Connor ran through the steps, steadied, braced, moved, and set. After she begins the steps hearing Soap goan in pain. She closed her eyes inhaled and followed through as quickly as possible without causing more damage. Soap yelled out in pain, briefly coming to consciousness before passing back out. Most likely due to pain.

"Gaz, can you shoot? You're in no position to carry either of these two but I need to know if you can at least shoot."

"I think I can, what the fuck happened Doc?"

"I don't know, kiddo, but we've gotta be ready to move quickly out toward extraction. Get into comms and figure out what Price has planned, he's got at least some idea if not him then Ghost."

"I can shoot too Captain, just don't think I can walk alone." O'Connor whipped her head down to Soap who was currently moving to sit up more, cradling his broken arm. O'Connor reaches into her a pack on her right and pulls out a large folded cloth. She helps Soap get his arm into a sling before moving towards Roach.

Rapidly she removes the heavier equipment, she checks what she can but knows she'll have to make a decision. Taking a deep breath she removes her backpack and begins to attach Roach's equipment. She moved towards Gaz's pack, attaching what she couldn't attach to her.

"Gaz come here, I'll need you to make sure Roach doesn't slip off, I'm going to have to carry him. Soap use the wall to stand if you can, I'll be your support. You two are going to only ones able to fire. Soap check your pistol, Gaz check your ACR." O'Connor barked orders moving Roach to be propped against the wall.

Gaz moves behind O'Connor and spots her while she picks Roach up into a fireman carry, one leg resting against her back the other against her chest and he straddles her shoulder. Shifting the weight to get slightly more comfortable, O'Connor moves towards Soap. He's not putting any weight on his left leg, it's possible it's broken but it's hard to tell. She moves the left side of Soap and wraps an arm around his waist lifting up his weight for better stability.

"Alright boys let's get out of here quickly, Soap open mic my walkie, I'm going to walk us through this along with Bravo so we can better coordinate."

"Yes ma'am" Soap says as O'Connor hears the click of open mic.

"Price, we're moving, Roach is MIA; unresponsive, Gaz and Soap are responsive. We'll be moving towards our previous repo position unless there's a safer route to extraction? How copy?"

"Affirmative, Doc we'll keep overwatch until you reach us and we can move towards extraction. Be aware there's possibly more explosives, be careful."

They begin to move, continuing down the hall before reaching the stair case they approached from. Soap leaned heavily against O'Connor as they moved down the stairs, moving slowly. They all freeze as multiple footsteps rush around beside them. Gaz slowly approached the slightly cracked open door. He shakes his head before motioning to continue further down.

"Ghost, can we get out through the lowest level?"

"I'll guide you through but be advised you'll be leaving towards the north. Evacuation is to the south."

"Just get us out of here we'll deal with that when we get to it."

Once down on the lowest floor, Ghost begins to guide the team. They eventually get to a set of double cellar doors, they swing open revealing two silhouettes. Gaz and Soap raise their weapons before the two familiar voices of Ghost and Price are heard. Soap is handed off for Ghost to assist as they quickly make their way towards their exit.

O'Connor checks Roach more thoroughly on the boeing finding many bruises and a dislocated shoulder. The man stirred awake minutes after exiting their cellar escape. She knows all of them are in for one hell of a night because it's highly likely they all have some form of concussion. After Roach was made comfortable, Doc moved to check Soap's leg, due to the swelling she has reason to believe his knee was tweaked and nothing was broken. Double checking Gaz to find no missed injuries thankfully.

It's then that she lets the fatigue settle in, feeling all the heavy equipment and strain from carrying Roach on her shoulders across rough terrain. She looks up as Ghost approaches her and she gives him a smile.

"Come on, someone's got to check you out ma'am. Let me help you get your equipment off." She nods slowly lifting and removing her vest and packs. She groans in pain as she takes deeper breath than normal.

"I think I cracked something when I hit that wall."

"You feel comfortable enough to remove your shirt Doc?"

O'Connor winces as she moves to lift her shirt and removes it, setting it next to her. She's left in her black compression bra. She looks down at herself but can't see the culprit of the pain. She shifts forward and turns herself so her back is easily visible. She can hear Gaz sharply inhaling.

"That bad huh?"

She feels gloved hands gently prodding her back, ribs, and shoulder. Every press causes her to hiss and gasp, her knuckles turning white as she squeezed her turtle neck. She heard Ghost grunt out a possible diagnosis before moving away.

" I think most of us will be hanging around the base until we get the all clear." Soap grumbles.

O'Connor hums an affirmative before gasping in pain while pulling her shirt back on. Making a mental note to find help cutting her bra off. Price's boots appeared in her field of view. She looks up to see he's holding his knife, giving her a knowing smile. She felt relief as the back of her shirt was lifted and she heard the ripping of fabric. She sighed in relief as the last bit of restrictive fabric was cut.

"Sorry sergeant but yes we're not leaving base anytime soon," O'Connor stated as she leaned back and cringed at the instant pain. She felt her body succumbing to exhaustion

"Oi Maevis, come on tell me about the tattoo you want MacTavish to draw for you, ya?" O'Connor's eyes flew open looking towards Price, she nodded and began to talk. Knowing that Price was trying to keep her awake.

Ghost and Price kept concussion watch until they landed back at base; Echo Point: Bastion. They guide the members into medical, before going back and grabbing everyone's gear and taking it to their respective quarters.

Everyone sat together in briefing after getting wrapped up and given a go ahead. Laswell was happy to hear about the information they'd recover and Price told everyone they're on temporary leave.

COD Master List

[darling-heffron]

Hey look at me remembering to post on a Saturday!! I think this is my favourite moodboard I have made, I do love a pinterest hunt for certain pics I have in mind (no one look at my search history). Sol and I have been super busy so we have kinda lost momentum with writing. (Writing blocks have me in a slump 😫) Please enjoy this chapter!! Love you guys xx

Sol ☀️ and Esra ✨

Taglist: @malarkgirlypop , @mellow-human , @next-autopsy if anyone else wants to be added, please let us know!!

Chapter Eleven: Sleepless Nights of Sam

Sam’s POV:

“Abby, no-don’t.” Sam called out as she made her way towards the girl who turned around to smile at her. 

It played in slow motion, her boot finally coming in contact with the ground before a blast of light and heat knocked Sam back. 

The blonde lay on the ground gasping for air that wasn’t making its way into her lungs. The ringing was all she could hear, she couldn’t force her limbs to move as she stared up at the sky that now was slowly filling with smoke.   

Finally she was able to fill her lungs and make enough sense of the situation to sit up. That’s when her hearing started to fade in again. It was filled with screams of agony. 

Sam got to her feet and stumbled towards the scene that played in front of her. She made her way closer to the hazy mass that laid on the floor. As she walked she tripped on a solid object causing her to fall to her knees. Sam glanced down and let out a gasp of horror, it wasn’t an object that had tripped her, but someone’s unattached leg. She leapt away from it, then she rushed forward. It was the mass on the ground that screamed with such pain it caused Sam’s heart to squeeze in agony. 

“Help me!” It was Abby, her voice was unmistakable. “Please, help me!” She continued to beg as Sam arrived at her side. 

“Oh, fuck.” The blonde mumbled taking in her comrades' appearance. Abby had been halved literally. 

The place where the rest of her legs should’ve resided now was empty. Pools of blood gathered beneath her, she choked and spluttered on the crimson that filled her throat. 

Sam gathered the girl into her arms. “Base, base, this is Foxtrot Alpha, we’ve been hit. I repeat we’ve been hit. One casualty. Position outer edge, I repeat our position is outer edge. We need medical immediately. Over.” The girl hastily reported the information into the radio fastened to her shoulder.   

“Rodger, Foxtrot Alpha. ETA 10 minutes. Over.” The radio crackled back. 

“Base, base, we need more urgent care, send in a bird. Over.” Sam debated.  

“No can do, FA, we can’t reveal our position. Over.” The man replied. 

“We just got fucking blown up, our position has already been revealed!” Sam yelled down the receiver. The radio didn’t answer back. 

The blonde quickly got to work tourniqueting both of Abby’s legs to slow the blood loss. 

“Sam. I’m cold.” The girl didn’t move but her hand reached out trying to find the older blonde. Sam made her way back to her side, there was nothing else medically she could do for her. She again bundled the girl into her lap and stroked her hair. 

“Everything is fine, Abby. They’ll be here soon.” She tried to reassure the young girl. 

“I’m tired.” The brunette whispered, her eyes fluttering closed. 

“No, no. Abby, you have to stay awake. Look at me, open your eyes and look at me.” Sam begged her hand gently tapping the girl’s cheek to keep her attention. 

“Sam?” Abby asked gently. 

“Yeah, what is it?” The older girl leant down to hear her better. 

Abby reached up and with shaky fingers pulled her dog tags from inside her top. “Can you give this to my Mum? Tell her I love her, ok?” Tears rolled down her cheeks and into her hair. 

“Abby, you give it to her yourself when you get home.” Sam shook her head and pushed away the necklace she offered her.  

“You and I both know that isn’t going to happen.” Abby smiled weakly. A whimper escaped Sam’s lips. 

“It’s ok Sam.” The dying girl reassured the older woman. “How could we have known?” 

Somehow the girl had read Samantha’s mind, it was her patrol that she was supposed to do, but Abby had offered instead, and she let her. Sam let her go, knowing it was her responsibility. It was her fault that the girl now lay in the middle of an abandoned town halfway across the world from her home dying.

“I’m glad it was me.” Abby’s bloodied hand reached up to rub away the tears that had escaped Sam’s eyes without her knowing. “Tell my mum, ok, you tell her she was my last thought.” 

“Sam!!” The blonde was shaken awake. A gasp left her lips as she sat bolt upright. 

“Are you ok?” A concerned looking Mars knelt beside her, “You were screaming in your sleep.” 

The older girl must’ve fallen asleep completely, she hadn’t had that dream in years. Sam clutched at her racing heart. 

“Bad dream. Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you.” She apologised noting it was still dark out, the fire was in its last stages of life, so it must’ve been early morning. 

“You’ve never had a bad dream before.” Mars whispered, she had woken up in a panic hearing the cries of the older girl. 

“Cause I don’t sleep.” Sam confessed. The younger girl’s brows furrowed in concern. 

“Like ever? How are you alive?” Mars asked scooting closer so the two could whisper. 

The taller girl let out a sigh before replying, “My mum left when I was five, I stopped being able to fall completely asleep. Any noise would wake me, it could have been the quietest noise but I would still hear it.” 

Mars laid her hand on her friend's knee and nodded, signalling for her to continue. 

“I would wake when my father would get home. It was like clock work, my body would jolt me awake at the sound of his keys in the door. From then on I never fell deeply asleep. That’s why we never did watches, cause I knew if I heard something I would wake up.” Sam dragged her hand down her face.

“When I was little, if I ever fell into a deep sleep it would be plagued with gruesome nightmares, things that haunted me, my biggest fears.” The older girl admitted. She had never told anyone about her sleeping habits or the terrible nightmares she suffered from. 

“My brain protects me and never lets me sleep fully.” Sam had been through enough trauma in her life to make the nightmares she had the worst, worse than any horror movie she had ever watched. Her experiences were far more terrifying.  

“Who’s Abby?” Mars asked in a soft tone, craning her neck down trying to see the older girl’s face in the dim light of the morning.

“I’ll tell you another time.” 

Mars didn’t push, this was the most the older girl had ever shared about her past, and though it was awful to hear, Mars was glad she felt safe enough to let her in. 

“Get some sleep before we have to be up again.” Sam nudged Marleen back to her own bed and tucked her in when she lay down. 

“Will you sleep?” The younger girl asked, peering her head out from her blanket. 

“See you in the morning, Bam.” And with that the older girl rolled over and laid down. She waited for Marleen to fall back to sleep before she slipped out of the tent. 

Samantha prodded the dying fire with a stick, there was no chance of her lying back down and trying to rest, she had had enough excitement for one night. 

“Can’t sleep?” A voice pulled her from her thoughts. She whipped around readying herself for a fight. 

“Woah! It’s just me.” Shifty held out his hand showing he meant no harm. 

“Sorry, force of habit.” The girl excused her jumpy nature. The young man sat himself beside Sam, not close enough that they were touching, but not far enough away she didn’t feel his warmth. 

“Why are you up?” Sam asked him. 

“Someone wouldn’t quit snoring.” He gestured his head backwards towards the tent that him and Lip shared. Loud growling noises came from inside the shelter. “I mean, is he starting a car?” 

Sam couldn’t help but laugh, it did sound exactly like an old car failing to rev to life. 

“Plus I heard some commotion coming from over your way.” Shifty looked back over to the tent where Sam had left the flap open a tad to see in and make sure Mars was ok. 

“Sorry, that would’ve been me.” Sam went back to prodding the fire with her stick, her knees curled up into her chest as she rested her chin on them. 

“It’s ok, no one really sleeps well now.” Shifty grabbed his own stick as she shuffled around the hot coals mimicking the girl he sat beside. “I’m used to it though. Reminds me of hunting trips with my Dad. You never really slept the best, always had an ear out for the creatures.”

There was a beat of silence between the pair. Before Sam worked up the courage to ask. 

“Where is your Dad?” She didn’t want it to be bad news but the way the young man spoke about him with such love she wanted to know more. 

She watched as Shifty’s smile faded and she cursed silently under her breath. Nice one Sam.

“I didn’t get home in time. I was driving to get him. I had everything packed and ready, the car was fueled, all I needed was him. Then when I got home I looked everywhere. Last place I looked I found him. Maybe if I had looked there first I could’ve got to him in time. But he was much older than the other parents. I was an accident, a happy one, but still not planned.”

“All that hunting had got to his hearing, why he was always so strict with us kids about wearing our protection. I guess he didn’t hear it coming. The beast had slaughtered him from behind, ripped his neck clean open, killed him in the process. He didn’t even come back as one of them. I didn’t really have time to mourn cause the beast tried to come for me next, I fought him off but then.” Shifty swallowed. 

“Then Mama got home from school, she was a teacher, she came out back and called for us. Distracted the thing and it charged for her. And I missed, the one shot I should’ve never failed, and I missed. It got her, and then-” He quickly wiped away the tears that streaked down his cheeks. 

“I didn’t have the heart. That was my Mama. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her, even if it wasn’t her anymore. So I left. The car didn’t last long, everyone else was driving like crazy, caused me to be run off the road. Grabbed what I could carry and now here I am.” 

“I’m so sorry, Shifty.” The man seemed so lovely and sweet, Sam felt awful making him relive that day. 

“I’m sure everyone has had a pretty awful time.” The young man sniffed. “I’m just glad I found those guys.” 

“Yeah, they seem nice.” Sam nodded. 

They fell back into comfortable silence until the sun rose fully, and the birds in the trees chirped loudly. 

The rest of the group slowly made their way from their tents. Everyone packed down quickly and ate before they were off moving again. 

Moving through the Susquehannock state forest wasn’t easy, thankfully Shifty seemed to know the woods well. The terrain was difficult and treacherous at times, there were pros and cons to this. It meant no one else was up there with them, but it was hard work and dangerous. The days were long, climbing up and down steep hills and fighting through thick bush that had never been trekked before. 

It took them longer than it would’ve to go around the state forest, but this offered them safety in a way. 

The weather was unpredictable as well, the mountains were high and when a storm moved in it was fast and vicious. Often the group was caught unawares, scrambling for cover from the weather. 

But Shifty was able to lead them through the state forest, stopping them from getting lost multiple times in the dense brush that had them turned around. 

“Girls!” Lip called to the two ladies who walked ahead of the group. Mars paused her conversation to turn and look over her shoulder, Lip was signalling for them to stop. 

Mars and Sam made their way back towards the group which had paused. 

“Everyone alright?” Marleen asked as her eyes scanned over the men, looking for any signs of distress. 

“We’re pretty low on supplies, we'll need to make a stop in the next city if we can.” Shifty said. 

It took less than a day to trek to Emporium, so they had an hour or two to search the town for supplies. Food and water were always the first priority- anything else was a bonus. 

The five of them managed to clear several abandoned buildings, but only found a few odd cans of food and a single bottle of water. 

The light was fading and the decision was made to set up camp in an empty house. 

“You guys get some sleep first, Sam and I will take the first watch.” Marleen offered up, she took note of the annoyed look Sam shot her but chose to ignore it. 

The girls took their post in the living room while the three men chose to sleep in one of the bedrooms, leaving the other empty. 

“So…” Marleen prompted her friend. Sam kept silent, giving her a blank look.

“What do you think of them?” Mars continued after realising Sam wasn’t planning on starting up a conversation. Before the older woman could answer, Marleen spoke up again, “They’re pretty cool, right?” 

Samantha shrugged which caused her younger companion to roll her eyes in jest. 

“I know you don’t like people-“ Mars scooted across the couch so she sat directly next to Sam, “But I think we should stay with them.” Her voice was soft like she was testing the boundaries. 

Mars noticed Sam’s facial expression twist and quickly added, “I know Denver, he’s a good guy! Plus Lip and Shifty are both really smart. We probably wouldn't have made it through that forest without them.” Her words tumbled out in one breath. 

“Okay.”

“Wait, I really think- uh wha… did you just say okay?” Her mouth hung open. Mars was expecting more of a fight from her tall friend. She wanted so badly to follow up with a whole bunch of questions but didn’t want Sam to change her mind or take it back so she did her very best to stay quiet. 

“These guys are…decent.” Sam managed to say, straining as if the words hurt to say. 

“Woah, was that a compliment?” Marleen teased, grinning at Samantha.

The older girl turned her head away to hide the smallest of smiles from her easily excitable friend. 

Was this a new leaf the older girl had turned?

——————————

Morning broke over the small town, the girls both rose with the sun. It had become their new norm. 

The boys had already packed since they were on the later watch together. 

“You girls ready?” Shifty poked his head into the room the pair occupied.  

“We sure are, Shifty!” Mars replied every so cheerily. 

“Well isn’t someone chipper for a 6 o’clock start.” The young man noted, sending a bright smile back to the petite girl who grinned up at him. Her smile was infectious. 

“Yeah, too happy.” Sam observed, looking over the suspiciously joyful blonde, “What’s got you so excited?” 

“Nothing!” Mars’ high pitched sing-songy voice told the older girl otherwise. But the younger of the two kept her mouth shut about what had made her so excited. 

“Just excited for a brand new day.” The girl bounced to her feet. As the older one groaned. 

“Don’t go all disney princess on me Bam, I think that may actually kill me!” Sam mocked being stabbed in the heart, letting her eyes roll back in her head and she stuck her tongue out to the side. 

Mars swatted the older girl. “Sam! Don’t” The young girl pretended to do CPR on the tall lady. 

“You guys are on a new level of strange.” Shifty laughed at the pair's antics.  

“We need more supplies, we hardly got any from this town.” The trio had walked into Lip complaining as he rummaged through his gear. 

“I agree.” Bull nodded, his head lifted as the group entered the once nicely furnished lounge that now was a wreck. 

“Girls, how did you sleep?” Denver asked. 

“Very well, Denver!” Mars skipped over to him as she slung her arm around his shoulders, he knelt on the ground so the short girl was able to reach them. If he was standing she would’ve had to jump. 

“We think we should stop at the next town over. We barely got enough to last us more than a few days.” Lipton shared his thoughts with the group. 

“I think so too.” Sam nodded, they had only been able to obtain one bottle of water that was not going to last very long. They needed to restock. 

The next town over was Johnsonburg, 30 miles away, they would be able to make it to the edge of town by nightfall.

After an 11 hour walk they had made it to the outskirts of Johnsonburg. Mars perched on a flat log that laid on the ground. 

“Will we set up camp and go in tomorrow?” She asked as she took a sip from her bottle. The group had moved relatively fast and she was tired. 

“I think that’s best.” Lip stood beside her looking out into the distance. “We don’t want to be tired going into the town. Best we get some shut eye and food into us. Then tomorrow we take Johnsonburg.” Lipton propped his foot on top of the log that Mars sat on, he looked like an explorer, with his hands on his hips and a tall stance. 

“Ok Christopher Columbus, cool it.” Sam had arrived behind the pair. Lipton laughed at Sam’s comparison. 

“Let’s get a small fire started.” Bull announced sending everyone to work. 

—----------------------------------------------

“Shifty, is it clear your way?” Sam asked as she glanced around her corner trying to find any signs of life or death. 

