#weather hackers

[themintman]

Something about how wonderful and comforting it feels to meet an older trans person

N e ways I'm working on something so if y'all know any nonbinary or trans darkners (canon, fanon, implied, whatever) lmk hehe

[wellthatsasketch]

System ⌨️ 🏳️‍⚧️Hacker, online artist and so much more. Another amazing PC from my current Cyberpunk Campaign. This new crew is so fun and wild to draw. Love our group of friendly neighborhood thieves

[ufosandme]

Weather Manipulation: A Call to the Sky

I didn’t beg the sky. I didn’t create rituals or spells. I didn’t chant in the dark. I went outside and spoke to the sky: “We need rain, we’re burning” Florida’s been close to being on fire. The air so dry that the warnings had begun. The Earth was screaming, and I, I whispered back. It was almost instinctual Call it weather manipulation or weather modification. Call it madness. I call it…

[foone]

So for a lot of Big Games, they do secondary piracy protection. The idea is that you know your main copy protection will be broken quickly, but you try to slow down the hackers so that you'll get some time when there isn't a cracked version out there, and you make people distrustful of possible partial cracks.

For example, Grand Theft Auto: Vice City for PC uses Securom (a reusable DRM system applied to a lot of games in the 2000s-2010s) as it's primary copy protection, but there's a second layer of protection that doesn't directly check if your copy is pirated, it checks that the first layer of protection is still active.

So if you've hacked out the Securom, the game will let you play it, but it intentionally introduces bugs. It glitches out the weather, it disables the spawning of nearly every NPC, it breaks some weapons, garages, radar, and save games.

The idea being that the hackers trying to make a cracked version of the game would have to spend a lot of time tracking down the dozens of places the code was booby-trapped before they could release a working crack, or risk releasing something broken and unplayable.

That'd delay the pirated version's availability by weeks or months, during which the legit version would be the only one available. That's when sales are most important, right after release, anyway!

So how long did all their work on these secondary anti-piracy measures delay the release of the fully-cracked, pirate version?

Well, the official PC release came out on May 12th, 2003, and the pirated version hit the internet on...

May 9th, 2003. Negative 4 days. The pirates managed to get a leaked copy (probably from a magazine reviewer) and hacked it completely before the game was even officially released.

(The secondary protection was never activated: the crack simply lied to the secondary protection and told it securom was still active)

This video goes into detail about the various anti-piracy methods the game uses:

[romerona]

Ethera Operation!!

You're the government’s best hacker, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared to be thrown into a fighter jet.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

This was never supposed to happen. Your role in this operation was simple—deliver the program, ensure it reached the right hands, and let the professionals handle the breaching.

And then, of course, reality decided to light that plan on fire.

The program—codenamed Ethera—was yours. You built it from scratch with encryption so advanced that even the most elite cyber operatives couldn’t crack it without your input. A next-generation adaptive, self-learning decryption software, an intrusion system designed to override and manipulate high-security military networks, Ethera was intended to be both a weapon and a shield, capable of infiltrating enemy systems while protecting your own from counterattacks in real-time. A ghost in the machine. A digital predator. A weapon in the form of pure code. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could disable fleets, and ground aircraft, and turn classified intelligence into an open book. Governments would kill for it. Nations could fall because of it.

Not that you ever meant to, of course. It started as a little experimental security measure program, something to protect high-level data from cyberattacks, not become the ultimate hacking tool. But innovation has a funny way of attracting the wrong kind of attention, and before you knew it, Ethera had become one, if not the most classified, high-risk program in modern times. Tier One asset or so the Secret Service called it.

It was too powerful, too dangerous—so secret that only a select few even knew of its existence, and even fewer could comprehend how it worked.

And therein lay the problem. You were the only person who could properly operate it.

Which was so unfair.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be your problem. You were just the creator, the brain behind the code, the one who spent way too many sleepless nights debugging this monstrosity. Your job was supposed to end at development. But no. Now, because of some bureaucratic nonsense and the fact that no one else could run it without accidentally bricking an entire system, you had been promoted—scratch that, forcibly conscripted—into field duty.

And your mission? To install it in an enemy satellite.

A literal, orbiting, high-security, military-grade satellite, may you add.

God. Why? Why was your country always at war with others? Why couldn’t world leaders just, you know, go to therapy like normal people? Why did everything have to escalate to international cyber warfare?