“Yeah all clear.” He whispered from next to her. “Call ‘em through.” Sam signalled from over her shoulder calling the rest of the group forward to where they stood. 

The three other’s slowly appeared from the brush they had been hiding in. They crouched behind Sam and Shifty who were currently leading the scope through the small town. 

“Let’s go.” The duo moved together in unison, they each took a side as they swept their surroundings. 

The group moved slowly through the small city, they had found a few abandoned stores with more goods than they found in the last one. 

“Is everyone happy with their haul?” Shifty looked around the group as people stashed items into their bags. 

“Right, we should move out. Then we can do a stock take and see what we want to do from there.” Bull informed the rest of his peers who agreed. 

And just like that the group set off; Mars, still in her spectacular mood, skipped ahead of the others. She sang to herself, mumbling the words as if she didn’t quite know them. 

The distance Marleen was putting between herself and the rest of the crowd was starting to concern Samantha. 

“Stop skipping, Bambi.” The older girl told her younger peer. 

“I won’t trip this time!” The excitable blonde called over her shoulder, not slowing her pace or watching we’re she was going- a dangerous combination. 

Especially when rounding a corner. 

“Wait! Mars!” Sam had seen the shorter girls path and just knew something was coming. She began jogging to catch up with her companion but it was too late.

Marleen had smacked straight into something and fallen flat on her ass. 

“Mars!” Sam’s jog turned into a run, her only thought was getting to the girl and protecting her from whatever evil she may have encountered. 

The footsteps of the men in their group followed her and Sam drew her gun, preparing for the worst. 

“Mars, are you-“ The tall blonde wasn’t able to finish her sentence, she cut herself off when she noticed the presence of other humans. 

Instinctively, her arms raised up and aimed her weapon their way. 

“Who the fuck are you?” She growled out, eyes squinting into a menacing glare. 

There were three of them- three men. 

One sat in the same position as Marleen, rubbing a spot on his head. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that he and Mars had- quite literally- run into each other. 

Sam rushed to the young blonde and used one hand to grab ahold of her arm and heaved her upwards until she was on her feet. 

Her other hand still pointed the loaded gun at these strangers. 

“I told you to stop skipping.” Sam's voice was low, almost threatening as she told off the recovering woman. 

Mars looked down, slightly embarrassed but didn’t open her mouth to speak, instead pouting like a child. It made Sam feel like she was a mother telling off her excitable child who refused to listen. 

One of the other men mirrored Sam’s actions, shuffling closer to his fallen friend and picking him up. He also sent the younger man a scolding look- something told Sam he had been doing something similar to Mars when they crashed into each other. 

“Sorry about that. Purely accidental, it won’t happen again, right Luz?” The oldest stranger spoke, his last words were aimed at his companion, who scratched the back of his neck and nodded.

“We’re not looking for any trouble, okay?” The oldest told Sam, raising his hands to her as he eyed up her gun, “We’ll just be on our way. No harm done.” 

“Wait, Martin! Maybe they could help us?” The third man finally spoke up. 

“Yeah, maybe they know about Idaho?” ‘Luz’ added. The two shorter men flanked the leader of their little trio- Martin. 

“No, I don’t think-“ But Martin never finished. 

“What do you need help with?” Marleen's sweet voice sounded. Sam wanted to slap a hand over the girl's mouth; how could she be so trusting of literal strangers? 

Sam still had her gun out, pointing towards the newcomers but she had noticed they weren’t copying her actions. She wasn’t sure if that should settle her nerves or not and decided to keep her weapon drawn, just in case. 

“We got robbed a couple days ago.” The brown haired Luz offered up. He got a dirty look from Martin but completely ignored it. 

“Yeah, they took all our food and water.” The third guy added on. 

“We’ve been going from building to building trying to find something but it looks like this whole town has been looted.” Luz continued. 

“Oh my gosh! That’s so rude, they didn’t leave you anything? I mean, how hard is it to look for supplies for yourself? No, they had to steal it from you guys? Unbelievable.” The young blonde said, her emotions were plastered on her face, easy to read. 

Sam could tell where this was heading and tried to shut it down before Mars started to work herself up. 

“Marleen. No.” Sam’s voice was stern and her look was even sterner but Marleen wasn’t even fazed. She pouted at her friend and pushed her eyebrows together, silently pleading with the older woman. Sam shook her head but Mars only stuck her bottom lip out more before mouthing ‘please’. 

That had Sam rolling her eyes in defeat. She glanced over at the men they had been travelling with and saw no qualms. 

“Fine. But only because we just stocked up, we can’t afford to do this every time we meet strays.” Sam had to put her foot down, but let the matter slide for just this one time. 

“Hi!” Mars jumped ahead and was already shaking hands with the men, she hadn’t even waited for confirmation from the older lady before introducing herself.

“I’m Marleen, call me Mars, pleased to meet you guys!” She shook the hand of the man who had bumped into her, so hard his whole arm moved. He mirrored her action, shaking her back with vigour.

“George Luz, but everyone calls me handsome.” He threw a charming smile over Mars’ shoulder to Sam who visibly cringed at the terrible line. 

“Luz.” Martin, the older man, growled. 

“What? I was just introducing myself.” George grinned as he sauntered over to the taller woman. 

“What might your name be?” The shorter man purred as he picked up Sam’s hand from her side. 

“Uninterested.” Sam snatched her hand away as she saw Luz craning his neck down to kiss the back of it. 

“That’s Sam. She isn’t that friendly to newcomers.” Mars introduced the girl, knowing she wouldn’t do it herself and the male members of the group nodded in agreement. 

“Enchanté.” George didn’t seem all that fazed at the displeasure that the tall woman wore on her face.  

Sam stepped back from the interested man, all he did was smile up at her undeterred by her indifference. 

“Johnny Martin, you can call me Martin.” The older man stepped forward and politely shook Marleen's hand, “And this here is Perco.” He gestured behind him. 

“Frank Perconte.” The short man waved to the group who nodded back in greeting. 

“Ok, enough with the introductions. We’re exposed here and it’s getting dark. We need to move.” Sam’s eyes scoured their surroundings, the coast appeared clear but it could be easily changed in a heartbeat. 

“Bossy. I like it.” Luz smirked at the stern woman. Marleen couldn’t help but giggle at the look on Sam’s face. 

“Let’s go.” Sam said to the group, ignoring the chocolate haired man. The taller girl made sure to secure Marleen’s hand before she stalked off, hand in hand with her grinning companion. 

Oof another gut punching chapter, poor Sam has seen some shit. But then we got more boys whoop whoop. Luz and Mars are gonna be besties I can tell!! And Sam is gonna be pissed that there is now two Mars' lmaooooo!! We also got the lovely Martin who is so Fatherly, which we love, these girls need some guidance. And we have the cutie patootie which is Perco, someone get this man a toothbrush and toothpaste stat!!!!!

All my love Esra ✨

[queenhunter102]

Part 20

Hello, Apologies for the lateness of part twenty, as it took me some time as I wanted to decide how I wanted this chapter to end and how I wanted it to continue, and I know this chapter isn't four thousand words Like I said, but I decided to create four chapters out of it, as I wanted to explore where the story could go, but anyways please do enjoy the this chapter.

Kyle huffed as he dodged a fist that came from behind him it clenched tight “Pass these out Gaz” Simon said barely giving Kyle the time to catch whatever it was into his hand before his hand disappeared as quickly as it came.

Once Kyle had caught the items he looked at them finding them to be little black ear pieces “Oh man why have they given us the shitty ones” he mutters as he passes them out to you and Johnny, you look at him confused as you slip your bud in, listening to it crackle into a frequency.

“That’s shite,” Johnny said, as he put his in you watched as he winced as the frequency hit his ears “Och Cap’ is there any need for the freq,” he asked as he pulled at his ear trying to lessen the irritation from the frequency.

“Captain Wells is holding the good stuff hostage until we either trade Ven or we get rid of Ven and since I don’t believe in caving to tyrants or trading flesh for goods, we’re stuck with this” John said as he drove, the boys grumble clearly a little annoyed at Wells.

“Where is Alejandro?” you ask, as you pull any strands of hair that may have got trapped between your ear and the piece, Johnny and Kyle went silent their eyes flicking between themselves and then you, before they slightly turned their heads to look at Simon and John over their shoulder.

“He was having medical issues, So he’s back at the base while it gets investigated further, but don’t worry he’s handling the coms and the camera,” Simon said, you nodded your head before your earpiece crackled and Alejandro’s voice came over “Is a sweet omega missing me?” he asked, his voice sounding rough and out of breath.

“Hardly just making sure you weren’t dead or anything” came Simon’s rough reply, You watched as John and Kyle tried to hide their smiles and choked laughs, with their hands as they fiddled with their gear.

“What is this mission about Cap I know it’s mostly recon?” you ask, as you slide to the edge of your seat “It’s simple Venom, there is some research that was stolen and we are to recover and if we can destroy what we can,” John said, as the vehicle made a sharp turn.

“Do we know, what we are looking for?” Johnny asked, as he turned his head to the front “Not as of right now, we will receive more information once we reach base” Simon responded.

“Base? I thought this was going to be a quick mission” you said, as you watched Kyle play with his uniform, “Like I said Captain Wells won’t give us good missions” John said, as the vehicle came to a stop, Johnny and Kyle grumble as the climb out of the car, “Great we get shitty cots and we got an omega to care for” Kyle muttered.

“HEY!” You called back, “I take offence to that" you shout “Sorry Ven, it was hard enough to keep you safe with Alpha we knew let alone ones who have gone possible months without contact from outside their moon pack” Kyle says, as he walks to the boot of the vehicle.

You grumbled as you followed him “So? there was no need to pick on my status” You said as you helped pull out bags, You jumped a little when John’s hand clasped your shoulder, “He’s right Venom, we gotta keep a tighter reign on you now” he said, as he picked up his bag, you grumbled at the mention of being on a tighter reign, they talk as if you were free roaming the first place.

The five of you make your way into the small base, you eye a few of the tents that are dotted around the small area, feeling like thousands of eyes have found their way to and are devouring you at every opportunity, you turn your head to a tent furthest away from the lot only to see a flash of…well something dart back inside of the tent, you shifted your shoulders a little.

feeling uneasy was common for an omega, especially around alphas they didn’t know, nor were they a part of their packs, But this was abnormal it looked as though the place was deserted, Johnny pulled you closer to him wrapping an arm over your shoulder almost like he could sense your discomfort and your worry, then again he probably could, he was one of two who were the most attentive, with you.

As the group marched deeper and deeper into the base Kyle pulled up beside John, whispering something to him before turning his head to you, Simon and Johnny, John nodded his head as he came to a stop turning to you, his voice barely above a whisper “You got something to hide your scent?” he asked, his hands digging into your pockets “I’m wearing my patch does that cover-” you were cut off by Kyle his voice a little strained “No, you still smell like an omega an un-rutted omega but still an omega” he said, as he dropped his bag and pulled out a shirt from his bag and tossing it at you.

You snatched it pulling it close trying desperately to resist the urge to swim in his smell “Wrap that around your waist under your shirt quick” He said as he fixed his bag back onto his shoulders, you quickly followed his instructions tying the shirt around your waist and pulling your shirt back down, “I don’t think-” Johnny begins to say before he was cut off by a much deeper and growler voice.

“Captain John Price and his little team of misfits I never thought I would see you on one of my bases after what happened last time” the voice had said, you looked up to find a tall lanky man who appeared to be in his late thirties if not early forties, the hair slowly greying from it’s natural brown, skin mottled from different tans, as well as a few bruises some looking a little fresher than the others, “Sargent Evans, When did they let you out of nomads?” John asked as he walked closer to the man.

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Part 19 / Part 21

See you around, my little loves.

Kissess.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Oh, Love: Alpha!Gladiolus Amicitia x Omega!Reader

Contains: Miscarriage, flashbacks containing blood, brief mentions of hospitals, not taking care of yourself, just sad stuff in general :(

It wasn’t fair.

You lay helplessly on your side, surrounded by the nest that once brought you such warmth and comfort now turned into a horrible cage that suffocated you endlessly. What were once blankets and forgotten shirts of your mate’s now taunted you with their scent, especially the leftovers from months ago. It haunted you to your core to the point that your very bones felt like they would turn to dust should the Astrals will them to.

The Astrals.

You wept into the nest, sweat-soaked body shivering at the chill in the room as you thought about the six of them. Had you had done something to upset them so? In this life or your past ones? It was the only reason you could fathom for the cruelty that had just laid you out to rot. It felt as though you had been stripped completely naked before their very godly eyes and judged.

And you lost their verdict.

You were well out of tears, you’ve been fresh out for days at this point. Your eyes felt as though you had left them to dry in Hammerhead, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth with the unsatisfactory taste of bile and unbrushed teeth clinging to the dry cavity. You couldn’t will yourself to climb out of your nest, barely able to even get up for the bathroom let alone take care of any of your other needs, and at this point, you were starting to smell like something really was rotting away in the nursery. You had been home for a little less than a week, your body was still sticky in some areas from medical tape and such, well-worn bandages and gauze were still stuck to your person and you really didn’t care to rip them off right now.

You squeezed your eyes shut as another dry sob tore through your body, turning your head to bury the sound into the floor of the nest. You clawed at your shoulders, nails biting through the thin fabric of one of your mate’s shirts. Normally, it was big on you, draping down and acted like a flowy nightdress, but it was bigger; Both from your stretching it as you curled up into a ball and tucked your legs inside and the fact that you were losing weight from simply not eating at all. You did it again, tucking your knees as far as they could go to your chin and trembled like you were left out in the freezing rains, inhaling your mate’s strong scent that heavily lingered.

His smell is normally enough to calm you down tremendously, but it didn’t do shit now.

It made you feel even worse, really.

How could you lose it? How could you lose his baby? How could you be so careless?

If you had just took better care of yourself…

‘These things happen,’ the voice of one of the Citadel’s doctors echoed in your head. ‘It’s not common that they happen nowadays, but it still does.’

It had to have been your fault.

How could he ever trust you let alone look at you again?

His footsteps were light, they’ve been light since the moment he could sniff out you were pregnant with his child, but he walked on even more fragile eggshells now. You could hear him descend the stairs, stilling your choked up breathing as you hiccuped softly, unscrewing your reddened eyes to focus only to close them when you heard him start for the door of the nursery once more today.

He knocked softly, the floorboards creaking under his bulky weight. His strong scent wafted from underneath the crack of the door. His scent had turned when you had miscarried, it wasn’t as strong. He normally smelled like a freshly lit campfire crackling away at tinder amongst the sweat he normally carried on his person, and it always did wonders for you. But now? That fire was put out, embers dying, smoke dissipating; Like someone - or something, damned Astrals - had taken the bucket of water to it after getting chewed out by a park ranger.

He waited for you to respond, he always did, even before you both mated. He knocked again a little louder when you didn’t respond.

“(Y/n)?” his voice croaked out from the other side. You couldn’t will yourself to speak, only letting out a pathetic whimper as freshly churned tears started to prickle at the corners of your eyes. The door creaked open as he slowly opened it, the smell of him suddenly enveloped you in a tight embrace to the point it nearly made you choke on nothing. “Oh, love,” he crooned.

Despite how worried he sounded, he had to have been mocking you. Right?

Right?

He stepped towards you slowly before he stopped right at the nest. You had built it after your heat hit unexpectedly while he was away with Noctis on a trip to an allied nation. He came home a few days later, able to smell your heat from the car before he even got out. It awoke something primal inside of him, yanking his rut into the light. He stormed through the house like a sex-crazed beast and yanked open the door to the nursery you’ve both longed to fill since the second you both mated nearly one year ago, clothes off, eyes lit aflame as he pounced. You both never bothered to take the nest apart, something inside of you needed it to stay up for as long as possible.

You could guess that your body knew all along that you’d fail.

What good was an omega who couldn’t have babies? Especially when the alpha was the shield of the future king?

Gladio toed off his boots and stepped into the nest, quickly getting on his knees behind you. He brought one big hand up to your hip, rubbing deep circles into the skin as he tried to assess you the best he could. You saw the look he wore out of the corner of your eye; Pure worry plastered on his chiseled face.

He wasn’t mad at you for losing your baby?

“How’re doing?” he murmured softly. Those two words were the straw that broke the spiracorn’s back. The flood gates reopened- no, they broke open. The cement walls you had been trying to patch up the past week suddenly exploded as you started to sob your eyes out once again. Gladio suddenly looked shocked and then horribly pained, not meaning to cause such anguish. He gripped at you, firm hands stopping you from completely curling in on yourself as you felt your entire world shift once again on its axis. “Shit- (Y/n), I’m so sorry, I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry more. (Y/n), baby, please.”

You’ve never seen him so shaken up until that night. You were barely into your second trimester, finally getting over the throes of morning sickness as excitement bubbled wildly inside of the two of you. Everything was so perfect until you suddenly awoke in the middle of the night to a horrible pain stinging your lower back as an unbearable pressure took hold of your core. He’d never heard you cry like that before, waking up from a dead sleep as your nails sank into him. When he flicked the lamp on, he felt as though he had been stabbed in the heart when he saw red blooming from the sheets beneath you.

Red.

Just thinking about that color made your throat tense and chin quiver, a sickening nausea rolling in as you tried to take stable breaths.

He gripped onto you harder, large hands splaying across your trembling skin as he shushed you softly. One of his hands rested on your waist, rocking you back and forth a bit to help calm you down, fingers digging in deep to the soft muscles to help ground you.

“(Y/n),” he crooned deeply. The sudden smell of campfires and nature bled into your nose despite your constant sniffling, but it wasn’t overpowering and primal like it was months ago during his spurred on rut. It wasn’t sexual- of course it wasn’t - but calming, like the nights of a camping trip gone right, a freshly lit fire campfire to round out the night, to keep you warm and comfortable in your tent. It did something, allowing the slightest bit of pain to ebb away from your heart as something fuzzy and warm settled in the back of your mind. “(Y/n), answer me,” he urged softly, kneading your body a little harder.

Your face suddenly twisted with grief again as another pitiful whimper racked your shoulders, your lips pulling back and you were left mumbling and babbling.

“I’m so sorry,” you were able to choke out before you felt yourself curl into a tight, quivering ball.

It pained him to see you this way, his senses burning with a desire to make things right by you some way and some how. He couldn’t deny the tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes and the way his breath caught in the back of his throat. He wasn’t one to cry. He’s been upset before, plenty of times, but the last time he really cried was when his mother passed when he and Iris were still young, never really being driven to up until now. The death of his unborn child and his omega taking it horribly weighed heavily on his shoulders.

The way you stopped taking care of yourself, the way you cried behind the closed door, the way you practically sealed yourself in the nursery to torture yourself even more. He needed to help you get better.

“This isn’t your fault,” he crooned. “We can always try again when we’re both ready.”

“G-Gladio-”

Gladio moved, deciding that this position wouldn’t do you both much good. He sank one hand underneath you, fingers curling around your shirt as he gripped at your clothed hip. You groaned in protest, fingers curling into the floor of the nest as you thought he was picking you up to take you away from this damned room, as a pitiful cry bubbled up to the surface. You only shut up when he moved you towards the edge and set you down gently before he laid down right behind you.

You found yourself suddenly draped in a blanket of safety as Gladio draped one of his burly arms over your waist and drew your back as close as he could to his front. He nosed at your jaw, urging you to tilt your head to the side as he quickly buried his face in your throat. He purred softly, pressing sweet kisses to your supple skin. He pressed an even deeper kiss to where he marked you.

You could still feel it, when he sank his teeth in your neck and claimed you as his own omega.

And he was your alpha.

Your alpha that was now taking care of you as you slowly stopped your weeping and started drifting off inside of your old nest with your alpha wrapped around you.

[queernoctis]

[FIC] Let's Watch the Sunrise - TIWIW Chapter 3

💖Fandom: Compilation of FF7

💖Pairing: Angeal Hewley/Genesis Rhapsodos/Sephiroth

💖Additional Tags: Warning: Hojo, Canon-Typical Violence, Pregnancy, Medical Examination, Shinra Electric Power Company Science Department, Sephiroth’s Terrible Childhood, Omega Sephiroth, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Angeal Hewley, Alpha Genesis Rhapsodos

💖 Part 6 of Love is an Art [secret omega sephiroth series]

💖 Chapter Summary: A waiter comes to take his order, and then Sephiroth is left alone again. The group around the fireplace is a bit rowdy, but Sephiroth doesn't mind. It almost reminds him of back at Shinra, when the SOLDIER floor would get a bit lively. Most often because Zack was around. Sephiroth thinks the noise pairs well with the crackle of the fireplace.

"So then this behemoth shows up," a voice breaks through the noise. "And I don't know what Shinra did to this thing, cause it sure as hell doesn't look like any behemoth i've ever seen!"

[Read on AO3!]

[synthapostate]

@lastdaysofwar, Day 16: Alternate Universe/Orders (Sasha Kaidonovsky)

This one got away from me a little.

They follow the marshal’s orders, even when those orders are for Crimson Typhoon and Striker Eureka to engage the kaiju, and Cherno Alpha to hang back and defend. Her brutal war machine is not suited to the sidelines, but Sasha trusts the marshal.

But trust only goes so far. The Kaidonovskys have not spent all these years protecting their perimeter without learning when to take the initiative. And when the dying screams of Crimson Typhoon’s pilots crackle across their comms, and are abruptly silenced, they don’t wait for further orders. Cherno Alpha makes its lumbering way to the remaining jaeger’s aid.

They almost make it. Later, she will wonder: if their positions were reversed, if Pentecost had made a different call and Cherno were the one crushed under a kaiju’s foot, could the Hansens, in their newer, faster machine have reached them in time?

She’ll never know. The Hansens scream their last defiance at their killer as water rushes into the cockpit. Then, just like that, they’re gone. Three brothers and a father and son, all taken in a matter of minutes, and Cherno can do nothing about it. Gipsy Danger’s untried and unstable pair has to save the day, and Sasha can only watch.

Later, with her arm in a sling and fury in her heart, she finds Mori and Beckett in the jaeger bay, watching the mechanics put the pieces back together. Mori has been crying. She’s calm now, but her eyes give her away. The girl is green. But she’s getting there. This won’t be enough to break her.

“Herc was a really decent guy,” Beckett is saying. “I’m sorry.”

“He was a good man,” Mori agrees. “You didn’t get the chance to know Jin and Hu and Cheung, but they were as well. They were good friends, and very brave. And poor Chuck.”

Beckett just nods at that, his expression carefully neutral.

“I realize he did not make a good first impression, but there was more to him than what you saw,” Mori sighs. “I’ve known him since we were children. We used to make such big plans for the future.” She shakes her head. “I’ll have to look after Max now.”

“You will spoil that dog,” Sasha says. They both turn to her.

“Lieutenant Kaidonovsky, you’re out of medical.”

“Dodging my husband now. Man like that is worst kind of mother hen.” She smiles, a flash of white teeth and crimson lips that she has cultivated over a lifetime. It makes her look fierce. A smile like that keeps anyone from noticing the parts of her that are not cold steel. Like a warm heart that adores her Aleksis, and melts at his care for her.

“Glad to see you still in one piece,” Beckett says. Sasha nods.

“Thanks to you two.” She rolls her shoulder, best she can in its sling. “You came through. Second drift was stable.”

“Yes,” they say together, still all tied up in each other’s heads.

Sasha should go find her own partner now. She’s had her walk, proven that she can handle herself. Now, time to let Aleksis take care of her, if only because it makes him so happy.

“See you, rangers,” she says. “Look forward to fighting with you next time.”

“Can you pilot?” Mori asks, with innocent concern. The girl is so young.

“Don’t need two arms to pilot a jaeger,” Sasha says. Beckett meets her eyes over the top of Mori’s head. He frowns, but doesn’t speak. Sometimes, even outside of the drift, there are things that don’t need to be said.

Sasha waves and walks away. Behind her, she hears Beckett call up to their maintenance crew, “Hey up there! You have a safety harness! Quit screwing around and use it!”

“They are trying to work quickly,” Mori says.

“I’ve seen people fall from that height. I never want to see it again.”

Heh. There are going to be improvements to the Shatterdome’s safety ratings in the future. Assuming everyone lives that long.

*

Gottlieb says they’re running out of time, but somehow Sasha doesn’t believe it until the order comes for Aleksis to suit up and report to the jaeger bay. Without her.

Hell no. This is not happening. They head down together, and Sasha finds the marshal’s sidekick Choi and demands an explanation. Aleksis looms behind her. That’s what he does best.

“Why you didn’t call me, huh?” she asks. “I still have time to suit up?”

“Uh…all due respect, ma’am, you can’t pilot with that arm,” Choi says, looking like he expects her to bring her fist down on the top of his head and drive him three feet into the floor.

“Aleksis cannot pilot alone. Better this arm than neural overload. Or who you think his copilot will be? You?”

“Sasha,” Aleksis says. Be nice.

Sasha groans and tosses her head. She knows, this is not Choi’s fault, but she doesn’t like where this is going. She can see the ending all laid out for her, and it’s wrong. Her place is in her jaeger, by her partner’s side.

The doors open, and in comes Marshal Pentecost, looking sleek and dashing in a drivesuit made for a younger man.

Mori is silently devastated, as she learns all over again that she can lose what she loves the most.

Choi clutches the rosary that never leaves his hand.

Beckett looks away. Better than anyone here, he knows that heroes do not go out in a blaze of glory. They just go.

Others murmur, pride or sorrow or grim resignation.

Sasha walks out. She doesn’t care for Pentecost’s speeches, and Aleksis needs to get ready.

*

There is ice in her eyes, and she freezes their crew with a look. They don’t come near.

Sasha fits him out herself, one-handed and methodical. First the underlayer that sits against his skin, then armor to protect him through the fight, ports to connect him to the jaeger’s cybernetic brain, all the things she should be layering over her own body.

Her man is a ranger.

She sees herself as a lady, in the medieval sense of the word, buckling a sword on her brave knight as she sends him off on his quest. The thought makes her furious. Sasha was never meant to be a lady. She is not supposed to be left behind.

“I’ll be glad to think of you living through this,” Aleksis says.

“Don’t you fucking talk to me like that.” She jerks his helmet into place. It covers the softness in his eyes.

This could be any other fight. She could imagine he’s coming back, and that she won’t spend the rest of her life hating this world for going on without him.

“Sasha.” He pushes his visor back. Aleksis is not a soft man, but there is a warm sweetness at his core that exists only for her.

They tip their foreheads together, and do not speak.

*

Sasha stays by her husband’s side. She’ll be with him as long as she can. They don’t speak, but still, she resents when Pentecost joins them at the end of the hall.

Aleksis looks at him, silently measuring. Pentecost looks back. They don’t blink.

“We’ll do,” Aleksis says at last.

Their drift will be stable. The jaeger will get them to the breach. Cherno Alpha is slower than her fallen siblings, but tough. Their bomb may get through. The world may be saved.

Sasha takes Aleksis by the shoulder before he can walk away.

“Come back,” she says. She doesn’t waste her time telling Pentecost she’ll never forgive him for this. Aleksis is the only one she wants to speak to in this moment.

He leans down to press his forehead against hers, one last time. There are no words. No promises. But they don’t need to speak. There is nothing they’ve left unsaid.

*

Acting Marshal Kaidonovsky steps into LOCCENT with Choi by her side. She’s not cut out for this. She’s led teams in the field, but never like this. She has never given orders from behind the line, sending people to die so she can live.

“You got this,” Choi tells her. “I’m with you.” Sasha glares at him. Of course she’s got this. There’s no one else who can do it. Doesn’t mean she wants to be here. But she will rely on Choi’s experience running this circus, and between them, they’ll do what they must.

And in the end, the worst is not so terrible. The teams follow her orders like she was the real marshal, and it’s not so different from being in the fight, except that she can see more of it. That, and her partner’s voice comes over the radio, from a distance she’ll never be able to cross.

The scientists return from the mission Pentecost gave them, and Sasha dismisses them from her attention, too busy to stop and listen—until Geiszler runs up and tries to shove her out of the way. Then she flattens him, by pure reflex, with an elbow to the face.

Gottlieb staggers like he’s the one she hit. Sasha catches him—this one, she likes—but she doesn’t have time to stop and ask what happened to the two of them. The jaegers are making their final run.

“Lieutenant!” Gottlieb says, attention torn between her and the biologist sprawled out on the floor. “This is not going to work!” He squeezes past her, somehow flowing like water into every inch of space she gives him even as she tries to keep him out, until at least she gives up and lets him take her microphone. “Rangers, you have to lock onto the kaiju, ride it into the breach—”

“Grocery store,” Geiszler mumbles from the floor.

“Yes, Newton, I’ve got it. The breach will not let foreign material pass. Anything that tries to enter is scanned like a barcode at the supermarket—don’t get up, Newton, I’ve got it—you have to make it think you’re a kaiju or else the bomb will bounce right off and the mission will fail!”

“You heard the man.” Sasha moves the physicist aside and takes back her position. “Kill a kaiju, stuff a bomb up its ass, and fire it into the breach. This is how you save the world.”

*

That line makes it into the history books.

*

As the years pass, Sasha will always wonder how things might have been different, if the marshal had made the other call and the Hansens had lived. Striker’s speed might have made a difference, or it might have been torn apart before it ever reached the breach. All four of the heroes of Pitfall might have made it through, or none of them. Or just two, but a different two. Or six, or nine, if their luck had really held through both the Double and Triple Events. Maybe they all could have survived to see the world they’ve made.

Or Lieutenant Kaidonovsky would be under the sea right now, blown to smithereens, the particles that once made up her body mixed with those of the only man she’s ever loved, never to be separated again.

Gottlieb assures her that the way it is is the only way it could have been, but he talks to her about alternate universes when they get together to toast the dead. And they do spend their evenings together often. Marshal Kaidonovsky and her Head of Breach Science are old friends.

They talk about what might have been, and what never will be. And this, she comes to learn, is what aging heroes do. They refight old battles and wonder what they could have changed, because saving the world will never be enough when the world that’s left is so full of holes.

And then she sends her physicist home to his apartment in Moyulan, and she goes to sleep. And dreams of times of war, always.

She doesn’t hate the world. But it’s made itself damn hard for her to love.

Author’s Note: This was originally intended to be a two-parter, leading into Anteverse/Precursors, but I decided not to acknowledge PRU at all this month other than a few references to Jake’s existence. So let’s say Sasha hit Newt so hard the precursors fell right out of his head, and Uprising never happened.

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Whumptober 2024

No. 7: ONLY FOR EMERGENCIES

Unconventional Weapon | Magic with a Cost | "It's us or them."

A/N: For this one at first I was like, “magic with a cost?” In Half-life? “It’s us or them,” I could see a little better, but then it dawned on me.  Gordon Freeman is literally the KING of unconventional weapons.  Crowbar?  Check.  Zero Point Energy Field Manipulator (gravity gun) you can use to violently CHUCK THINGS at people?  Check.  Even magic with a cost I eventually figured could fit the vorts.  SO.  Here we are.  Ready to cause some mayhem!  And I decided that, yes, this takes place shortly after my fic, “Aliens and Adrenaline.”  Not a prereq for understanding this one, but a fun way to add in a little extra whump ;)

See you on the other side! (If you stick around that long.) ((Please do!))

“Dammit, Keller, I told you before. It’s us or them.”

Gordon Freeman crept to a stop at the corner, listening to the heated argument of the two marines in the adjacent corridor.  In one hand, he held a crowbar, encrusted with blood both human and otherwise.  The other was clamped securely to the gash in his side, a lovely parting gift from one of the three-armed, green energy-ball slinging aliens that were spontaneously materializing around Black Mesa Research Facility.

“I know, I know,” the second Marine, Keller, replied defensively.  “It just feels… wrong.  They’re unarmed.  I thought we were being sent into this hellhole as reinforcements, not to slaughter innocent civilians.”

Cautiously, Gordon peeked around the corner.  Neither of them faced directly towards him, but he didn’t dare come out any further, lest they spot the movement in the corner of their eyes.  Although he had found himself able to overpower one or two Marines at a time, he knew that this would be too much.  Even with the newest dose of morphine lingering in his system, he could feel cold and lethargy slowly creeping into his limbs, as blood slowly oozed out from between his fingers.

But the Marines weren’t what he was really interested in.  Even after watching what they had done to some of his coworkers, he was loathe to kill them mercilessly.  Weren’t they fighting for the same end, to stop the end of human life as they know it?  It was the medical kit mounted on the wall behind them that he was interested in, along with what appeared to be several crates of ammunition and a radio.

“Innocent?” The first soldier said indignantly, “Those eggheads are the reason we’re here in the first place.  Can’t leave well enough alone. And that Freeman guy—”

A pang of… Something struck Gordon’s chest.  In the time since the resonance cascade, he hadn’t had the time – nor the energy – to think about all of that.  He had been too busy trying to survive.  And stop a rip in the fabric of the Earth from destroying life as they knew it, of course.  That was a given.  Was all this his fault, though?  He could have refused to go through with the experiment.  He certainly had the grounds to, after all.  The danger had been obvious long before they went through with it.  If not him, though, then who?  And at what cost?

Gordon pressed his left hand tighter against the tender injury in his side, using the pain that flared, despite the morphine, as a distraction.  Surprisingly enough, the quiet, analytical thinker had learned that the one thing you didn’t do was think.  It was stopping to think that got you killed.

In the middle of their argument, the Marines turned their backs on the hall behind them as a staticky voice crackled through the radio.

“Target reported in sector Alpha, oh-five-niner.”

Silent as a cat, Gordon crept around the corner towards the two unsuspecting Marines, hefting his crowbar in his free hand.  Despite his calm exterior demeanor, his pulse thundered in his ears.  He forced his breaths to flow quiet and steady.

“Freeman is armed and dangerous—”

A familiar, warping, flanging sound directly behind him easily forfeited all need to stay quiet.  The Marines turned.  Instinctively, he dropped to the ground, grunting at the violent tug on his injured side.  A green, humming ball of pure, concentrated electricity whizzed over Gordon’s prone form.  It slammed into the two Marines, who went crashing into the crates behind them. 

Almost as quickly as he dropped, Gordon was back on his feet again.  His chest heaved, and his vision spun dangerously for several seconds; his pulse throbbed in tandem with the pain in his side.  Ignoring the trembling in all of his limbs, he raised his crowbar high—

Only to see the three-armed alien already collapsed on the floor.  It was alive, that was for certain.  It was also breathing heavily, clawed fingers twitching, the large, single eye in the middle of its leathery-skinned face rolled back, half shut. 

Gordon took a shaky step back – more of a stumble than a purposeful movement, and leaned back against the crates at his back, staring at the incapacitated alien in front of him.  As far as he could tell, it had no obvious external injuries.  No vibrant green blood pooled on the floor, no obvious discoloration of its tough, leathery hide.  It almost looked to be… exhausted.

With a wince, Gordon let his raised arm drop to his side.  There was no morality in killing a debilitated opponent.  He knew that, even if it was from the cheesy action movies with their righteous heroes that his younger self had watched with his dad on the weekends in their garage in Seattle.

For a long moment, both man and alien recovered in silence.  The radio crackled back to life.

“Repeat, Freeman is armed and dangerous. Kill on sight.”

A/N: so, I know this one is out a day late, and I still haven't finished prompts no. 2 and no. 6, BUT. Here it is. A (semi) sequel to Aliens and Adrenaline. Yay!

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Calculate And Pray

Series: Holler Me Home, part 4

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader

Synopsis: AU rewrite of S12E7-9. The new family comes to their first serious stress-test.

Tags:  Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, ABO, Omegaverse, AU, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega You, Omega Reader, Castiel, Alpha Sam Winchester, Omega Mary Winchester, Billie the Reaper

AN:  AU rewrite of S12E-7-9.  All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

"Oh hell no," you say as Dr. Sexy dives for cover in the Hollywood backlot passing itself off as a rainforest in Columbia.  "I could make that shot, never mind a mercenary with SEAL training, I don't care if he washed out or not."

"Well," Dean says through a mouthful of popcorn, "it is a tricky shot, with the rain and the leaves and everything.  And it's so humid in the jungle he can't use a scope."

"No excuse."

Groaning, Dean throws a popcorn kernel at you.  "Look I don't say anything when you watch those shockumentaries about Nazis."

"That's because you like watching them and gloating."  You grin at him.  "For the record, it will never stop being a turn on that I get to fuck the guy who killed Hitler."

Dean leans over and gives you a kiss, in that hollow behind the point of your jaw.  "Better than free drinks," he whispers into your ear.

You turn your head and press your lips to his, smiling.  "How often does a girl get a compliment like that?"

"Guys?" Sam breaks in, carrying three beers in the fingers of one hand.  "I thought we agreed-- bedrooms only."

"Relax Sam, we're not ripping each other's clothes off," Dean says.

"Yet," you add.

Rolling his eyes, Sam passes out the beer and sits in the battered recliner he's claimed as his own, in the cleared-out storage room Dean’s sworn will one day be a Den of Awesomeness.  "Oh come on," he groans as Dr. Sexy puts his Stetson on a stick and the sniper shoots it dead center.  "Like any sniper would be tricked by that."

"I'm saying!  Waste of a shot," you agree.

"You two are no fun, at all," Dean gripes.

"Dude, a guy wearing cowboy boots for sixteen hour shifts tests my suspension of disbelief plenty."

"Shyeah," Sam agrees, and the two of you clink your beers.

"Shut up," Dean grumbles, "you . . . anti-fun . . . stuff ruiners."

You mime pulling a zipper across your lips and continue to watch Dr. Sexy bark medical-sounding things to the spunky Columbian doctor whom he's kind of infatuated with while small arms fire crackles around them.  You're guessing there's gonna be a lost tribe plot twist coming up somewhere, maybe of athletically hot Amazons who eat their mates--

Your phone rings, an electronic rendition of The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies.

“Shit."

---

"I told you," you tell Dean, zipping up and shouldering your ruck, "I'm doing this solo."

"No, you are not," Dean tells you.  As you move for the door he slams an arm across the frame, blocking your way.  "What's going on?"

"Call for help from a friend," you explain.  Again.  "I should be back in a couple weeks."

"What, you get to tag along on our hunts but not vice-versa?" Sam asks from the hallway.

You glare at them both.  "These friends are shy, and these friends will shoot you for a stranger if you show up with me.  And since when do I," you sarcasm quote, "'get to,' 'tag along'?"

"Sorry.  Bad choice of words," Sam concedes.

"No shit."

"Can you at least tell us what the job is?" Dean asks.

"What part of 'I can't tell you,' are you having difficulty grasping?"  You duck under Dean's arm, only for Sam to grab the strap on your ruck and haul you back like someone pulling a dog up short by the collar.

"Let her go Sam," Dean says.  "She doesn't trust us, that's fine."

"It's not a matter of not trusting you," you try to explain.

"Sure," Dean says, his tone etched in acid, "you're just not, y'know, trusting us."

You round on him and meet his glare straight on.  "I am trusting you.  I am trusting you to accept my judgement.  I can work this myself.  All you and Sam can do is get your heads blown off.  These people do not believe in loose ends."

"So don't go at all," Sam says.

"Have to," you say.

"Why?"

Easy to forget these two are an extremely effective interrogation team.  "Never mind.  I'll be back in a week or so."

"God dammit," Dean says, pacing you, "you are not going anywhere."

You stop dead in your tracks.  "Use Alpha voice on me, Dean Winchester," you warn, "and I swear I'll slice off your balls and grind your knot into hash."  Back on the march, leaving both brothers speechless behind you.  "Don't think I can't do it!"

---

This favor's pretty straightforward-- salting and burning the body of one of Peg's associates, along with laying down the proper rites preventing a ghost from being summoned.  The biggest bitch is the travel time; first there’s a trip back to Chicago because that’s where you left your clean passports, then to Laredo, plus having to change vehicles to cross the border, plus another vehicle change in Monterrey, plus another endless drive to Tampico.  You get a box of tea cakes, sincere thanks, and a solemn promise for any favor you might need.  You also make a mental note to figure out a way to take the boys on vacation-- Tampico's beautiful in the spring and Dean would fall violently in love with the torta de la barda.

On the way, news comes over the wire of Vince Vincente's death and you call the boys.  Neither one of them answers.  Concerning, but not panic worthy, you tell yourself.  There are times they have to go incommunicado on the job.  Or Dean's being a little shit and giving you the silent treatment.

Your phone rings as you waddle the RV out of Laredo.  A voice with a heavy British accent asks your name.  "You got her."