Which is how you ended up here.

At Top Gun. The last place in the world you wanted to be.

You weren’t built for this. You thrive in sipping coffee in a cosy little office and handling cyber threats from a safe, grounded location. You weren’t meant to be standing in the halls of an elite fighter pilot training program, surrounded by the best aviators in the world—people who thought breaking the sound barrier was a casual Wednesday.

It wasn’t the high-tech cyberwarfare department of the Pentagon, nor some dimly lit black ops facility where hackers in hoodies clacked away at keyboards. No. It was Top Gun. A place where pilots use G-forces like a personal amusement park ride.

You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t a spy, you got queasy in elevators, you got dizzy when you stood too fast, hell, you weren’t even good at keeping your phone screen from cracking.

... And now you were sweating.

You swallowed hard as Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates led you through the halls of the naval base, your heels clacking on the polished floors as you wiped your forehead. You're nervous, too damn nervous and this damned weather did not help.

"Relax, Miss," Warlock muttered in that calm, authoritative way of his. "They're just pilots."

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

And now, somehow, you were supposed to explain—loosely explain, because God help you, the full details were above even their clearance level—how Ethera, your elegant, lethal, unstoppable digital masterpiece, was about to be injected into an enemy satellite as part of a classified mission.

This was going to be a disaster.

You had barely made it through the doors of the briefing room when you felt it—every single eye in the room locking onto you.

It wasn’t just the number of them that got you, it was the intensity. These were Top Gun pilots, the best of the best, and they radiated the kind of confidence you could only dream of having. Meanwhile, you felt like a stray kitten wandering into a lion’s den.

Your hands tightened around the tablet clutched to your chest. It was your lifeline, holding every critical detail of Ethera, the program that had dragged you into this utterly ridiculous situation. If you could’ve melted into the walls, you absolutely would have. But there was no escaping this.

You just had to keep it together long enough to survive this briefing.

So, you inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, and forced your heels forward, trying to project confidence—chin up, back straight, eyes locked onto Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, who you’d been introduced to earlier that day.

And then, of course, you dropped the damn tablet.

Not a graceful drop. Not the kind of gentle slip where you could scoop it back up and act like nothing happened. No, this was a full-on, physics-defying fumble. The tablet flipped out of your arms, ricocheted off your knee, and skidded across the floor to the feet of one of the pilots.

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

You didn’t even have the nerve to look up right away, too busy contemplating whether it was physically possible to disintegrate on command. But when you finally did glance up—because, you know, social convention demanded it—you were met with a sight that somehow made this entire disaster worse.

Because the person crouching down to pick up your poor, abused tablet was freaking hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of golden curls that practically begged to be tousled by the wind, and, oh, yeah—a moustache that somehow worked way too well on him.

He turned the tablet over in his hands, inspecting it with an amused little smirk before handing it over to you. "You, uh… need this?"

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

You grabbed it back, praying he couldn't see how your hands were shaking. “Nope. Just thought I’d test gravity real quick.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and his smirk deepened like he was enjoying this way too much. You, on the other hand, wanted to launch yourself into the sun.

With what little dignity you had left, you forced a quick, tight-lipped smile at him before turning on your heel and continuing forward, clutching your tablet like it was a life raft in the middle of the worst social shipwreck imaginable.

At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson stood with the kind of posture that said he had zero time for nonsense, waiting for the room to settle. You barely had time to take a deep breath before his voice cut through the air.

“Alright, listen up.” His tone was crisp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “This is Dr Y/N L/N. Everything she is about to tell you is highly classified. What you hear in this briefing does not leave this room. Understood?”

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

You barely resisted the urge to physically cringe as every pilot in the room turned to stare at you—some with confusion, others with barely concealed amusement, and a few with the sharp assessing glances of people who had no clue what they were supposed to do with you.

You cleared your throat, squared your shoulders, and did your best to channel even an ounce of the confidence you usually had when you were coding at 3 AM in a secure, pilot-free lab—where the only judgment you faced was from coffee cups and the occasional system error.

As you reached the podium, you forced what you hoped was a composed smile. “Uh… hi, nice to meet you all.”

Solid. Real professional.

You glanced up just long enough to take in the mix of expressions in the room—some mildly interested, some unreadable, and one particular moustached pilot who still had the faintest trace of amusement on his face.