"Good evening.  My name's Mick Davies.  Men of Letters, London chapterhouse."

"Right!" you say.  "The folks whose negotiation strategy involved blowtorches."

"Yes well," he says, sounding a mite exasperated, "as I've explained, several times, that was an operative acting outside her orders.  She's been removed from her position and disciplined for her actions."

"Splendid," you say dryly.  "Is there a purpose to this call?  I'm driving."

"I've been instructed to approach certain Hunters operating within the United States and discuss the possibility of partnership with our organization.  Would you care to meet me for lunch and talk it over?"

Not really trembles behind your lips.  You're more pragmatic than that, though.  "I'll tell you what.  Can you be in Dallas by three PM tomorrow?"

"Easily," Davies says.

"Meet me at Maple and Motor.  It's a hamburger joint on Maple Street, near Dallas Love Field airport.  Try the brisket sandwich."

"I'll do that.  See you there."

You disconnect, and call Dean.  Still going straight to voicemail.  "Hey.  I got a call from a guy name of Mick Davies.  That's the guy gave you and Sam his business card, right, British Men of Letters?  I got a meeting with him tomorrow.  I'm guessing sales pitch.

"Anyway, call me when you get this.  It'd be really good to hear your voice."  You swallow.  What the hell?  "I love you.  See you tomorrow night."

---

"Let me paint you a picture, of a world without monsters."

You chew on your tater tot, giving your lunch date the once-over.  Average height, craggy features, permanent five'o'clock shadow, English accent but not a super posh one you don't think.  His attitude is relaxed but his clothes don't fit the ambience.  You've been around enough to know professional tailoring when you see it.  At your elbow, the dingy jukebox plays some Fogarty.  Unconsciously, your thumb taps a beat on the table.  "Put me in Coach, I'm ready to play . . ."

"Of a world without vampires, werewolves, demons, or any of those other little buggers that go bump in the night.  Where no one has to die because of the supernatural."

"'When we ain't gonna study war no more?'" you ask.

Mick Davies looks a little confused for a second, but just a second.  "Heinlein.  Starship Troopers."

"Yes Mr. Davies, I can read," you assure him.  "I can also shoot a dime group at 500 yards, machine match-quality silver ammunition, knit Continental style, and dance a waltz."

"Then you can understand," he says, "the current situation in America is madness.  The decentralized approach saves lives but doesn't get at the root of the problem.  Now we can provide intelligence, technology the likes of which you've never seen.  You need lore?  We have access to the best libraries in the world.  You need training?  Our Hunters receive special forces training cribbed directly from the SAS-- erm, that's the British--"

"Special Air Service, roughly the infantry equivalent of the Navy SEALs.  Motto 'Who Dares Wins,'" you recite dryly.  "I might be poor white trash from Middle Of Nowhere Michigan but please don't treat me like an idiot Mr. Davies.  Assume you're talking to a grownup and I'll ask questions if there's something I need clarification on."

Davies sighs through his nose.  "I apologize ma'am."  Ma'am comes out mum.  "I've spent too long around company men, makes me forget my manners.  What I'm trying to say is," he leans forward and lowers his voice a little, putting the two of you in confidant space, "America can be made safe, with your help.  All you have to do is come when we call, and do what we tell you.  Legwork becomes a thing of the past."

"Hmm."  You're not Irish but your godfather was, and he had a saying-- Beware Englishmen bearing gifts.  You've spent enough time wrangling spirits dating from the French and Indian War to know there's a mighty big nugget of practicality in that advice.  "The issue with that approach is those of us on the ground sacrifice a lot of flexibility when circumstances change.  Which they inevitably do.  And not to point out the obvious but it's a lot easier to maintain a quarantine zone when the land mass in question is geographically isolated.  To achieve similar results in the United States would mean interdicting the entire Western Hemisphere, unless your plans include putting up a wall at the Panama Canal."

"I'm not saying results would be achievable within our lifetime," Davies says.

"Of course not, that's ridiculous," you say.  "I'm questioning whether they would be achievable at all.  At one point we all assumed vampires were extinct-- not even close.  They were laying low, building their numbers back up under our noses."  You finish your bacon cheeseburger and wash it down with a sip of your pop.  As you do, your phone chirps.  It's Castiel.

Excusing yourself to Davies, you pick it up.  "M'yello."  Cas tells you, and all the blood in your body turns to road slush.  "I'm on my way.  Be there in about eight hours."

"Has something happened?" Davies asks.

"Private business," you tell him, pulling a twenty out of your pocket and laying it on the table.  "I'm sorry but we're going to have to continue this discussion some other time."

"Of course.  I'll be in touch."  He stands when you do and you shake his hand when he offers it.  He doesn't let go right away.  His affect softens a little.  "Is there anything I can--"

"No," you cut him off, extract your hand, and all but run out of the joint.

---

"Let's recap," you say, with what you think is saintly patience and calm.  "The good news is, the leader of the free world is Devil-free, with said Devil back in the slammer.  The bad news is, the Devil got the President's mistress pregnant, said mistress is missing, and Sam and Dean have been taken by a vague yet menacing government agency and are probably on their way to an abandoned mine shaft to be unpersoned as we speak.  Do I have that straight?"

Castiel gulps.  "I do not understand those references--"

"You grasp the fucking meaning," you snap.  You pace away from the map table, because if you have to look at Castiel or Mary right now you're going to do something the boys will never forgive you for.  Your hands ache for a weapon, and a target to kill.

"Why?" Mary asks, sounding small and a bit lost.  "If they needed help, why didn't they call me?"

When you and Mary met, you'd taken a look at the desolation on Dean's face as she walked away and resolved to keep your opinions on her to yourself.  That resolution goes in the wastepaper basket.  This is not the time to regret treating one's kinfolk like nobodies.  "Why in God's name would they call you?  You needed space, remember?"

"And where were you?" Mary demands, strong jaw clenched and looking so much like her sons you want to scream.  "You're practically mated to Dean.  Your place is with him."

"Discussions of place,” you say.  “Are we really going to go there, Mrs. Winchester?"  She's right of course, and it scores a long bleeding wound down through your heart.  Obligations or not, you should have been with the boys for this.  "How much 'unfinished business' did you have to 'work through' when you had an Alpha and a pup at home who needed you?  Or did you think of it like, I dunno, being in the Reserves?  A weekend a month, two weeks a year?  Just enough to believe you earned the right to stand next to real heroes like your sons?”

"That's unfair," Castiel tries to break in, "and beside the point."

You take a breath, try to take hold.  Now is not the time.  “Right.  Is there a way you can track them?  Are they praying to you?” you ask Castiel.

“They pray to you?” Mary asks.

“Angels can hear prayers addressed specifically to them,” Castiel clarifies.  “Yes they are but they’re both warded against angels.  Including me.”

“Okay, so they’re alive.  Unharmed?” you ask.

“As far as I can tell,” Cas says.  “But I cannot get a fix on their location, and they themselves don’t know where they are.  I can’t--”

Your patience dies, bloody and screaming.  "You know what?  Screw you.  I'll find them myself."  Ignoring Castiel calling your name you grab your bag and march out.

Once you're back in the RV, you indulge and let yourself collapse.  Captured with the motherfucking President.  Assuming they weren't just taken to the nearest gravel pit and shot--

"Don't think that," you tell yourself.  "It's Dean and Sam and they're alive until definitely proven otherwise.  First step, crime scene."  You start up the RV and hit the road.

---

The crime scene's a bust.  Whatever evidence might've been there's been thoroughly Mr. Cleaned out of existence.  No damage, no zing of leftover magics, none of that twitchy sense that comes when angels are in the neighborhood.  Not even a hint of scent.

Of course.  If Cas couldn't pick anything up -- Castiel, who's practically welded to Dean -- then you sure as hell weren't going to find jack shit.  If you were claimed, maybe--

You cut yourself off.  You're not, so that's a line of speculation not even worth going down.

The next few days, you comb the area for witnesses.  Not surprisingly, most of them are unhelpful.  Either out of fear or payola.  Finally, you find an insouciant kid with a FUCK THE POLICE tattoo on his chest who points down Highway 87, going west.

Traffic cams are a zilch, either because the spooks took a route that avoided them or altered the recordings.  Neither would surprise you.  Witnesses come up dry.  The best trail you can find is a few stray mentions on social media, folks wondering about the military-looking convoy passing through the neighborhood.  You don't sleep much, and when you do your dreams are bad.  Dean's scent fades from the RV day by day, like he's leaving you an inch at a time.  Like someone's taking the marrow from your bones, scoop by scoop.

The less said about your first heat alone since Dean crash-landed in your life, the better.  On Thanksgiving Day no less.  The irony's too bitter to be funny.

When it's over, you take a long shower, bandage the gouges on your arms and your sides, clean the blood and scraps out from under your nails, and do what you've known was inevitable since the minute the boys went missing.

"Da?"

---

You've been bedded down in a hide for most of the night, wrapped in a scent-killing ghille suit patterned on leaf litter.  Clearly, the government spooks who run this place count on its remoteness for secrecy.  The only way in or out is an old Park Services track engineered to look like it was last used around the Reagan administration.  Your intel says the forest for about two klicks around is monitored by motion detection cameras.  Pairs of soldiers in full battle-rattle walk foot patrols three or four times a day.  Not an acceptable risk, getting the drop on them and stealing their entry cards.  Places like this, the guards know each other on sight and you haven't seen a single woman or scented a single Omega yet.  There's no indication this is even the right place.  It's just the closest one to where the wagon taking Sam and Dean was last seen.  If the spooks took them further west, forget it they're gone and you're never getting them back.

And that's what you're thinking when two figures scurry out of a side door.  You look through your scope and your heart stops.  "Pizdets!"

Dean stops to talk on a phone and Sam searches one of the cargo trucks, coming up with a map.  A wild hope Dean will look up and see you gets thrown out the window when he tosses the phone and the boys make tracks roughly west-northwest.  You emerge from your hide and start running on an intercept course.  There's a stream about six klicks away.

You beat them to it and crouch in a hollow beneath a half-fallen tree.  You give the Winchesters credit, they're about as quiet as they can be considering they're trying to make time in broken country they don't know.  You peek around the tree trunk.  Dean's the in the lead, because of course he is.  Heart pounding a quickstep in your chest, you take off your gloves, hood, and mask, rub your palms where the sweat's collected behind your ears, and start scatting the riff to "Heartbreaker."

Sam's head perks up.  He touches Dean's arm, then cups a hand behind one ear.  Frowning, Dean follows Sam's pointing finger downstream.  They're about ten yards away when you hear Dean snort a breath in through his nose.  You fan your hands, letting the barely there breeze carry your scent.  Dean takes a deep breath through nose and mouth, pulling as much air as possible across the Jacobson's organs in his sinuses.  You can see it when it clicks what he's scenting.  It's like a firework going off; his whole being blazes.  Ignoring stealth, he splashes across the little stream and the next thing you know he's in your arms and chanting your name and there are tears burning your cheeks.  Yours, his, who cares?  Every cell in your body sobs in relief.

Sam wraps his arms around you both.  "How the hell did you find us?"

"Long story.  I will tell you everything later.  Right now we need to move.  There's an old trapper's shack maybe another three hours march west-northwest.  I've got supplies and weapons stashed there."

"We have to count on them knowing about it," Sam points out.

"I know, which is why we have to beat them there."  You have to physically force your arms to turn Dean loose.  From the tension in his body, Dean does too.  "Come on.  And keep your ears open, I haven't been here long enough to map patrol routes."

Dean grabs your face and gives you a short, hard kiss.  Alpha’s here and it acts on you like a bolt of thunder.  "God I love you.  Lead the way."

---

The problem with full battle-rattle on patrol is you sacrifice a certain sensitivity to the environment, especially if your routine is day after day counting the same trees.  The pair you encounter after about an hour of steady jogging barely have time to widen their eyes before Sam's got one in a sleeper hold and you drop the other with a hard punch to the nose.  They're both carrying zip ties, so you secure them hands and feet while Sam and Dean loot their weapons and ammunition.  Just being armed is a huge stress relief, you can see it.

For your part you've got your Glock on your hip and your TAC-50 cased on your back, ammunition and supplies strapped to your body.  The extra weight's starting to tell and you know it's not doing you any favors as far as tracking.  If the bad guys are on your trail they're going to know you're a party of three, one a woman and an Omega.

"Negative copy, say again?" comes a voice from one of the soldiers' radios.  "Norton?  Norton, this is Sanchez.  Norton, do you copy?"

Dean picks up the radio.  "Norton has gone night-night."

"Winchester," the voice on the other end says.

"This the man in charge?"  At the affirmative, Dean says, "Let me tell you how this is gonna go.  You're gonna call your boys, and you're gonna turn around, and nobody's gonna get hurt."

You catch Sam's eyes and shake your head.

Called it.  "No no," Sanchez says.  "Here's how this is gonna go.  I take my highly trained soldiers, track your ass down, and you get hurt.  A lot.  You can't run forever.  You're trapped out here."

The bad guys never get it; these kinds of statements from any Winchester are like the Godfather talking about offers you can't refuse.  It's not a negotiation gambit, it's a warning shot.  "Well," Dean drawls, smiling in a way that makes his eyes go hard and pitiless, "what we have here is a failure to communicate.  Because we're not trapped out here with you.  You're trapped out here with us."

Sam knows a dramatic cue when he hears one and slams a fresh clip into the MPX he'd lifted off Norton.  Dean tosses the radio.  You take your bearings and take off.  Night's coming down fast and there's no way you're going to reach the road before the bad guys catch up.  That leaves Plan B.

---

Plan B goes pretty smoothly, all things considered.  Pity you're under strict instructions not to take kill shots.  You could drop about half the squad, easy as sneezing.

Within minutes, it's over.  The soldiers are all unconscious or disabled, and the squad's leader is on the ground with a broken ankle.  For a moment an older gentleman with a long, mournful face gets the drop on Dean, until Sam shows up cocking a shotgun.  "Don't."

You take the older man's sidearm.  Camp, says the patch on his vest.  "If the plan was assassination," you point out the obvious, "the President would be dead.  Last I knew he was alive and well and prepping for the transition."

"He lost the election?" Sam asks.

"Quit campaigning at the last minute," you reply.  "Guess we know why."

"You're the sniper?" Sanchez says, spying your rifle.  He takes a sniff.  "Unbelievable."

"Watch that," you warn.

"You want the truth?" Sam asks, keeping his weapon up and his finger tight on the trigger.  "The President was possessed, by the Devil.  We saved his life.  That's the truth.

"Now you can take that and do what you want with it," Dean says.  "But come after us, you know what'll happen."

Both men look at the two holes in the shack's wall.  Holes you put there, less than three inches from their heads.  You'd brag, but the work speaks for itself and both these professional eraserheads know it.  Sanchez looks like Donald Duck about to explode into a hopping-on-one-foot fist-waving temper tantrum, but he clenches his jaw and nods.

Dean and Sam sling their weapons and walk away.  You cover their backs, but thank God the bad guys know when they're whipped and nobody takes any cheap shots.

"Who are you people?" Camp demands.

Over the barrel of your Glock, you tell him.  "Those are the guys who save the world.  A lot."

---

The march to the road is long, uncomfortable, and thank God uneventful.  You hear a rustle in the underbrush and suddenly there's Castiel, tan overcoat and all.  "Sam.  Dean."  He looks so relieved he might cry.

Dean freezes, rooted with shock.  For a second you see it, the awareness he won't let himself have for so many reasons.  You've gotten used to shoving away a sting of jealousy when you see that look.  Like it or not, Dean and Castiel are bonded in a way no one else can touch.  Not even you.

"Cas," Sam pants, shoving past Dean and wrapping Cas in a hug.  You scan your surroundings and catch sight of a head of golden blonde hair.  Sam does too.  "Mom!"

"Hey buddy," Dean says and grabs Castiel in a hard hug.  Mary's right there too and Dean switches to hold her, ever so gently.

Cas catches sight of you.  "How did--"

"Later," you brush him off.  "We gotta hit the road.  Like, now."

"How did you even find us?" Sam asks as your little group emerge from the thick tangle of bush and bramble lining Route 34.

Mary cocks her head at the road, where two men in overcoats lean casually against the hood of a car.  "They helped."

"'Allo lads," Mick Davies hails.  He sees you and nods, smiling, "Madam."

"They had a thermal imaging satellite that saw you," Castiel explains.  "From space."

"Borrowed it, temporarily," Davies clarifies.  "Friends in the right places."

"It barely saw you a'tall," the other man says.  "We thought there might be a wolf or a mountain lion stalking the boys."

"Nosir," you say.  "Just me and my," you pluck the collar of your suit, "designer threads."

"I see.  Pray tell," the taller Man Of Letters asks, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes you yearn to plunge a knife in his throat, "how did you find them?"

"Luck," you say, because it's mostly true.  "An associate of mine knows about some of the government's off-the-books facilities.  I happened to pick the right one."

"Does this associate have a name?"

You give him a look.  "They like their privacy."

"Of course," he says with a little excuse-me smile.  "Forgive me."  You don't.  One doesn't hang around dedicated killers for as long as you have without recognizing Bad when you smell it.

"I guess this is where we're supposed to say 'thank you,'" Dean says.  The sarcasm is for the Brits, the light in his eyes is for you.

"No need," Davies says.  "Happy to be of service."

"Again," the other man adds.

"Okay then," Sam says.  "We should get.  The people we left, they'll call for backup any time."

"'Backup'?"  The taller Brit's urbane expression doesn't budge but his eyes narrow.  "You left survivors?"

"They're soldiers, just doing their jobs," Dean cuts him off.

"Still.  A bit unprofessional."

"Depends on what line of work you're in," you remark.

"We'll handle it."  Sam tics his head away.  "Let's get."

You settle into the backseat, with Cas on the other side and Dean playing Monkey In The Middle.  Sam's shotgun with Mary.  Your hand finds Dean's and your fingers interweave.  You rest your head on his shoulder and just take him in, all his Dean-ness.  You feel like you could sleep for days, just like this.  Your eyes close when you feel Dean's lips against your temple.  Weeks of going through the motions.  You're alive again.

"So wait," Dean says, "you're Hunting?"

"A little bit," Mary admits.  "Just keeping the shop open."

"Yeah I knew you couldn't stay away," Sam says, smiling.

Mary glances at you in the rearview mirror.  "So you broke them out?"

"No, they were in the process of breaking out when I found them," you say.  "Speaking of which, how did you do that?  If Camp is who I think he is, you two were locked down tighter than Fort Fucking Knox."

"Yeah," Dean says, looking bleak.  "Forty-six days alone in an eight-by-ten closet."

"Jesus fucking Christ."  You throw your arms around Dean and hold him, make a mental note to do the same with Sam when you all get back to the bunker.  They're going to need some low-sensory-input downtime, with as much close contact as they'll let you give.  Dean tips his head and you can feel the warm wind of his breath as he takes in your scent.

“Missed you,” he says, so quietly.

The car's engine chokes and dies, and the car coasts to a stop on a bridge.  "What the hell?"  Mary pumps the gas, tries the key.  Nothing, not even a click from the starter.

"It's time," Sam says, and opens the door.  Dean nudges at you and he follows you as you climb out.  The look he gives you and Cas is . . . shady.  Guilty.  Like he's about to confess to something horrible.

The question -- how did you do that? -- echoes in your mind and terror grips your insides.  "Dean what did you do?"

He doesn't answer.  He won't even look at you.

"What's happening?" Mary asks as she gets out of the car and pulls a pistol.

"Yeah Dean."  There's a new figure standing in front of the car, a statuesque black woman with curly hair and blood-red lips.  "'Sup?"

"Billie?" Mary asks.

"The Reaper?" Cas adds.

In a flash, you put it together.  "No."

"There was only one way were getting out of there, and that wasn't breathing," Dean explains, not looking at you, or Cas, or anybody.  "So I made a call."

"And we made a deal," Sam confirms.  "We'd get to die and come back one more time, but in exchange--"

"Come midnight, a Winchester goes bye-by.  Like, permanently."  Satisfaction oozes from Billie like slime from a lamprey, and in that moment you want to tear her apart with your claws more than you want to continue breathing.  "And that, is something I've been looking forward to for a long time."

"Why would you--" Mary starts, all the blood drained from her face.

"We were already dead," Dean says.  "Being locked in that cell, with nothing . . .  I've been to Hell," Dean says, desolate and empty as the mountains of the moon.  "This was worse."

"At least this way one of us gets to keep fighting," Sam says.

"Fuck YOU you do," you snarl, shoving Dean so hard he falls and pulling your Glock, pointing it at the Reaper's smug bitch face.  "Over my dead body you take them."

"That," Billie tells you, "can be arranged.  But one way or another, one of them dies.  We made a pact, bound in blood.  You break that, there's consequences.  On a cosmic scale."

"Yeah right," you scoff.  "I'm supposed to trust the word of the afterlife's package carrier.  Fuck you.  You get nothing."

"Drop it."

Your teeth clench.  "Fuck you Winchester," you growl.

"I said," Dean's voice drops an octave and rumbles, an Alpha commanding their Omega, not to be ignored or disobeyed, "drop it."

Your arm sags and Dean takes your weapon away.  "God damn you," you whisper.

"She's right, you don't have to do this," Castiel says.

"You're right."  All of you turn to look at Mary, as she steps forward.  She's got her pistol in her hand.  "You said come midnight a Winchester dies, right?"  She pulls the collar of her shirt aside, showing two arcs of scar tissue at the juncture of neck and shoulder-- the marks made by John Winchester, the testament of their mating Bond.  "I'm a Winchester."

"Works for me," the Reaper agrees, and Mary puts the pistol to her temple.

"Mom no!" Dean cries.

"Don't!" Sam shouts.

"I love you," she whispers quietly, and her finger starts to squeeze.

Billie arches backwards as the point of an angel blade pops out of her chest.  Light bursts from her open eyes and mouth and she falls over, dead before she hits the ground.  Behind her stands Castiel, blood on his blade and a shocked look on his face.

"Cas what have you done?" Dean whispers.

"What had to be done," the former warrior of God says.  "You know, this world-- this sad, doomed little world.  It needs you.  It needs every last Winchester it can get and I will not let you die.  I won't let any of you die.  And I won't let you sacrifice yourselves.  You mean too much to me-- to everything."  You shut your eyes.  It's as close to a confession as Castiel will ever come.  "Yeah.  You made a deal.  You made a stupid deal, and I broke it.  You're welcome."

"I--" Mary starts, but cuts herself off.

"You son of a cocksucking bitch!" you snarl at your Alpha.  Was it five minutes ago you were holding him, trying to make him feel safe and whole again?

"What the hell you mad at me for?" Dean demands, shock turning to anger and pointing straight at you.

Your palm cracks against his cheek, leaving a red print like a brand.  "You had no right to swear that oath!"  You glare at Sam as he opens his mouth.  "Neither of you."

"We're not mated," Dean reminds you.  "You got no claim on me!"

"The fuck I don't!  What, you were just gonna take a dance with Death and leave me here?  What if I hadn't been here?  Would I have rated a fucking goodbye letter or would you've just sent a breakup text?  Did you even think?  Did you even care?"

You can see the answer in the way his eyebrows arc up, just a little.  No, it hadn't occurred to him, who he'd leave behind.  There's Sam, there's Mary, there's Cas . . . and everybody else.

"Then it would've been me," Sam tries to break in.  "Dean's got you.  I don't--"

"And if you think Dean would want to live in a world that don't have you in it, you're the smartest fucking moron I've ever met in my life!”  You pivot on one toe and start walking.  Right now you don’t trust yourself not to do something lethal to the man you love.

You get maybe ten yards before Dean catches up and grabs your arm.  "Where the hell're you going?" he snaps.

"Denver.  From there I'll catch a bus."

"No you won't."

You turn and punch.  Dean blocks it and twists your arm around your back.  "Calm down!"

"Let me go!"

"Not until you cool off!"

You stamp hard on the arch of his foot and elbow him in the gut.  No good.  His arm's like a steel band across your abdomen and if he jerks any harder he's gonna break your arm.

Cas touches two fingers to your forehead and everything goes black.

---

You wake up in your bed in the bunker, down to the tank and leggings you'd been wearing under the ghillie suit.  Castiel's sitting next to the bed.  "Are you all right?" he asks.  "How do you feel?"

"Like an angel KO'ed me," you tell him dryly.  "Where's Dean?"

"He's out getting supplies."

You snort.  "Naturally.  Fucking coward."

"If it's any comfort, he's not speaking to me either."  Cas hands you a bottle of water as you swing your legs off the bed.

You gulp the bottle so fast the plastic crumples.  "How long was I out?"

"Roughly ten hours."

Pitching the bottle into the wastepaper basket, you say, "That was a pretty shitty thing to do, Cas."

"Dean would not have left without you, and you were not in a rational frame of mind."

The memory hits like cold needles under your skin.  "He used Alpha voice on me, Cas.  I've told him how I feel about that.  On top of everything else.  It's like a double fuck-you."  You clench your jaw on tears.  For fuck's sake, you've cried more in the last few months than you have in the last ten years.  "Like why did we even bother finding them?  If I'd been able to get to them a day sooner--"

"I know."  His usually stony expression's gone especially bleak.  And . . . ashamed?  "You should know; Mary and I, we didn't find them.  I was unable to find any leads as to their location.  I only learned where they were when Dean called me."

The phone call you'd watched him make.  So you really didn't rate a final message.

Hesitating, like he's expecting you to shy or slap him away, Cas puts a hand on your shoulder.  "I'm sorry."

"What for?  You weren't the one who was an inch away from killing himself.  Or herself."

There are times when Castiel's protective camouflage slips and you can see how other-than-human he really is.  Tiny striations of pure light shine in his vessel's blue eyes and the hand on your shoulder is heavy, like he's not sure how much a hand should weigh.  "Killing a Reaper, breaking a blood oath; Billie was correct about catastrophic implications."

"Screw that.  They had no right to make that deal in the first place."  A tear rolls out of your eye and you palm it away.  "No right at all."

Something in Cas's face relaxes.  It's relief.  Shit, he must've caught pure Hell for what he did.  And why?  For refusing to be an accessory before the fact to the murder of the men you both love?

On impulse, you wrap your arms around the angel, one hand petting up into his hair and rubbing the way your mother did when you were a kid after a crying fit.  "Thank you," you say against his ear.  "Thank you."

Slowly, his arms go around you and hold you.  "Why?" he asks quietly.  "Why are they both so determined to embrace their own damnation?"

"I don't know Cas."  Which isn't entirely true, but Cas knows the boys better than you ever will, and you wouldn't presume you have any deeper insight into their characters than he does.  "Those jackasses are damn hard on those of us who love them."

---

"Look I don’t know what you’re feeling right now Dean-- no no," you mutter, squaring your shoulders and jabbing the heavy bag.  Sweat stands out on your body and your arms are starting to ache.  Your own damn fault, not keeping up with your conditioning.  Almost two months of chasing your Alpha to that gulag in Colorado then finding out he’d agreed to kill himself--

��I don’t know what you’re feeling-- don’t know, don’t know.”  Another combination.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know.  What.  You’re feeling.  What are you feeling?  Stupid question, you’re feeling . . . feelings.”  Kick combination, left then right.  “Stop it, that’s not helping.”  You lean against the bag and pant your wind back.  “Okay.  I’m an Alpha just got out of the Reclusion cells on Ilse du Salut, swore a blood oath to do it, my best friend broke that oath, and . . . motherfucker, Dean, you cannot expect me to join in your pity-party because I agree with Cas and I don’t want you to fucking die, all right?”

Over to where you’ve put down mats and you start stretching out your warm muscles.  “Be supportive.  Be a nice supportive Omega-- oh for Christ’s sake I am not going to be supportive when you march up to a cliff and start yelling I Believe I Can Fly.  I’m pissed at you, you asshole.”

Roll up off the mats and high-knee march around the gym.  Ordinarily you’d have music blasting loud enough to shake the dust loose.  Not today.  You need quiet, to work out what you’re going to say to Dean.  Since that night on the bridge, Dean’s been an exposed wire.  Except for the strictly necessary, he’s not talking to anyone.  No coming down to the gym in the morning to ask what you want for breakfast, no late nights staying up watching TV, no bad jokes, no smiles, no lingering embraces.  It doesn't help that you're so mad at him you want to smack him against a wall.  You weren't kidding about how you feel about Alpha voice.  Merry fucking Christmas.

“I thought,” you say as you wipe the sweat off your face and towel off.  “I thought you were a fighter, Winchester.”  That’s not fair, the rational part of you says.  “I know that’s not fair,” you tell that rational part.  “Two months in solitary confinement would break anybody.  But . . . sometimes I think you’re just marking time until you can find a convenient place to die.”

And there it is.  You slump to a seat on the inclined bench, gulping down the last of your water.  “Did you not care enough to fight for us?” you ask the empty room.  “How am I supposed to take that?”  You had no right to swear that oath, you’d told him that night, and his cold, We’re not mated, you got no claim on me, had cut you deep.  “Do I mean anything to you at all?” you ask, tears mixing with the sweat on your skin.

A long hot shower and a good cry helps restore your emotional equilibrium.  It also gives you an idea.  After getting dressed, you find Dean in the garage burrowed under the Chevy’s hood.  “Beer?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking the cold bottle away from you.

“So how long before she’s road-ready?” you ask, nodding at Baby.

“Half-hour,” Dean shrugs.  “Why?”

“I need to pick some stuff up out of storage in Kansas City.  Some books, couple curseboxes, some personal effects.  We could make a day of it.”

Dean looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable.  Long enough you start to get nervous.  A part of you wants to run to him, fall on your knees, Present, swear anything and everything if only he’d touch you and hold you--

“Yeah, sure, sounds like a plan,” Dean says.  “Just let me get done here and get cleaned up.”

“Great!  Bring the flatbed.  We’re gonna need it.”

It’s a nice drive, Rolling Stones on the stereo, Baby growling down the highway in her contented way.  In sunshine and crisp air you can feel part of yourself coming alive again.  Dean feels it too, you can tell.  Open road and Baby armoring him, it’s the Fabled Automatic.

After lunch you meander to the Lockup Self Storage.  “Hell-lo,” Dean says when you open the locker door, “what have we here?”

“You have your Baby,” you say, going to the hump covered by a heavy dropcloth.  “I have,” you peel back the canvas, “Eddie.”

Dean nods in appreciation, taking in the road-worn Harley-Davidson Road King.  Eddie The Head sneers at you both from the bike’s gas tank.  Just looking at it makes you feel a little breathless.  The thought of a ride, Eddie throbbing between your legs and Dean plastered to your back, it’s enough to make you a little bit slick.

Okay, a lot bit slick.  It’s not just your heart that’s pining here.

“Well go on, get on.”  You smile into Dean’s surprised face.  “I wanna see how hot you actually look on a bike.”

“You’ve imagined me on a bike?”

“What woman with a beating heart and functional eyesight wouldn’t?”

Once he settles into the saddle, all muscles and steel, you sigh.  In his normal clothes, Dean’s sex on wheels.  In leathers, you’d probably need someone to hold you back with a fire hose.  You could go into heat right here and now.  Shit, you want to go into heat right here and now.  Sit yourself on Dean’s lap as Eddie’s engine roars through you both--

Dean gets your attention, eventually.  You shake yourself.  “Okay, scootch back.  I’m gonna get the keys.”

Scatting a random beat under your breath, you walk behind the bike.  Dean has to brace a hand behind himself to get his balance; quick as anything you snap a handcuff around his wrist and snap the other cuff to the sissy bar mounted on Eddie’s back.  “What the hell--”

“Good,” you say, doing likewise with Dean’s other arm.  You mount Eddie backwards, putting yourself face-to-face with your Alpha.  He’s more confused than angry, but that could change in an eyeblink.  “I have your attention.”

“This is stupid-- unlock me.”

“Not until we talk about what happened in Colorado.”

“You mean where Cas broke a blood pact me and Sam made with Billie?”

“Yep, that.”

“What’s there to talk about?  Cosmic consequences--”

“Worse than the end of all existence?”

“I don’t know!” Dean yells.  “Every time I think the universe has screwed us over as hard as it can, something comes along that’s worse!”  Dean takes a breath, tries visibly to calm himself down.  “You’ve been a Hunter for years.  Death’s part if the job.”

“Stop right there,” you tell him, “and listen good.  Getting shot, getting stabbed, getting eaten-- that’s the job.  Holding the line so’s your buddies can get out; that’s the job too.  Dying young from stress?  That’s the job.  The job,” you say, focusing what force of personality you have on the Alpha in front of you, “is not, I repeat, not, throwing your dumb ass on a sword on some cosmic entity’s say-so based on a catastrophe that might or might not happen, and the job is especially not asking people who love you to stand by and let it happen, you dick.”

“So I should’ve let Sammy take the hit?  Or Mom?” Dean demands.

“None of the fucking above,” you tell him.  “If Castiel hadn’t shanked the bitch I would have.”  You grab his face.  “You do not get to die on me, Winchester, do you understand me?  For Christ’s sake, what did you think Bonding meant?  Am I just supposed to carry on without you?”

“Yeah well we’re not Bonded!  Which was your decision, by the way.”

"And here we are,” you say.  “So tell me now.  Look me in the eye, and tell me-- are you going to fight to keep your stupid ass alive, or are you just Hunting to court your own death?  Because if that’s the case, I’m gone.  Box up my shit and ship it to Garth’s place.  Look at me when I’m talking to you.”  You recenter his face, staring up into his eyes.  “I get we got a shelf life.  That doesn’t mean we just up and fucking quit.  Bonding means we don’t get to quit.”

You lunge forward and kiss him.  The handcuff chains rattle as he tries to bring his arms up.  Dean’s mouth opens and he's kissing you back, hard and furious and alive.  His smell, his taste, his presence, and something under your heart opens and blooms like a flower.  Every cell in your body wants, wants Dean, only Dean. 

When you finally come up for air, you rest your head on Dean’s chest, a hand pressed flat over his pounding heart.

It's quiet, so quiet you hear it more through his chest than his lips.  "Don’t."

You look up, at Dean’s glass-clear eyes and kiss-swollen lips.  Mission accomplished-- you're talking to Dean where Dean lives, down underneath the sarcasm and the bullshit.  A part of you -- a big part of you -- wants to really go to work.  With Alpha voice and dragging you around and giving you the silent treatment.  You want to teach him a lesson, brand him with it, scar it into his soul so he'll never forget.

Dean swallows and tries again.  "Don't go.  I don't want you to go."

You make a decision, and let it go.  "I don’t want you to either, Dean."  This kiss is soft, gentle.  Trying to calm racing hearts, cool the fever between you.  "When I thought you were gone I--" how had you felt?  You remember looking out on an empty snow-swept parking lot when you were a kid, cold wind tearing the skin from you face.  Desolate, that's the word.  "Are you hearing me?  Please tell me you're hearing me."

Dean nods.

"Will you fight for that?  For us?"

It holds the weight of a promise.  "Yes."

"Hold still a second."

Dean sits still as you unlock the cuffs, but the moment the second cuff falls away he snatches you into his arms and backs you into the storage unit’s sheet metal wall.  Sheer unadulterated want floods through you as you feel him hard through his jeans.  Fastenings get undone, clothes torn or shoved aside, Dean's knees buckle as you take his cock to the knot and you fuck right there, slamming yourself down as Dean's hands guide the motion, touching every bit of you that's been longing for him.

As you sag against Dean, his knot locked firm inside you and post-come sparks stinging your nerves, you shut your eyes and sigh.  The right move, the smart move?  You don't know.

You don't know a better way to fight the death in him.

---

AN2: Maple and Motor is a real place, and makes the best damn burgers in North Texas-- seriously, if you're ever traveling anywhere near Dallas, check it out. The title is taken from the Iron Maiden song, "Ghost of the Navigator." 'Eddie' is their unspokeszombie, Eddie The Head.

[toxichem]

✧･ﾟ ——— ❛ @galaxythixf . ❪ ill & injured . ❫ "I know I'm not well, but I'm alright." - Neon

✧･ﾟ ——— ❛   for a brief moment   ,   viper ' s eyes slipped shut   ,   her brow furrowing   ,   as she allowed herself one deep breath of relief   .   they wouldn ' t need a body bag for the filipina   ,   not today   .   at least   ,   if she could comm snark to the team   ,   she ' d make it to the end of the mission   .   pushing aside her distraction   ,   she swung her phantom up as footsteps approached the corner near her   ,   finger tensing in preparation   .   time to finish this mission   ,   to protect alpha earth and get neon some medical attention before she tried to cauterize another wound with her lightning   ,   again   .

❝   west side of site clear   ,   moving towards center of ao   .   any remaining bogeys   ?   ❞   her voice crackles across the comm   ,   heavily filtered through her mask before being warped further by the radio   .   the chemist held her weapon at a low ready   ,   sweeping through rooms and around corners   ,   mentally tallying the bodies of fallen enemies   .   one   ,   two   ,    three   ...   four behind her on the farside of the site   ,   and fifth unknown   ?   perhaps neutralized by neon   ,   given her call of being alright   .   ❝   neon   ,   what ' s your location   ?   i can perform first aid until evac gets here   .   ❞

clicking her comm off once more   ,   viper allowed herself to shakily exhale   ,   worry speeding her steps towards the last turn that would take her to the middle of the site   .   one quick breath   ,   two   ,   three   ...   and then   ,   back under control   .   anxiety tucked away to process later   ,   perhaps over a glass of wine   .   or whiskey   .   later   .

[the-pan-ace-writings]

Kill or Capture

Mind Over Badger

First Next Last Masterlist AO3

Sergeant Badger sat cramped in the back of the truck, pressing against his current Bravo team and the newly met Sergeant Mactavish. The night was surprisingly pleasant all considering, the weather wasn't horrid, the sweltering of the day subsided into cool night, and the mission was clear. Kill or Capture. It was hard to mess that up. Hopefully,

   The truck rumbled to a stop a few yards from where the transport Razor was. It was open in the rear awaiting for bravo team to load up, alpha team was already strapped in and going over weapons. Badger looked over to the end of the truck bed as it dropped open to let them out, Sergeant Mactavish or Soap as he overheard from his incessant talking jumped down out of the truck and strutted over to an imposing figure.

    He was big, taller than Badger and certainly taller than Soap, he looked disinterested in what was going on around him, and if you were watching closely you could see him speaking under his mask to an unseen figure from the coms. The bone color of a skull hard shell mask was mildly unsettling, especially when those deadpan eyes landed first on Badger and then settled on Soap.

   “Let's get ourselves a win, yeah, Lt” Soap sounded enthusiastic, clearly not put off by the Lieutenant. To Badger's surprise he reached forwards and lightly punched his shoulder before smirking “save ya a seat, sir” and sauntered off, gesturing to Badger to Follow. 

   Badger trailed him up to the Razor, he looked over his shoulder to see the skull clad Lieutenant shaking his head lightly and just barely caught the exasperated whisper of “Fucking hell” that esacped him.

   Fucking hell was right, all cramped together in the Razor, the Lieutenant now introduced as Ghost went over the mission parameters with both teams of marines. As he spoke Badger went over his weapons and counted munitions. He repeatedly redid the lashings of a longer handed sledgehammer on his kit, he had tuned out the briefing having heard it several times from when he was called upon for this mission,

   Bravo team is sweeping and clearing while alpha clears and secures building three. 

   He was still messing with the lashing on his kit when the Sergeant next to him that had previously been paying dutiful attention to the briefing kicked at his boot. Badger looked up from what he was doing, Soap was looking back at Ghost but had leaned over to speak quietly to him.

   “Quit messing with that, you look nervous.” he then lifted his chin to point out one of the marines looking at him warily. He grunted and frowned, He wasn't nervous. Hell he was rather excited to get back on the field, it was his first mission back after an unexpected medical leave. He schooled his face and re-did the lashings one more time, and settled with the kit between his feet and back pressed into the cold metal wall behind them leveling his head to once over the marines on their team. 

   “Roger” it was quiet, a whisper meant only for Soap to hear but he could have sworn he saw Ghost's head turn just slightly towards him. 

   It wasn't the first impression he had wanted for either his commanding officer and fellow Sergeant. 

   Pulling his kit back on he readied his rifle as the Razor landed the ramp opening into darkness of the field. They quickly exited and Badger adjusted his comms. 

   “Razor 1 all bravo deployed, moving to secondary HLZ” the Razor Pilots voice crackled though the comm link as he adjusted it to the right channel. 