Nope. Not looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, centering yourself. Stay focused. Stay professional. You weren’t just here because of Ethera—you were Ethera. The only one who truly understood it. The only one who could execute this mission.

With another tap on your tablet, the slide shifted to a blacked-out, redacted briefing—only the necessary information was visible. A sleek 3D-rendered model of the enemy satellite appeared on the screen, rotating slowly. Most of its details were blurred or omitted entirely.

“This is Blackstar, a highly classified enemy satellite that has been operating in a low-Earth orbit over restricted airspace.” Your voice remained even, and steady, but the weight of what you were revealing sent a shiver down your spine. “Its existence has remained off the radar—literally and figuratively—until recently, when intelligence confirmed that it has been intercepting our encrypted communications, rerouting information, altering intelligence, and in some cases—fabricating entire communications.”

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

“So they’re feeding us bad intel?” one of them with big glasses and blonde hair asked, voice sceptical but sharp.

“That’s the theory,” you confirmed. “And given how quickly our ops have been compromised recently, it’s working.”

You tapped again, shifting to the next slide. The silent infiltration diagram appeared—an intricate web of glowing red lines showing Etherea’s integration process, slowly wrapping around the satellite’s systems like a virus embedding itself into a host.

“This is where Ethera comes in,” you said, shifting to a slide that displayed a cascading string of code, flickering across the screen. “Unlike traditional cyberweapons, Ethera doesn’t just break into a system. It integrates—restructuring security protocols as if it was always meant to be there. It’s undetectable, untraceable, and once inside, it grants us complete control of the Blackstar and won’t even register it as a breach.”

“So we’re not just hacking it," The only female pilot of the team said, arms crossed as she studied the data. “We’re hijacking it.”

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

You switched to the next slide—a detailed radar map displaying the satellite’s location over international waters.

“This is the target area,” you continued after a deep breath. “It’s flying low-altitude reconnaissance patterns, which means it’s using ground relays for some of its communication. That gives us a small window to infiltrate and shut it down.”

The next slide appeared—a pair of unidentified fighter aircraft, patrolling the vicinity.

“And this is the problem,” you said grimly. “This satellite isn’t unguarded.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the pilots took in the fifth-generation stealth fighters displayed on the screen.

“We don’t know who they belong to,” you admitted. “What we do know is that they’re operating with highly classified tech—possibly experimental—and have been seen running defence patterns around the satellite’s flight path.”

Cyclone stepped forward then, arms crossed, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Which means your job is twofold. You will escort Dr L/N’s aircraft to the infiltration zone, ensuring Ethera is successfully deployed. If we are engaged, your priority remains protecting the package and ensuring a safe return.”

Oh, fantastic, you could not only feel your heartbeat in your toes, you were now officially the package.

You cleared your throat, tapping the screen again. Ethera’s interface expanded, displaying a cascade of sleek code.

“Once I’m in range,” you continued, “Ethera will lock onto the satellite’s frequency and begin infiltration. From that point, it’ll take approximately fifty-eight seconds to bypass security and assume control."

Silence settled over the room like a thick cloud, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. You could feel them analyzing, calculating, probably questioning who in their right mind thought putting you—a hacker, a tech specialist, someone whose idea of adrenaline was passing cars on the highway—into a fighter jet was a good idea.

Finally, one of the pilots—tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, and very clearly one of the cocky ones—tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screamed too much confidence.

“So, let me get this straight.” His voice was smooth, and confident, with just the right amount of teasing. “You, Doctor—our very classified, very important tech specialist—have to be in the air, in a plane, during a mission that has a high probability of turning into a dogfight… just so you can press a button?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

“Well…” You gulped, very much aware of how absolutely insane this sounded when put like that. “It’s… more than just that, but, yeah, essentially.”

A slow grin spread across his face, far too entertained by your predicament.

“Oh,” he drawled, “this is gonna be fun.”

Before you could fully process how much you already hated this, Cyclone—who had been watching the exchange with his signature unamused glare—stepped forward, cutting through the tension with his sharp, no-nonsense voice.

“This is a classified operation,” he stated, sharp and authoritative. “Not a joyride.”

The blonde’s smirk faded slightly as he straightened, and the rest of the pilots quickly fell in line.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson let out a slow breath and straightened. His sharp gaze swept over the room before he nodded once.