   It was upon Ghosts orders that they started moving towards the first building, it was quiet besides the soft sound of boots on dry grass. So far it seems that they are undetected. They kept making their way forwards. 

   Badger saw light streaking in the sky just before the almost frantic call through the comms came through. 

   “All stations- Razor-1 is bracketed, we’re getting lit” He paused for a moment looking towards the sky, the lights had doubled and a stone settled in his stomach.  “Incoming- Flares! Flares!”

   The lights of the Razor were seen dancing in the air as it tried its best to maneuver around enemy fire, to try to get Alpha team to safety. A larger streak of light nearly smashed into the Razor, and the breathless whisper of a marine to his right caught his attention.

   “Shit that was close”

   Badger saw the missile streak up from the ground, it was clear it was going to hit.

   “Second missile” he called out as more of the group paused, they all started to turn towards Ghost who watched the Razor bloom into a fireball. 

   “Razor-1 going down! We’re going down!” The pilot cried over the comms just before impact was seen. Soap and Badger moved up to Ghost's position. Ghost brought a hand up to his com link, and Soap raised his hand to halt the team. 

   “Alpha what's your status?!” Ghost’s voice was urgent as it rumbled through the comms. No response.

   “Alpha, how Copy?”  Another long pause, Soap took another step and opened his mouth to speak right as the crackling of a clearly damaged comms unit started. 

   “Bravo-” he sounded out of breath, rattled deeply “Alpha is immobile, multiple critical” 

   Soap let out a sigh of relief, while Alpha team had taken losses they were still there. Panic crept into the Alpha leader’s voice and it nearly broke “oh shit-! We’re taking Effective fire!” 

   Ghost gestured for the team to start moving again, moving closer together as they started moving forwards at a sprint.

   “Alpha, were moving to building 1. Hold tight” Ghost ordered over the comms voice surprisingly steady for the full sprint it was in. Badger followed fast gesturing to the group of marines with him. 

   “Ghost, we need to secure that crash site now” Soap’s voice was also steady for the sprint, but was laced with concern wanting to help the stranded alpha team. 

   “First, we clear for Hassan, that takes the heat off alpha. Then we secure the crash site. Clear” he was stern and looked back coldly at Soap, who looked at little crestfallen before nodding.

   “Roger that” his voice didn't give away the emotion that flashed on his face, Badger nodded in affirmative with him. They were almost to the house, stone fencing and a small strip of land that passed over a swampy stretch of water was the only thing in their way. 

   “Force up to the house” Ghost led them with ease, taking point as he slowed the pace down for them to approach the house silently, they could hear the clamor of the soldiers inside as they approached the door silently. Ghost gesture to Badger, and steps back from his spot closest to the door. “Breacher up” 

   Badger pulled the hammer down from his kit, and readied to break the door in. He looked to Ghost for the confirmation. And with a simple nod from Ghost Badger broke into a crooked smile pulling the hammer back and slammed the top of it right next to the lock, it shattered sending splinters of wood into the air and surprising the soldiers inside. 

   Ghost and Soap pushed in at the same time as a smaller group of marines burst into the upper floor from the outside stairs. Badger stepped into the house as the last soldier dropped to the ground a pool of red leaking from him.

   “Let's crack on, yeah” Badger settled the hammer back where it was easy to reach and pushed forwards past the collection of dead from the house, Soap joined him in pace as Ghost took the lead again as they pressed towards the second house.

   “All stations, crash site is taking rocket fire from building two, second deck” The alpha leader’s voice broke over the comms again. Badger cursed quietly. 

   “Alpha, taking building two now. Hold Fast'' Ghost called back to them and brought them back to a run towards the second house. They could hear the soldiers readying for them, probably having seen the lights from a gun fire in the house. 

   “7-1 moving interior” Soap pushed into the building clearing the bottom as Badger followed closely. 

   Badger took the lead going up the stairs, rifle level and ready to clear any more enemy combatants. 

   “Pushing up to the second deck” Badger called out before pushing up the stairs. He heard the enemy soldiers moving about in the room closest to them as they entered the top level

   “Fire the Rockets! I will cover the door!” Badger took a step back and motioned for Soap to pass him.

   “They’re up here Soap.”  Soap had a flashbang in his grasp ready to be tossed in to the room. He nodded to Badger before the same smirk that he had when speaking to Ghost Appeared again as he tossed the flash in. 

   They pushed into the room, Soap finishing the soldier as Badger checked to ensure the room was actually clear. It was. Except they could hear the dragging of something heavy and metal just through thin walls. They hadn't found the rocketeer yet.

   Soap took lead pushing through to the open roof at the end of the hall, Badger watched him take a sharp turn and fire off into an unforeseen enemy. 

   “Ghost, enemy rocket down”  

   The room they entered was empty, poorly lit and extremely cramped, it barely had enough space for the desk and the two men. On the desk was an old laptop and it played a recording of Hassan spouting off about the death of their General, Soap let out a small sigh,

   “Of course this shit wouldn't be easy. Always too much to ask for huh?” he chuckled at the end of it and bumped into Badger with his shoulder. Badger just grunted in acknowledgment. He was right. Of course this shit wouldn't be easy, that's why they were sent for this mission. 

   “Ghost, we’re secure. Negative on Hassan.” Soap spoke into his comm link looking up at Badger, he looked back down at him shook his head and leaned over to close the rambling laptop silenting the room. 

   “Roger. Time to hit the crash site”  they both nodded out of habit at the order, Soap had started to leave the room. 

   “Got a video of Hassan here. Old laptop” Badger relayed back to ghost, it felt important that the video was playing as they died here. 

   “Hassan's their hero '' was short but almost with a slight bit of humor, Badger wasn't sure. It was hard to get a read on Ghost and he was positive that was by design. Soap though was much easier to read, to figure out what he was thinking. 

   “They’re going to need a new Hero” Soap barked a short laugh into the comms.

   “All Bravo, circle up outside”  Ghost cut him off, he let out another laugh

   He bumped into Badger again jokingly. 

   “Guff bastard might blow a gasket if we don't hurry” 

   “Dosser” Badger mumbled and pushed out the room down to the rv point with the rest of bravo. Once all collected they moved out towards the crash site, taking a brief pass at some of the only remaining decent cover left. Ghost halted the team and turned around. 

   “Soap, Badger- we’re moving to the crash site to help the wounded, Rest of you hold here and cover us” 

   “Ghost AQ’s working with some good gear”  soap warned. Ghost pointedly seemed to ignore the comment and instead called to Alpha team on the comms.

   “Alpha 0-2, bravo 0-7 building two is secure. We’re coming to you.”

   “Alpha copies all” the man sounded relieved, Badger didn't want to imagine the torment of crashing and being quite literally tossed into a firefight with help far away.

   Ghost gestures for them to follow, they formed up behind with Ghost at point, rifles ready they took off. 

   “Expect contact, AQ’s waiting for us” 

   They announced themselves as they rushed into the hull of the helicopter joining Alpha team. It wasn't the best sight, it was obvious that some died on impact, strapped into helmet askew, or partially dashed across the hull on the inside. The team leader was couched down next to a marine who looked quite battered, he had a gash on the outside of his arm, it was weeping into the makeshift bandaging the team leader had managed. The team leader looked absolutely dreadful. He too was battered and honestly looked a little dazed but nevertheless he had a weapon in hand defending through the window as he continued to render aid to his soldier. 

   “Damn good to see you guys” 

   “Bad dose of it huh sir?” Badger moved to help cover the window that the team leader kept popping up to, trying to help give him a break.

   “You're the one tellin’ me Badge”  he huffed and looked over to Ghost. “We got five KIA, one wounded, it's just my gun and I'm low on ammo” It was a tough go of things for sure. Badger looked away from the team leader reporting to Ghost and back out to look at the tree line. Something was off. Soap had taken to the window next to him asn was also looking out to the tree line. The team leader hadn't noticed anything outside or the sergeants searching out the windows and was instead starting to move the marine, he looked up to Ghost. “Help me move him” 

   “Lt, hate to break it to ya but we got movement out here” Soap tossed over his shoulder, he gestured for Badger to move out from where he had taken to watching the treeline. “Help him move em’”

   “No time. They’re here. Get your gun on that tree line.” it was clearly an order. And Badger snapped his head up to catch the Lieutenants eyes and watch them slide off of him to the tree line. Badger's lips pressed in a thin line, and shook his head clenching his jaw. He looked down to the team leader who was slightly struggling with the marine, and quickly grabbed the straps on his tac vest and dragged him closer to the ramp before settling him against the wall. He nodded his head back to the team leader, a wordless request for him to continue rendering medical attention. 

   “Got movement” Soap called again as he started firing out the window, he felt rather than saw the glare coming from Ghost. 

   “Serge-”

   “Roger sir.” Badger cut him off and pointedly avoided looking back at him instead taking station at the ramp. 

   All hell seemed to break out the second that Badger started firing, it was like men were just materializing out of the fire, quickly it seemed like they would be overrun. The team leader had started firing down the ramp with Badger as AQ soldiers kept getting closer and closer to the ramp. 

   “Fucking hell” Ghost cussed as he readied a grandade tossing it out the window out, “Cover!” Badger watched soap and Ghost backup from their windows turning to put their backs to the explosion, Badger just tensed and continued to fire out down the ramp. It wasn't helping, instead of clearing enemies it just shuffled them further down the hull and towards the ramp.

   “Watch the ramp Badger!” Ghost shouted over the clamor of the fight. “they're  pushing up!” 

   He was right they weren't just close to the ramp, they were on the ramp, he was going to be overrun, and the team leader was finally out of ammo and his own rifle was concerningly light. Badger wasn't necessarily thinking when he stepped forward towards the ramp, the first AQ soldier he could reach balked at him, it was insane. Badger grabbed him by the vest and threw him into another soldier stepping up behind him. Knocking them both over, he stepped forwards again stepping onto them as a third just turned the corner towards him. He snarled as he reared the butt of his rifle up and through the face of the soldier a warm splash reached Badger, there was only one more that was approaching up from the otherside of the ramp.

   “Badge!” soap called out the warning.

   He whirled, righting his rifle and the moment he was in sight he dropped heavy, a satisfying thump on the metal. There was squirming under his boot. He dropped his eyes down to the soldier that was trapped under the one that was thrown. A quick shot and another spattering across his face. He grimaced and looked back up at the treeline.  

   “Are we clear?” Soap sounded like the breath was knocked out of him, but he seemed to drop the watch on the window in favor of looking out to the mess that was the ramp.

   Badger was breathing heavily, and he wiped the gore from the butt of his rifle before returning to the cover of the hull of the helicopter. “For now” 

   Ghost tossed him another magazine for his rifle “Get in here, Soap cover the ramp, keep sharp on the tree line” he gestured for Badger to return further into the hull. Ghost seemed to have a dark aura around him, deadly stern with him, deadpan gaze turned murderous. Soap moved past him to take up his previous watch from the ramp, Badger faintly heard him speaking to the team leader and the marine. “Call for fire, I want close air on that treeline.”

   “rog , calling it in.” Badger nodded back to him trying not to incur the wrath of Ghost, he called for the fire, taking the moment to recheck the working of his rifle as both the Lieutenant and the other sergeant watched the treeline. Everything was in working order and he finished on the comms.

   “Lieutenant, CAS is three minutes out” 

   “Ghost we’ve got incoming!” Soap hollered again and pointed out to the treeline. Ghost made and affirmative sound and turned back to the window, he reached over to where Badger was starting to take sentry at and roughly pushed up on the barrel of his rifle before Badger had it set to start firing. 

  “Use this side this time damnit” and he started firing out the window again, Badger watched as each shot went home with precision, men dropping like wet paper. 

   “Rog, sir” Badger was brief and started his own barrage. 

   “Air support inbound” the team leader called out fiddling with his own coms. He heard Ghost curse under his breath again and he turned to see what had caused it. A genadire was too close and already launched. “Incoming!’ “Take cover!”

   Badger dropped against the hull of the helicopter clasping his hands behind his head tucking his face into his knees, he watched as Ghost did the same. The hull rocked severely and nearly knocked Soap down from where he was crouched on one knee. 

   “Holy show!” Badger popped back up. He could only see two more combatants. They were quickly taken care of. Soap called a clear on his side now at the ramp again.

   “Badger, patch us through to air support” Badger made the affirmative and started working with his command control, Soap had walked back further into the hull and they all stood together. 

   “Ghost we should fall back to the house” Soap looked towards the team leader as he spoke, Badger could see Ghost shake his head.

   “Negative- we golf or we push forward. Hassan’s still out there” Badger made a small whoop of success, everyone's coms sparked to life as the voice of airsupport broke in.

   “7 actual, kilo 0-1. Fire is one mike out” 

   “Kilo 0-1, you’re cleared hot on anything forward of our position. Danger Close approved.” Ghost confirmed. He motioned for them to clear out back towards the rest of Bravo team. 

   The team leader stood up from worrying over the marine, and seemed to be hesitating, Badger stepped up next to the leader and hummed in question.

   “I don't think i can carry him.” The marine was very much out of it but it seems like his bleeding had become minimal. Badger motioned for him to step a side and leaned down, collecting the marine over his shoulders. He looped his arm behind the marines knee and grabbed his loose arm in one hand, his remaining free hand grasping his rifle as he stepped out of the helicopter to start on his way to the rest of Bravo team.

   When they made it back to the RV point he handed off the injured marine to another asking the team leader to keep with the other injured. Ghost had them set off towards the third house as soon as Badger was unburdened.

   The third building was a cake walk compared to the hellscape firefight of the helicopter crash, and it was fast too badger could’ve sworn it was cleared faster than it took for them to reach the building, trying to navigate the ruins of the road from the airstrike they had called in. 

   The warehouse was big and full of crates and shipping containers, they cracked open a few of the crates to reveal weapons, it was one of the largest weapon caches that Badger had seen in his life, they could supply a small army with this warehouse.

   He was wandering around the warehouse till he heard Soap call out for him. Soap was standing in front of a large shipping container that the lock was undone on, he motioned for Badger to ready his rifle so that he could clear it as Soap opened the door further.

   He rushed in and froze in shock, there was nothing to clear but there was a whole lot of tech that looked suspiciously like missile controls. Soap opened the container further and stepped up next to Badger, the rest of the team filtering behind them, 

   “What the fuck is this?” Badger whispered, Ghost had stepped up to join them again looking around the container,

   “It's all in english”

   They all stepped back from the controls 

   “Steaming Jesus.”    “Ballistic missiles.”

   “Its a mobile launcher '' Soap sounded in awe almost as if he was simply just impressed with the fact that he was in front of one of the largest ballistic missiles Badger had seen. What did Hassan need a ballistic missile for?

   “These’ll go 1,000 miles”  Badger whispered, that's alot of possible targets, this just got a lot bigger than he thought. 

   “At least” Ghost agreed with him. Soap took another step back and started walking around the shipping container,

   “How the hell did Iran get their hands on this?”

   “Badger, get us through to Laswell”

   “Rodger, stand by” he clicked his com to the right channel “Badger to watcher-1, How copy” 

   “This is watcher-1, send traffic”

   Ghost picked up from the comms, badger went to follow soap trying to to figure out what he's was looking for,

   “Laswell this is Ghost, we got something”

   “Tell me you found Hassan '' She sounded almost relieved, hoping desperately for a mission success. Badger helped Soap on to a stack of crates and watched as he started to pull on tarps, he was like a hound on a trail, zero into something. He pulled the tarp all the way down and it pooled at Badger's feet, he looked up to see what Soap just uncovered.

   An American flag painted on the side of a ballistic missile.

   “By the light, fucking hell” Badger looked to Soap who looked just as surprised, 

   “Ghost, take a look at this” Ghost rounded the corner and looked a little miffed that soap had climbed so far up before soap took a slight step back letting ghost see the flag, he paused. 

   “Ghost, do you have Hassan?” Laswell questioned over the comms again. 

   “Negative, we found a weapons cache. Hassan's got missiles… they’re American.” There was a small gasp of surprise before the comms cut out completely. It was a few moments of silence all three of them looking at each other trying to take in the meaning of Hassan having access to American missiles. 

   “0-7 this is golden eagle actual, repeat your last” It was Shepherd, and he sounded right pissed.

   “I say again- Hassan has American missiles”

   More silence, Badger jerked his head at soap requesting for him to get down, he had a sinking suspicion that they'd be on the move quiet soon. Ghost took a step back assuming soap was to jump down again like he did the truck earlier in the evening but instead he sat down and surprisingly pushed on Badger's shoulder to steady himself to get down. Badger opened his mouth to protest but the crackling of the comms interrupted him,

   “Golden Eagle actual to Ghost- move your tram and call for fire, I want those weapons destroyed” 

   “Roger that, Actual”

   They all stared for another moment before Ghost turned away to order the rest of Bravo out to the new exfil point. Soap swaggered behind him looking like he couldn't be bothered by the fact that they had just been ordered to destroy american missiles instead of taking them and the control center into custody, it feels like they're letting a lot of important information go to fire. 

   “Badger, are you coming or you wanna join the missile?” Soap hollered back to him. He shook his head, he was thinking too much for someone that was just supposed to follow orders, his stomach turned as he jogged to catch up. 

   They didn't have to wait long for another Razor to come collect them, and when it landed they piled in the injured first, strapping them securely and letting the medic that came with the razor to do their work. Ghost Soap and Badger stood outside the Razor, the blades whipping up the dirt around them as they waited for the airstrike to land just over the ridge so they could report confirmation of destruction.

   As the ridge lit up Soap leaned over into Badger's space, he took a half step away and looked down at Soap who was holding out a cleanish rag. Badger looked back stupidly at him confused. 

   Soap smirked again and with a chuckle pushed it towards him again, “Badge you've got-” He waved his in front of his face “all over you, you look frightening” Badger stared for a moment longer before taking it from him and cleaning himself up, offering a thanks back. Soap had turned back to watch the ridge again and Badger caught Ghost eyes wandering while he finished wiping his face, he hopped it cleaned up a bit the rag looked absolutely horrid when he was finished, 

  “Good enough?” he looked down at Soap for an answer but Ghost responded

   “Like a right Bloke, now let's load up and get the hell outta here” 

First Next Last Masterlist AO3

alrighty guys I wanna give yall some more background on Badger. He is the definition of big boy, thick im tell yall, hes a solid dude and not to be messed with. he stern but a low key kinda nervous or antsy. Im trying to write him as irish in the most not shoved in your face kind of way, and very much a pagan dude (i dont really plan on this coming up, but if he says some weird things it’s probably that, most of it is stuff I say or do with) but hes hair is important to him and he braid it back to keep in regulations and keeps a manageable beard thats well trimmed as well. He has a sister named otter that I dont think will come up much, but she is a signalman (Radio) and Badger used to be apart of her attachment mostly with the intention of keep the guy with the radio alive. This is why he becomes a brawler. please ask me more questions i would love to answer them for you!

[marvelmusing]

Biology Lessons

Alpha!Modern!Laszlo Kreizler x Omega!Fem!Reader

My Masterlist

A/N: I was curious about the biology of A/B/O and ended up reading a lot of Wikipedia pages, 3000 words and a small Alpha Laszlo obsession later here we are

WARNINGS: 18+ content, unprotected smut, A/B/O dynamics, reader has female anatomy but no gender specific pronouns have been used (if there have been please let me know)

You and Laszlo had been together for two years. During this time you had been intimate on plenty of occasions, however you’d always ignored your secondary sex. When together, you were just two lovers, not an Alpha and Omega. You had limited experience with dealing with your biology and Laszlo had respected your decision to stay on your suppressants. He, in turn, had begun taking some of the weaker forms of suppressants. The kind that reduced his rut to a few days that he spent at John’s house. This situation worked well, until you reached the point where you changed your mind and wanted to come off your suppressants. You trusted Laszlo to help you through it and he was more than eager to take care of you.

“Have you ever had a heat?” Laszlo asks you. The two of you are sitting in his downstairs office at his house. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting a glow over Laszlo’s face as he watches you. Your eyes wander as you think about it.

“Once or twice when I first presented. But I started on suppressants pretty young.” He frowns a little, and you know his medical side disapproves. “We never learnt much about it in school.” You explain, trying to justify your decision. He nods immediately,

“Of course. The education system is curated for the success of Alphas. That, and sex education regarding Omegas is still often considered taboo.” He places a hand on your knee, “That’s not your fault, drágám.” You nod, keeping your focus on the hem of the robe you’re wearing - Laszlo’s bathrobe. “Would you like me to explain it to you?” Your face warms at the thought, and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to.”

“No, but I’d like to. I think you deserve to know about yourself.” You give him a small nod. He smiles kindly at you and beckons you closer. When you approach him, he pulls you into his lap. “What would you like to know?” He asks you. You shrug slightly, fiddling with your fingers.

“I don’t know.” You admit quietly. He hums in thought, before asking you,

“How would you describe my scent?” You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as you inhale his scent. He smiles softly, his hand resting at the back of your neck, knowing that his scent will take the edge off your nerves. Your eyes flutter open as a small smile tugs at your lips.

“It’s like the citrus soap from my grandmother’s house, and the smell of new books, and your office, and like home.” You tell him and he squeezes the back of your neck affectionately.

“You smell like a field of fresh flowers, clean linen, and warm sugared tea. Soft and sweet, and safe.” He admits. You smile up at him as you lean your temple against his shoulder. He taps your nose gently with the tip of his finger. “The scent receptors in your nose pick up my scent and your body’s response depends on how appealing you find it.”

“Very appealing.” You admit against his neck and he hums affectionately.

“This is what helps you decide on my suitability as a mate. As well as other factors such as aesthetics, personality, and overall attraction.”

“That, and you’re one of the kindest, most loving men I’ve ever met.” He looks down, never used to the praise you always give him. His smile widens as he leans in to kiss your cheek.

“Enough flattery from you. It’s time for our lesson.” He tightens his hold on you as you smile at him, resting his weaker hand on your thigh. “Heat cycles occur once every season, so usually four in a year. The heat itself lasts between five and ten days, but that depends on the person.” His thumb skims across the skin of your bare legs lightly. “While Omegas can be sexually active outside of their heat, it is much more pleasurable during their cycle.” You’ve always loved listening to him talk, but hearing him explain all this to you has your body melting against his as your eyes remain fixed on his lips as he speaks. “Did you know that, as your mate, I may be able to trigger your heat?” You blink at him in surprise. You didn’t know that. “It isn’t always possible, but would you like me to try?” He asks, noticing your interest. You nod cautiously, and he takes your hands as he guides you off his lap, before pulling you towards the centre of his office. He sits you down on his desk with your legs parted, and he stands between them. He places his warm hands on your thighs, and nuzzles his nose against your neck. “You know where your scent glands are, yes?” You nod. You tap your finger against the ones on each side of your throat, then bare your wrists to him to show him the areas. You frown before mentioning,

“There’s another pair, I think, but I don’t know where they are.” He smiles proudly at you,

“Correct. There is one here, and here.” He tells you, trailing his fingers along each of your thighs. “They’re a little different from your other ones, which is why most people forget about them.” He squeezes your thighs tenderly as he continues his explanation. “Their main purpose is so that when you go into heat your slick will smell of your Alpha, and tell everyone that you’re taken.” You swallow the whine in your throat, but he knows the effect he’s having on you already. “How long have you been off your suppressants?” He asks you. He knows the answer of course, but he wants to see if your mind is still functioning.

“Around two weeks.” He nods,

“The perfect time to trigger your heat. That is of course if you want to?” You nod hurriedly,

“Please.” He steps closer,

“All I need to do is apply a little pressure here,” the pads of his fingers press against the glands in your thighs. He smiles at the sight of your head falling back, bearing your neck to him. “A little stimulus here.” His tongue moves across the pulse of your throat, sending a shudder down your spine. “And for you to take a nice deep breath.” You do as he says, your body responding instantly to his pheromones. He smells the change in your scent and smiles. “There you go, good Omega.” He coos. You whine at the warmth spreading slowly through your body as you cling to your Alpha. “You should be feeling rather warm now.” You nod your head a few times in agreement. He hums, “And I can smell your slick already.” He nuzzles his lips against your neck, and you whine for him. “By triggering your heat, we’ve skipped the pre-heat nesting stage. But don’t worry Omega, I’ve prepared the bed for you, and you can fix it up just how you like it tomorrow.” You’re beginning to pant and a shimmer of sweat is coating your skin as your fingers tug at his clothing. His words certainly aren’t helping either. He cups your face. “But right now, I think my Omega needs my knot, yes?” You nod hurriedly,

“Alpha, please.” You loop your arms around his neck, wrapping your legs around his torso, and he hooks his hands underneath your thighs. He lifts you from his desk and takes you up to the bed. When you see the bed set up, a large number of pillows at one end, blankets bunched up the sides, and the whole place smells of Laszlo’s cologne. “Laszlo.” You whisper softly, as the sight pulls on your heartstrings.

“I wanted everything to be perfect.” He admits, leaning in to kiss you.

“You’re here, it couldn’t be more perfect.” You tell him through the kiss. You can feel his grin as his mouth moves against yours, the back of your legs meeting the bed, and he guides you down carefully. He pulls at the belt of the bathrobe, letting it fall open and taking a moment to admire you. He pulls away to remove his clothes, and you whimper at the lack of contact. You take this moment as an opportunity to slip the robe from your body, abandoning it on the floor. You turn onto your stomach, hands smoothing up the bedsheets to rest above your head. Hips shifting needily, you arch your back, your knees digging into the mattress. Once he’s undressed, Laszlo looks back at you and his jaw nearly drops, though he’s quick to recover.

“Such a pretty picture, my beautiful Omega, already presenting for me.” He settles between your open thighs, leaning his body over yours. You rut your hips back against his, desperate for any sort of friction. You feel his smirk as his mouth moves across your shoulder. His hand descends between your thighs, fingers pressing against your warm folds. “And you’re so wet already, drágám.” He slips his finger deep into you, drawing a needy gasp from your lips.

“Laszlo, Alpha, please.”

“More?”

“Yes, yes please.” He removes his finger, leaving you whining, your hips chasing him. His hands curl around your waist, squeezing you gently as he tuts.

“Patience Omega.” But you don’t have to wait long, as he lines himself up to your entrance. In one fluid motion he’s filled you up, your eyes squeezed shut and your back arching against the mattress. “Such a perfect fit.” He moans against your neck, his accent getting thicker as you take in every inch of him. He kisses your shoulder delicately.

“Tell me when I can move, édesem.” You take a few gasping breaths, trying to become accustomed to the haze filling your mind. He notices your struggle. “Relax Omega. Let me take care of you.” A tiny whine catches in your throat, then you’re nodding.

“Please, Alpha.” His forehead presses between your shoulder blades as he moves in and out of you. Every single one of your moans and gasps has him nearing the edge of his restraint. Whilst Laszlo wants to focus on you, his need is slowly growing and he wants to ensure you want this.

“Drágám, darling Omega,” he rasps out. “I don’t think I can hold back for much longer.”

“Don’t, please. Don’t hold back.” That’s all it takes for his pace to increase. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs as he pushes you closer. You press your forehead hard against the plush of the mattress as you feel his knot pushing against your entrance. You whine, desperate for him to fill you completely. Growling against the skin of your back, nails gripping onto your hips, he drives his hips harder against yours. You don’t feel the thin red lines trailing down your thighs as you clench around him. “Are you ready for my knot, Omega? I know you’re close.” You can’t reply. Your mind is completely lost to the feeling of your Alpha taking you to pieces. “I need you to come, so my knot can stuff you full.” As soon as he knows you’re about to come he pushes his knot into you. Your eyes roll back, and you come hard with a broken cry. Only a moment later Laszlo comes as well, his lips grazing down your spine as he does. His knot swells, ensuring none of your slick escapes. Your body goes slack as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. You feel Laszlo’s breathing tickle the skin of your back as it slowly returns to normal. He shifts his weight slightly. “This may feel a little odd.” He warns you. He takes hold of your leg and moves it to the other side of him, effectively spinning you around and lying you down with your back to the mattress. You gasp a little at the change in position, his knot still holding deep inside you. “Now this is better.” He remarks, leaning down to kiss your lips. He takes your hands in his own, letting them run down your spent body. “Can you feel how full you are?” He pushes your hands over your abdomen, your fingers skimming over the bulge caused by his knot. “You did so well Omega, letting me fill you up like this.” He leans forward, nuzzling against your neck. “Such a brave Omega.” He coos. His praises and gentle touches soon have you coming back to your senses. Laszlo notices when the haze has cleared from your eyes, and gives you a soft smile.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hello.” The two of you stay in each other’s arms for a while, simply enjoying the close proximity to one another. You rub your fingers over his chest, before reaching up to curl them into the hair at the back of his neck.

“Laszlo,” you say softly, tilting your head back to bear your neck to him. “Can I have your mark?” He seems a little taken aback by your request.

“You- you want…”

“To be yours.” You watch his eyes darken slightly, and he claims your lips again. When he pulls away you’re breathless again.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You tell him. “That is, of course, if you want me.”

“Édesem, you are my world.” You both share a tender smile. He cradles the side of your face before tilting your head back. He nuzzles his lips gently against your throat. “With your current level of endorphins you shouldn’t feel too much pain…”

“I love you.” You interrupt him, your smile wide.

“I love you too, drágám.” He presses a soft kiss to the mating gland at your throat, before sinking his teeth down. You clench your teeth, nails digging into the sheets at the sharp sting of your skin breaking. Then, a wave of pleasure rolls through you as your bond snaps into place. You feel Laszlo lapping at the small wound. “All good?” He asks you. You nod with a smile.

“Though, if you bring up that saliva is a natural healing agent I will kick you out of bed.” He chuckles.

“Before I get my own mark. How cruel.” You frown at him.

“What?”

“Alphas also have a mating gland.” You nod, your frown still present,

“I didn’t think- I’ve never seen-“

“Very few Alphas feel the need to wear their mate’s mark. However, I want the world to know I’m yours.” He smiles, watching the primal urge shimmer in your eyes, though he senses your lingering hesitance. “It won’t hurt me, drágám.” Your eyes flicker down to his neck, and he leans closer. “Right here.” He guides you to the spot against his throat. You cup his face carefully, taking a moment to nuzzle against his neck, breathing in his scent. “Don’t be scared Omega. Take what’s yours.” You sink your teeth into his throat, sucking gently at the break of his skin. You feel him shudder against you as your bond strengthens. You trace your tongue carefully along the wound. He leans down to kiss you again, your first kiss as a mated couple. You share a few more slow, loving kisses before Laszlo pulls away. He reaches down towards the bottom of the bed, pulling out a towel and lying it beneath your hips. You frown lightly at him. “Can’t have our nest getting dirty, can we?” Your face morphs into an affectionate smile. Your mate really does think of everything. You whimper when he pulls out, but he rubs your thighs reassuringly and presses kisses over your face. You giggle softly and he beams at you. He ensures the majority of the mess is soaked up by the towel before discarding it. He presses a kiss to your temple, “I’ll be right back Omega.” He’s gone for under thirty seconds, but you both feel the pull of your bond. When it’s fresh like this you can’t be parted for long. He returns with some wet wipes, and begins to clean the two of you up. The coolness soothes you, pushing the heat symptoms even further away. You smile softly at Laszlo and he shares your smile as the two of you spend a moment admiring one another. He throws the wipes away and settles down by your side. You nuzzle against him, purring contentedly. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep drágám.”

•*•*•*•

Early the next morning, Laszlo is stirred from his sleep by some sort of movement at his side. The bedroom is still in semi-darkness, the sun hasn’t quite risen into the sky yet, but there’s enough light to see by. The sight before him warms his heart. You’re adjusting a pillow beside you, tucking it under the quilt to secure the wall of your nest. You have one of his shirts tucked under your arm, and nuzzle into one of the pillows.

“What are you doing, Omega?” He asks, his voice still thick with sleep. He can feel your blush as you mumble,

“Just getting comfortable.” He chuckles softly, pulling himself closer to you. You immediately melt into his arms, your body lying flush against his chest. He trails a hand down your spine, and despite your shiver, he can feel your body heat increasing.

“Ready to go again?” He suggests. You pout, the tiredness behind your eyes creeping up on you despite the slick gathering between your thighs.

“M’ tired.” You mumble against his chest.

“I know you are.” He coos, guiding your hips towards his. “But all you need to do is be a good Omega and keep me warm.” You sigh in relief at the feeling of him filling you, eyes fluttering shut as he continues, his accent thickening. “Yes, that’s all your heat-ridden body’s good for, isn’t it?” He feels you tighten at his words and he groans against your neck. “Don’t worry Omega, I’m going to take such good care of you.”

[rubykgrant]

(Hey, I thought of this really nice “you’re not my girlfriend” conversation between Tex and Church for my RVB story-line, typed it out here so I wouldn’t forget it, and now I’m gonna share it~)

“I guess we don’t need Caboose to give you the tutorial about everything in your life this time, right?” Tex asked, gently easing herself down to sit beside him on the bed. Church didn’t laugh- he couldn’t quite do that yet, his new lungs weren’t strong enough, and he was barely used to breathing normally, the weird broken-rhythm of laughter was a little too much for him to handle...

However, he smiled at her, and let out a loud amused huff he exhaled through his nose. That was good enough.

“You know that you’re Church, you know who the Reds are, you know all your Blue buddies, you know Wash and Doc, you know who Carolina is, and you know ME,” Tex turned toward him just a little more, tilting her head to one side.

“Yeah... I know who they all are,” Church agreed. His voice still sounded so weak and uncertain, but there was that familiar- what was the word to describe his voice?- CRACKLE to it. She loved hearing his voice again, after so long. “I know me ‘n Tucker... we were at Blood Gulch together first, and then Caboose was our rookie... and he killed me with the tank”

He huffed once more, and Tex chuckled.

“The Reds were over there at their base in the canyon... Grif and Simmons would just stand around talking all day... and Sarge yelled all day. Donut was their rookie... and you got him with that grenade,” he continued.

“Yeah, well... he tagged me back,” Tex said with a shrug, like it was just two friends who had a pillow-fight.

“Mmm-hmm. Doc showed up to be a medic for both teams... and he got your O’Malley... but then he kinda got his own O’Malley, didn’t he?” Church looked up at her, and Tex nodded.

“I remember Grif’s sister showed up, I know her name is Kai now, and Tucker had his weird alien baby, Junior...” Church paused a moment, thinking. Tex waited.

 “I remember... Wash and Caboose came and found me after Blood Gulch, and then I had to deal with all that stuff with... with the Meta,” he paused once more, and Tex could see flickers of colorful light spark around him. “He used to be Agent Maine. The AI with him were my Fragments. Because I’m the Alpha,”

“That’s right,” she said softly, trying to let him know he could continue or stop, either way was alright.

“Then I was gone, we were all gone... except for Epsilon. He- he got to see everybody again, and now I kind of... I remember the things he did. I remember him getting to know Carolina... I never got to meet her before, but now I know her...” Church turned his gaze upward, staring at the ceiling, but not really looking at it. Chronologically, it was easy to separate the things Epsilon did and what he had done, but now that the information and memories were with him, he actually FELT the emotions Epsilon had at the time of certain events. Or, maybe he just happened to feel the same way Epsilon did... it came to the same result, either way.

Tex didn’t want him to start crying right now; it was a bitch to deal with, hot tears making your eyes itch, your nose started running, and worst of all, it made it hard to breathe. She could handle comforting him, but if he started crying thinking about Epsilon being Deconstructed and all the memories attached to Carolina and what the Director did to them both (did to them ALL), he’d literally get all choked-up. So, Tex tried to distract him.

“Sounds like you know what is what, and who is who... but, seriously? The only significant memory you mention about me is the part with Donut and the grenade?” she smiled at him, and he looked back at her. “I thought I left more of an impact. Is that all you have to say about your girlfriend?”

“You aren’t my girlfriend...”

Oh.

Well, she probably should have expected that. After all, their whole “relationship” as a couple had been borrowed memories from other people, and even then, they were “exes”. She even had a whole conversation with Epsilon, that Church was now aware of, involving how she DIDN’T just want to be seen as “the girlfriend”.

Their relationship before all that, as the Alpha and Beta AI had been different. When they were just themselves, and nobody else was trying to manipulate them for other purposes... it was a plain and simple kind of affection and fondness. “Love” was probably a good word for it, but they never even got the chance to truly experience that feeling; she had been taken away, he had been tortured, and somehow they never managed to be together even though they kept showing up in each other’s lives.

It was kind of silly now, expecting that he would still... after all the times she pushed him away, and he pushed back, a weird form of emotional tug-of-war that didn’t involve bringing the other closer, but instead telling them to get lost... and then running after them. She should have known he didn’t want that any more. She didn’t either... and OK, maybe that means he doesn’t want HER anymore, not like THAT, and she can deal with it, they can still be alright-

“I mean, we haven’t even been out on a DATE. You need to do that, right? Go on a few dates with somebody... and then if you both like each other, you keep dating. So, maybe we should... go out. On a date. And then, if you like me, I can be your boyfriend... and you can be my girlfriend. I already know I like you,” he smiled at her, with a quirky-smug smirk that just seemed so perfectly CHURCH, what else would his smile possibly look like?

“Leonard Church!” she looked down at him, her surprise only slightly exaggerated. “Was that your sneaky way of asking me out? And are you actually trying to ask if I LIKE-LIKE you?”

“I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon, though...” he told her, nodding once with his weak neck muscles. “Are you OK waiting for a while?”

“Hell, we’ve BOTH waited for a long time, what’s another couple of months?” Tex leaned back into the pillows, and threw one arm around him to gently cradle his head. “Besides... you’re worth the wait. And just so we’re clear, I like-like you!”

“I like-like you, too... bitch”

“Asshole~”

[gotnofucks]

Going Against Nature

Pairing: dark!alpha!Steve x reader, dark!alpha!Bucky x reader

Summary: Steve and Bucky would change the laws of nature if that’s what would take to make you theirs. 

or

Steve and Bucky don’t like it when you smell like Peter Parker.

Words: 4.9k

Warnings: NON-CON, breeding kink, smut, FORCED BONDING, poor Peter, language, violence, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Peter is an adult!!

MASTERLIST

 +++++

You knew something was off the moment you entered your house. Energy crackled in air as you moved in, the smell in the air absolutely Alpha, and that made no sense since you were a beta. Three different alpha scents overlapped each other, but you recognized only Peter’s, your best friend’s. You crossed the hall to your living room, your dagger in your hand. Peter’s scent was emanating such fear as you had never sensed before, and you would kill anyone who harmed a hair on his head.

You turned the last corner and entered the living room, stopping short in your tracks at the sight that met your eyes. You rushed forward, the dagger falling from your hand as you knelt in front of Peter, bloodied and tied to a chair in the center of the room.

“Peter! Oh my god, what happened Peter?” You asked, your hands cupping his puffed face. His eyes were swollen shut, a groan escaping his lips when your cold hands met his feverish skin.

“Y/n…” It seemed as if it took all his energy to whisper your name and you heart broke seeing your best friend this way.

“Hey hey, calm down. I’m here, I am gonna let you out of these ropes. Pete! Keep your eyes open!” You patted his cheek, making his eyes flutter. It took him a moment to focus on your worried face but when his eyes locked on yours, anguish and panic filled them.

“Y/n, no! Go away, run. They are here. GO!” Peter shouted, struggling in the ropes as if he just wanted to push you away from here.

“Peter, what are you talking about. Lemme cut these ropes.” You turned back to get your dagger but found it missing. Your brow furrowed, you remembered dropping it when you rushed to Peter.

“Run” Peter croaked and you looked at him over your shoulder, your body stiffening as what Peter had said finally clicked.

They are here

Whoever had hurt him was still in your house. Two alphas. You could smell their scent, somewhat familiar but you couldn’t remember exactly whom. As a Beta you didn’t pay much attention to alphas, other than those closest to you. But these must be two very strong alphas to have hurt Peter, an enhanced avenger.

You stood up cautiously, eyes scanning every part of the room. You weren’t an avenger but a trained analyst and could hold your own. Blood stained your furniture, the TV console disturbed and the small knickknacks you decorated your house with strewn about. Clear signs of struggle. You took in the two glasses sitting on your table, the dirt staining your otherwise clean rug and the disturbed cushions on the couch.  Whoever they were, they made themselves home. And they hurt Peter.

“I know you are here, come out. You know I am unarmed, so there really is no reason to hide.” You called out loud, your voice strong despite the heaviness in your heart. Anyone who could do that to Peter would very easily take you down. You crept back towards Peter, eyes still taking every inch of your house even as your hand touched his cheek. Peter whimpered, in pain or concern you didn’t know.