“All right. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “We’ve got work to do. The mission will take place in a few weeks' time, once we’ve run full assessments, completed necessary preparations, and designated a lead for this operation.”

There was a slight shift in the room. Some of the pilots exchanged glances, the weight of the upcoming mission finally settling in. Others, mainly the cocky ones, looked as though they were already imagining themselves in the cockpit.

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

The pilots stood, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out of the room, the blonde one still wearing a smug grin as he passed you making you frown and turn away, your gaze then briefly met the eyes of the moustached pilot.

You hadn’t meant to look, but the moment your eyes connected, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to know.

So you did the only logical thing and immediately looked away and turned to gather your things. You needed to get out of here, to find some space to breathe before your brain short-circuited from stress—

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

You tightened your grip on your tablet and turned back to Cyclone, who was watching you with that unreadable, vaguely disapproving expression that all high-ranking officers seemed to have perfected. “Uh… yes, sir?”

Once the last pilot was out the door, Cyclone exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

“You realize,” he said, “that you’re going to have to actually fly, correct?”

You swallowed. “I—well, technically, I’ll just be a passenger.”

His stare didn’t waver.

“Doctor,” he said, tone flat, “I’ve read your file. I know you requested to be driven here instead of taking a military transport plane. You also took a ferry across the bay instead of a helicopter. And I know that you chose to work remotely for three years to avoid getting on a plane.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That… could mean anything.”

“It means you do not like flying, am I correct?”

Your fingers tightened around the tablet as you tried to find a way—any way—out of this. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need to fly the plane. I just need to be in it long enough to deploy Ethera—”

Cyclone cut you off with a sharp look. “And what happens if something goes wrong, Doctor? If the aircraft takes damage? If you have to eject mid-flight? If you lose comms and have to rely on emergency protocols?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the very thought of ejecting from a jet.

Cyclone sighed, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “We cannot afford to have you panicking mid-mission. If this is going to work, you need to be prepared. That’s why, starting next week you will train with the pilots on aerial procedures and undergoing mandatory training in our flight simulation program.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—wait, what? That’s not necessary—”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Cyclone cut in, his tone sharp. “If you can’t handle a simulated flight, you become a liability—not just to yourself, but to the pilots escorting you. And in case I need to remind you, Doctor, this mission is classified at the highest level. If you panic mid-air, it won’t just be your life at risk. It’ll be theirs. And it’ll be national security at stake.”

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

Cyclone watched you for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly softer but still firm. “You’re the only one who can do this, Doctor. That means you need to be ready.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together before nodding stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

Cyclone gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Dismissed.”

You turned and walked out, shoulders tense, fully aware that in three days' time, you were going to be strapped into a high-speed, fighter jet. And knowing your luck?

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???

[no1blacksapphirefan]

For the self aware au- Have you ever written something about the sort of 'discovery' stage of the cookies being self aware? Like, if the cookies did accidentally 'break character' but instead of reader freaking out and deleting the game they become fascinated by it and start trying to get them to do it again? Curious and trying to figure out if it was a bug or glitch or some hacker, but not really bothered by it?

If you haven't written something like this and chose to use this as a prompt I'd love if you'd involve Capsaicin or Burning Spice if you feel like it! love the spicey boys,,,

I like your words weather boy. I hope I understood your request

Capsaicin (May be OOC) Oopsie!! He didn't mean too, he just got really excited seeing you. Perhaps you were wearing a new outfit, how could he not compliment you about the colour? Prune Juice had quickly jabbed him in the chest because of his slip up. And seeing you take notice...oh no, this isn't good right?...

But you didn't seem to be scared, your eyes sparkle with curiosity, he couldn't tell what you were doing at first, but when he realised you wanted to see him talk to you directly again? Oh he's more than happy too, he's quick to compliment you again, perhaps it's your eyes this time, your smile. He gets so giddy when he sees you not mind at all. And cookies said you'd be freaked out.

Burning Spice The words just left him, he didn't think about when he said it. He just didn't expect you to cry out in joy when he did the finishing blow on the other team in Arena...I mean, sure he was the only one with a bit of HP left, but god did that praise boost his ego, he couldn't help but thank you directly...with your name.