“Hold on for me Pete, I’m gonna get us out of here. No one’s gonna hurt you on my watch.” You told him, not even sure if he was following what you said.

When no one emerged for a couple of minutes, you wondered if it will be safe running to your kitchen to get another weapon, or the gun that you hid in your bedroom. You didn’t have time to think over why anyone would harm Peter in your house of all places. When you worked with Shield and the avengers, shit happened for no reason at all. You took a risk and turned your back to the door, kneeling before Peter again. You tested the ropes with your hands and huffed when you found them tight.

“Hey Pete, can’t you hear me? I’m here with you, all right? You just hold on for me sweetie.” Your voice cracked just a little over the pathetic whimper that escaped Peter’s mouth. You were just a little older to him, and you knew no one who would harm such a sweetheart as him. Your hand pushed his hair away from his forehead, soft over the cuts that littered his body.

“You may wanna stop touching him now, cupcake.” A voice behind you called suddenly and you whipped around, stance wide and protective in front of Peter. Before you could even say anything, your eyes widened in shock.

“Sargent Barnes?” You sputtered, absolutely not expecting him to be here. But then you sniffed the air, and his scent filled your lungs, and you finally realized why it was familiar. You worked in the same tower as him, sometimes directly with him. And if he was here, then the other scent must belong to –

“Hello Y/n, how are you?” Captain America asked, appearing from behind Bucky.

“I – what? You both?” You brain had short circuited. You thought they would be the people you would report this to, not the ones responsible for it.

“Sorry for the mess, cupcake. But Spidey-boy here gave us a good fight.” Bucky remarked, his head cocked to the side.

Anger and fear rose like bile in your chest, your face heating with emotion.

“You hurt him! Why?”

Steve ambled towards you and you shifted, your body angling in a way to hide Peter from their sight. He stopped in his tracks, brows raising and eyes narrowing.

“Don’t come near him, let us leave.” You hoped your voice was commanding but seeing Steve fold his arms across his chest in annoyance your confidence crumbled.

“No need to get so defensive cupcake. The kid’s been asking for it for ages.” Bucky scoffed, still standing between you and the exit.

“He – he is a kid. The nicest goddamn person I know. Why would you hurt him?” You questioned, your guard on. Any small sign of movement and you were ready to fight.

“Why?” Steve gave a humorless laugh. “Because he’s been stinking you up with his scent. We can’t go a day without you smelling like him, his scent clinging all over you.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the ground. What the fuck? “Excuse me?”

“Sweetie, you can’t go smelling like another alpha. We don’t like it, and we thought we needed to have a talk with the kid about it. Man to man, you know. But unfortunately, he didn’t agree with our thoughts. Poor boy thought he’d be able to fight us for your honor”

Steve’s word hit your heart like a dagger, and you stumbled back closer to Peter. You didn’t know what the fuck was happening, but it didn’t seem to be faring well for you. Steve and Bucky seemed to have lost their fucking minds, and you needed to escape. Go someone far, maybe find Tony Stark and let him know that his teammates beat up his protégé.

“I don’t understand,” You fretted.

“I’ll explain if you move away from the boy and come here. We won’t hurt you, you gotta believe me cupcake.” Bucky promised coming forward and held out his hand for you.

You shook your head and your hands found Peter who was almost unconscious with blood loss now. Steve growled when your hands stayed on Peter’s shoulders and Bucky tensed.

“The kid is suffering sweetie. You don’t want him to die, do you? Come here, and we’ll treat him. Get those cuts bandaged and some pain killers in his body. Sounds good?” Steve asked.

You looked at Peter and squeezed his shoulder. He groaned and your heart gave away. You nodded to Steve, and Bucky came forward again, his hand held out. You took it slowly and Bucky drew you closer to himself, taking you away from Peter. Your eyes followed Steve who was across the room now with a medical bag in hand, antiseptic wipes and butterfly strips spread before him.

“Please don’t hurt him, he’s my best friend.” You said softly and Bucky’s hand wrapped around your waist. You stiffened as he moved in your space and sniffed at your neck.

“We won’t hurt him anymore cupcake,” Bucky assured you. “But we gotta get his smell off you. The longer it stays on you, the more I wanna kill him.”

You peered into Bucky’s face, acutely aware of Steve tending to Peter’s wounds from the corner of your eyes.

“What’s happening here? I don’t understand why you’re doing whatever you’re doing. You’re supposed to be the good guys” You said and heard Steve chuckling.

“We are the good guys, but we get mad when teenage guys who can’t even grow a beard start touching what doesn’t belong to them. He put his hands on you, on what’s ours. We couldn’t let that go, not when he refused to stop seeing you.”

Your nose scrunched in confusion and fear. You were not stupid enough to try and fight them. You were an analyst because you could judge a situation and how dangerous it is. Right now, your odds of getting away with Peter were next to none, especially with him in such a delicate condition. However, you still didn’t understand what they meant.

“I don’t belong to you. You can’t claim me” You countered; your eyes now trained on Peter who flinched with every swipe of medicine.

“Can’t we?” Bucky whispered right in your ears making you shiver at the close proximity. You placed a hand on his chest and pushed, but he barely even moved.

“Of course, you can’t. I am not an omega. You…you both are alphas. You can’t claim a beta.”

Bucky and Steve looked at each other knowingly and shared a small, secret laugh. Bucky had maneuvered himself behind you now, both arms holding yours and securing them in front of you. His chin rested on your head, the slight stubble grazing your neck.

“You’re not an omega yet.” Bucky told you and hugged you to himself and your breath sharpened.  

Steve finished patching Peter up and you were thankful he had been honest and gentle. He offered him some water from a glass and Peter gulped it greedily, also swallowing the pills Steve offered. His eyes were now open, and he looked at you across the room in Bucky’s arms with sadness in his eyes.

“I am so sorry Y/n, I should have done better to protect you.” He apologized and your eyes filled with tears. You wanted to run across in his arms, sooth his fears like you’d done so many times before.

“She’s not yours to protect kid, I thought we made it clear.” Steve grunted in displeasure and Peter scowled at him. Even tied up and at their mercy with wounds still dripping slowly, he managed to convey anger and hatred in his glance. Not an ounce of fear in his eyes and you knew if he were free, he’d be standing before you, being your shield.

“Mr. Stark was right when he said you are dangerous. When you believe something is right you never consider the consequences or the lives you’ll harm. You are no hero Captain, and I am sorry I ever considered you one.” Peter spat and you almost smiled.

Steve looked at Peter with a smirk on his face and then walked towards you and Bucky. He stopped right in front of you, looking Peter dead in his eyes before dipping down and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You struggled in Bucky’s arm, whining under Steve’s lips that didn’t let up until you were almost out of oxygen. He pulled back and you gasped, eyes stinging due to his assault.

“Doesn’t matter what you feel kid, ‘cause we got our girl in our arms while you’re tied up helpless.” Steve taunted.

“Please, I don’t know what you want. You can’t have me. I am a beta.” You sobbed.

Steve cupped your face and rubbed his nose to yours, cooing at you. Bucky was still holding you to himself and you could feel his hardness against your back.

“Baby, we know you are not an omega. At least not yet. But you are ours, and we have a solution. Don’t we Buck?” Steve said and you felt Bucky nod. Your eyes desperately locked on Peter’s, both of you feeling helpless.

Bucky handed you into Steve’s embrace and pulled out of his pocket a small metal case. Flipping it open he drew out a syringe filled to brim with some blue drug. Your gut clenched in fear as you looked at it, already knowing you didn’t’ want this thing anywhere near you.

“Don’t look so scared cupcake, it’s very safe. Hydra used to use it all the time, but we still had Bruce check this out and he says its safe.” Bucky said to you and you shifted in Steve’s arms.

“Dr Banner is involved with you?” You choked out. You always liked him, and this betrayal of trust cut even deeper.

“Oh, he doesn’t know this is for you. He’s a mad scientist who would research anything in the name of science. Don’t really care much about the consequences, do they?” Bucky mused. “You don’t need to worry much; it won’t hurt for long. One dose and your dynamic will start shifting. You’ll be an omega soon enough.”

Both Peter and you started at the news and your struggles renewed.

“Please don’t do this to me. Why are you doing this? You could have literally any omega out there who will be proud to have you as her alphas.” You cried and Steve shushed you like a mother does to her baby, his hand caressing your head gently.

“We don’t want them, we want you. You are strong and beautiful and a perfect fit for us. You’ll be a great mate and mother to our pups.” Steve said.

Your eyes blurred with tears, body feeling exhausted from your useless struggles. Peter was shuffling around in the chair to no avail. You felt corner and trapped, and you felt useless as an analyst. No part of your training could prepare you for a forced transformation at the hands of the strongest alphas on the planet who wanted to mate you.

“You don’t have to do this. There is a reason nature made me a beta. You can’t do this to me.” You sobbed in Steve’s chest and your tears seeped into his shirt.

“Cupcake, nature makes mistakes. Steve and I were supposed to die seventy years ago, yet look at us now, still alive. You are meant to be ours, our girl, our mate. And we’ll correct nature’s mistakes.”

You shouted as Bucky injected the syringe into your squirming body without warning, your screams of pain mixing with Peter’s protests. Liquid fire raced through your veins and you writhed, losing all control and senses. All you felt was heat and pain, starting from your toes to your head. You could hear your heart threatening to burst out of your chest, your throat raw from your screams. It was never ending, the inferno that was running across your body, changing your biology in its wake. Your every cell seemed to light up and turn itself inside out, your skin crawling. You scratched at yourself and your hands were held down along with your legs, eyes wide open and yet not seeing anything.

You didn’t know if it lasted minutes or days, the pain setting in your bones. Your surrounding was the same and yet the world had changed. You were shivering uncontrollably, sobbing incessantly, and crying out gibberish. Your eyes slowly focused as pain started dissipating bit by bit, your heart thumping irregularly and fast. You were on the floor of your living room, body held immobile with someone’s weight. You whined and they stirred, getting off you and suddenly you were sitting, a glass of water thrust in your face. You gulped it down, the cool liquid doing little to sooth the burn that still simmered deep inside you.

As you breathed, you suddenly gagged and heard someone moving around you. You were choking on air, the scents in the room smothering you. Your new formed omega senses picked up the spicy tangs of alphas and it made you dizzy. Someone was calling your name, yet it was all you could do to keep breathing and not faint again.

“Open the goddamn windows! She’s overwhelmed!” Someone shouted and soon fresh air breezed inside, easing your discomfort a bit. You held your chest, curling in on yourself and breathed deeply.

“Use your mouth to breath sweetie”

You did as commanded and eventually your breathing got easier. You sat with your head between your folded knees for a long time, trying to remember what happened. After what felt like forever, you gazed up and around you, coming face to face with three worried alphas.

“Y/n?” The young alpha tied to the chair called. You looked at him. You knew him, and the others too. Steadily your memories came back, and your eyes filled with tears, and you form shook as heart wrenching sobs wracked your body. Bucky crawled to you and very slowly reached out, his arm curling around your shoulder. You wanted to push him off, curse him away but your body instinctively leaned into him, seeking his warmth and protection.

“Shh cupcake, I got you. I got you baby” He whispered and kissed your hair.

Another pair of arms wrapped around you; a head tucked into your neck. Steve rubbed soothing circled in your sides, his breath washing over you. You were cocooned in their warmth and drenched in their scent, the nature of your biology bending to their wills and calming your racing heart. Soon enough your sobs turn to little sniffles and Bucky wiped your nose with the hem of his t-shirt.

“That’s it, omega, you’re doing so good. Just breath. We’re right here.” Steve said in your ear and you quivered at the timber of his voice.

You gradually raised your head up and the two alphas shifted a little to allow you space. Your eyes darted around your house as if seeing it for the first time, unintentionally falling on things you would need for your nest. Most of all, your eyes set on Peter who looked at you in both pain and wonder.

“Pete?” Your voice was broken, and you saw his eyes close, two streams of tear travelling down his face.

“I am so sorry” He said, helpless and feeling like a failure. He had failed his best friend, the one person who loved him unconditionally.

You heard two growls and two sets of arms on you. Bucky and Steve were baring their teeth at Peter, their bodies ready to attack. You made a pleading noise in your throat and they both looked at you, softening.

“Don’t hurt him” You begged.

Steve pulled you closer and buried his head in your neck, scenting you. His chest rumbled beneath your hand and he purred at your scent filled his lungs.

“Oh god, her scent Buck.” He mumbled, his nose tracing your jugular and Bucky joined in. They took their time with it, rubbing their cheek and neck all over you.

You were feeling overwhelmed, your omega body not used to the sudden flood of emotions and smell. Every nerve ending in your body was taut with tension and your every sense was enhanced by ten times. Their purrs washed over you, and the vibration of their body sent bolts across your spine that settled between your legs. You squeezed your thighs as you felt wetness coat your pussy, your temperature rising. Your body flushed, your scent getting heavier while you started panting. You didn’t need to be an omega to know what was happening, you’d seen it happen to plenty omegas before. You were like a young omega who had just presented and was undergoing her first heat.

Your scent wafted across the room and all the way through the house and you clenched your fist tight, nails digging into your palms. Pain such as you had never know bloomed in your abdomen, cramping your muscles and making you cry out.

“Y/n, what’s happening to her?” Peter shouted and you reached out a hand to him, body too exhausted and dazed to move much. Steve glowered and took your hand in his, the heat in your body burning his like a furnace.

“She’s in heat” Bucky rasped, his voice husky with arousal. Your heat was so powerful that it was sending them into an early rut. He moaned when his tongue swiped across your scent glands, tasting you. “Our omega”

“Ours for taking, ours for filling. You’ll take our mark and our pups” Steve vowed and you cried out when you felt both their hands roaming your body. You wanted to move away, tell them no but your body was at odds with your mind. You were vulnerable under their hands, your presentation craving their touch even as your mind told you to run. You convulsed under the feeling of their hands over your clothed breast and ass, moaning loud into the air. You had no control over your actions, and you let them paw at you unwillingly.

“Don’t touch her! Leave her alone!” Peter shouted and the three of you came out of your trances, having completely forgotten that he was here. You stared into his eyes, and he saw in them what you really felt. Your scent surrounded him and with your gaze locked on him, he squirmed.

“Look at that Steve, the kid wants our omega. You see cupcake, your best friend is getting hard seeing you being handled by us” Bucky almost sang, his hands tweaking your nipples through your shirt and you wheezed out a moan.

“See and learn kid, how to take your woman. And when you do that, know this is the only time you’ll see her this way. She’s ours and by the time this night is over, she’ll be proudly wearing our mark.” Steve said, deftly unbuttoning your shirt.

Peter and you kept looking at each other, Steve and Bucky stripping you down bare. You were too far gone to feel embarrassed at being naked in the plain view of three men. Bucky touched your tummy, rubbing his hands over your skin that made you close your eyes in pleasure. Steve’s mouth found your nipples, licking and sucking with vengeance while Bucky kissed you. You never stood a chance against them, your body dictating your every move. You kissed back and bucked against their bodies, sweat collecting where your bodies touched. Your voice rose an octave higher when Bucky’s metal hand reached between your thighs, his cold fingers collecting your slick and spreading it around you.

“Oh cupcake, look how wet you are. Look how pretty you are all spread out for us.” He groaned in your mouth.

Steve who was just done sucking a hickey below your collarbone shimmied down your body, nestling himself between your thighs. His lust blown eyes met yours and the intensity in them made your walls flutter. Maintaining the eye contact, he licked a broad strip with the flat of his tongue and you jerked under him, back arching with sensations going around your body like fireworks.

Bucky took of your hand and wrapped it around his cock, showing you how to pump it. You never noticed him getting naked, nor did you care. Steve was ruining your cunt with his talented tongue, swirling it in circles around your clit while two of his fingers delved in your heat. The coil in you stretched to breaking point, finally snapping when Bucky bit down on your nipple causing you to howl your release in the air. Steve rubbed you gently, bringing you down from your high, his face covered in your juices and you clenched hard.

To your surprise Steve leaned over you and pulled Bucky into a dirty French kiss, sharing your taste with him. Bucky fisted his hair, his tongue moving in and out of Steve’s mouth and the sight only made you hotter.

“So, this is what heaven tastes like” he muttered, and you whimpered. Steve was taking off his shirt and Bucky took his time pumping his fingers into you, stretching you open. “Gotta loosen you up for both of us cupcake. You need to be nice and stretchy to take out knot.”

You never realized you were fondling your own breasts, trying to find relief from the heat that was centered in your core. You needed them to fill you, stuff you until you couldn’t take it anymore. You saw Bucky look at his arousal coated hands that glistened.

“Steve, we have been so cruel. Look at the poor kid” He said, and you and Steve looked at Peter who was in agony. His eyes were large and locked on you, both sorry and aroused.

“Give him a taste Buck, because he will never get the chance again.” Steve said, now naked and stroking his large cock. Bucky got on his knees and moved closer to Peter, his wet fingers right before Peter’s lips. Your mouth was parted in surprise, a strangled sound escaping you as Peter leaned down to pull Bucky’s fingers in his mouth and sucked. His eyes closed at your taste and you found yourself burning more than ever.

“Please” you begged, to all of them.

“She liked it Steve, look at our girl. You like him getting a taste of you? That make you hot, cupcake?” Bucky teased you and you nodded.

“She needs our knot Bucky; she looks like she’ll combust. You want us sweetie? Tell me how much you want us” Steve ordered, straddling your lower half, his hard cock right over your entrance. He brushed it over your swollen clit, collecting your juices and covering himself in them.

“Need your cock alphas. I need you inside me. Please” You had no dignity left and you were crying as you begged. Steve aligned himself and pushed inside slowly, your body welcoming him.

“Oh god, look at you sweetie, so perfect for me. Look how you suck me inside your cunt and clench hard like you don’t want me to leave.”

He began thrusting, his cock hitting you in that special spot that made your breath hitch and eyes roll. You clawed at the rug, your nails digging inside as you gave moan after moan.

“Open up cupcake” Bucky ordered, his cock slapping your cheek. You opened up and he went straight in, sitting still for a moment to let you adjust. They thrusted in you in a rhythm, pushing and pulling in perfect sync. Steve played with your bud and your whines vibrated up Bucky’s cock so that he fucked your face harder.

“Just like that honey, just like that. Mine. Ours”

Your second orgasm came suddenly and took your breath, and your walls clamped so hard on Steve that he cursed loudly before absolutely letting go and thrusting like a demon in you.

“Gonna give you my knot, gonna make you round with my pups. God you feel so good baby”

He jerked inside you, his knot swelling at the base and stretching you until you felt it would tear you apart. Heat bloomed in your womb, and Steve’s release coated your walls as the same time that Bucky came down your throat.

“Oh cupcake, you are so so good.” Bucky said, his hand caressing your hair. He held you body in his arms, tangling his legs with Steve and yours. You were still locked together with Steve, his knot holding his cum inside. “Gonna fill you up with my seed after Stevie is done. Gonna knot you my little omega.”

 +++++

The night was long and strenuous, your body bent into shapes you didn’t know it could take. Bucky and Steve knotted you multiple times and your addled mind welcome them each time. Peter looked at your union with them in desolation, sitting in his ruined pants. He had come in his pants, not being able to help himself. He wouldn’t meet your eyes but when Bucky let him taste you again, he opened his mouth like an obedient pet.

You were sleeping soundly before the couch, a temporary nest of blankets and your alphas’ clothes around you. Two fresh marks decorated your neck, sealing your fate with Steve and Bucky. They knew the true battle would begin once you came out of your heat stupor, but they can handle you together. You belonged to them. They had claimed you against what nature said. You were theirs.

“That’s how you take a girl kid.” Bucky said as he cut Peter free finally. The poor boy was both mentally and physically exhausted and Steve had to steady him lest he fall.

“You won’t look at her again will you?” Steve asked and Peter shook his head in dejection. He had failed you and your friendship. He was to be blamed. As if Steve read his mind, he patted his back gently. “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. She was meant to be ours regardless of everything that happened. I am sorry about how the evening went, but if it were your mate you would understand.”

Peter’s shoulders slumped and he had no more tears to lose. He looked pleadingly at them.

“Don’t hurt her, please. She doesn’t deserve that.” He said.

Bucky smiled at Peter is assurance.

“We look after our own, kid. She’ll be fine”

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