Look, look. He can't always just sit around and listen to you speak without talking to you, especially when you seem to talk to him casually as if you already knew...you won't delete the game right? Witches is he happy to see you become a giggling mess as you try and get him to speak again...hey stop poking him, he'll talk to you but-- you're still poking him??

Black Sapphire Like Shadow Milk, he doesn't think too much about his words and if they break the "4th wall" because to you, it was probably just in character, besides. One of his lines already did that anyways. What he didn't expect was, for you to actually believe it...like it wasn't just some code.

Is this a bad thing? He feels like this is a bad thing, maybe he shouldn't have talked his mind as often as he did in the kingdom and-- OH! You like it?? Heh, well if you enjoy it so much, he'll continue as he has done before. He'll just...ignore the stares Pure Vanilla is giving him. Hey! You like it, even if you seem to think it's real...he'll just argue that you found out through one of his already made voicelines.

Shadow Milk He's so happy when you notice, he always wanted you too y'know. He hated not being able to talk to you and besides, once he comes out of your device, he doesn't want to freak you out!! It's better if you knew, that's what he told other cookies but he always got shunned as the others worried it would freak you out too much.

He can't wait to rub it into other cookies faces. See!! You didn't care, you love it! Now he can talk your ear off, c'mon. Join him for dinner. Bring your food and he'll bring his. You might not be able to share a table but hey, you're eating together. He's quick to "confirm" your suspicion.

Pure Vanilla He didn't mean to let it slip! You were coming back with food to continue playing, and he couldn't help but call out in alarm to you, wanting to see if you were okay. Your pain (if you had any) disappeared and you just looked in amazement at him. Uh oh...

Unlike the others who were quick to just accept the fact you knew. Didn't even try to hide it or cover it up with a lie like, it was merely a bug. He's quick to try and continue the charade. It's not that he doesn't want to speak with you more personally, but he wonders if you'll still play when you do find out they all know. Even if it seems like you love it so. He might give in to speak again to you if he sees you desperately wanting to hear him again, he wants to see you happy

[starlightshadowsworld]

“Kunikida’s a bootlicker. He’s nothing but a boring goody too shoes.”

Kunikida stole a car. Kunikida broke into a meteorological bureau because they got the weather report wrong. Kunikida has been arrested 3 times.

Kunikida gave Junichiro, Atsushi and Kyouka weapons. Kunikida electrocuted Akutagawa and gained his respect. Kunikida’s best friend, Katai is a hacker.

Kunikida hates authority.

Kunikida threatened to break Atsushi’s arm when they met.

The fear people have that Kunikida could’ve become the Azure Messenger if he went too far. Not to mention the Azure Apostle, Nobuko Sasaki was the real life Kunikida’s first wife.

Kunikida set off a bomb and used Tecchou as a shield. Kunikida told Kenji to throw the Black Lizard out the window. Every time someone says Kunikida would be a good solider he immediately proves them wrong.

Goody too shoes my arse.

[theesirenteller]

We Live Like Savages.🔞

Modern day! Stack & Smoke x OC!Kamari.

ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ sᴛᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ sᴍᴏᴋᴇ ʜɪʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ. ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴀ sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇs.

“Everything checks out. Both of them have no domestic violence charges or sexual assault. But as always, watch yourself because the amount of charges against both of them for battery, murder, and robbery is astounding.” Jerrall informed Kamari through the webcam screen.

Jerrall Wright was a hacker from Nigeria but made his fortune in America helping various politicians and Ceos. Being around those types of men made it easy for Kamari to cross paths with Jerrall and build her own connection with him. Her clientele had changed drastically since working with Jerrall. He also provided her with a sense of safety and security that had made her more confident walking into sessions with new clients. As a result her profits tripled.

"I will, thank you Jerrall. I'll talk to you soon." Kamari replied before she ended the call. She had been no stranger to clients with violent pasts. From boxers to men in the mafia…they all had something involving violence. And a lot of things got overlooked when it came to collecting as much money as possible.

Three days. Three days it had taken for 'Stack' to secure the appointment and Kamari to prepare for it.Tonight was thee night and there was no backing out. It'd been at least four years since Kamari had taken on two clients at once and the woman couldn't deny the jitters within her stomach. And despite one of her golden rules of not drinking before the job, she broke it in order to calm her nerves. Three dirty Martinis later, Kamari brushed her hands along her rosé oiled body. She wore a velvet bustier in black with a matching high waisted thong. The set was simple but alluring. It gave her pear-shaped figure an appetizing flare due to the way the fabric hugged her curves. Her hair was slicked back into a bun with a crisp middle part down the middle, which she perfected further as she eyed herself in the mirror. In times of getting filthy between the sheets, Kamari kept her appearance for arrival simple and clean.

Her route to travel to Downtown atlanta was a blur due to how mundane it had been. A town car was sent for her so the travel hadn't been anything of interest. She ended up in front of The William hotel nearly an hour later. The brisk winter weather kissed her chubby cheeks and sent chills piercing down her neck; which had caused her stuff her hands into the pockets of her polar-bear fur coat. Kamari strutted into the establishment with her head held high and a nonchalant expression across her face. SHe bypassed the sea of people that crowded the lobby and went straight to the elevators. P6. The sixth penthouse suite. When she had arrived, she was met with a singular hallway and two large black-double doors. The scent of bitterly sweet sativa swept past her nostrils as she grew closer to the door. The deep voice of Stack rapping along with drill beats vibrated off of the door, no doubt coming from a set of speakers. Kamari raised her hand and began firmly knocking on the door.

After a few continuous knocks, the door opened. There stood Stack dressed in a pair of Dior black joggers with the waistband of his crimson-red boxers sticking out. A black durag tied across his head and a fat blunt between his lips. Behind Kamari's shades, she looked him up and down. His bulky lightly-tatted frame was beyond alluring to her. She couldn't wait to lick him up and down. "Hi." she greeted as she slowly removed her shades, her eyes trailing along his body up to his lips as she had done so.

"Wassup." Stack replied as he held eye-contact. His eyes never looked away from hers. And Kamari couldn't help but stare back as she walked inside. Now that they were both standing instead of sitting like the night prior at the club Kamari could see that Stack was a foot and some change taller than her. He had to have been 6 '4 at best."Lemme take ya coat." As Stack got behind her once the door closed Kamari caught a whiff of his rich Christian Louboutin cologne. It was warm, the scent of amber was inviting. The musky undertones of powdery spice and sweet vanilla made her clit throb. The tip of his nose brushed along the side of her neck sending cold chills across her back as he slipped off her coat.

"Can i get you a drink?" The subdued tone of his voice kissing into her ear brought on a jolt of nervousness, excitement.

"Wine, if you have it. Thank you." Kamari turned on her heel with a light-sultry smile across her lips.

" I got you." His bottom lip curled inwards as his dark brown eyes skimmed across her thick frame. 'Thick as hell…got damn' Stack thought himself along with sinister thoughts of breaking her down in various positions.

"Where can I change into something more comfortable?" She asked, ready to undress and reveal herself.

"Bathroom inside the bedroom, Smoke chillin in the living room." Stack replied.

"See you there." Kamari smiled before turning around and stuttering in that direction. She could feel his eyes on her with every step she took. Passing what could be described as either a sitting room or living room; which was both luxurious and generic at the same time. The beige colored sofas and glass tables were a carbon copy of every other penthouse she had ever been to. Even down to the breath-taking view of the city. But, it was still nice.

The bedroom was surprisingly another story. A vibrant shade of red with a Japanese comfort Inn vibe to it due to the double-queen sized bed and golden accented sheets. The bed faced the view of the city. Directly placed in front of the tall windows. Kamari hadn't realized how long she stood there lingering because a warm hand had touched her arm. She looked to her left and her eyes veered up to Smoke. He stood before with glowy bronzed, smooth cocoa butter adorned skin. Dressed in a pair of crimson black silk boxers and a matching black Saint Laurent robe. He smelt of rich kush and cedar-Stacked musk cologne. A hint of mango was there as well from what she could smell. A blunt adorned his heart-shaped lips.

"Hi Smoke." She greeted softly as she looked into his warm brown eyes. Her cheeks started to burn from how hard she blushed when the back of his hand caressed the side of her face. His touch as smooth as butter, His thumb brushed along her bottom lip as a slight smirk curled in the corner of his lips.

"Excuse me for a moment." A mixture of his intense stare and soft touch made her heart race quickly. And just before she made her way into the bathroom, his hand wrapped around her wrist to stop her. His lips pressed against the side of her hand. The two exchanged lingering desire filled looks before she fully went into the restroom.

Kamari discharged her outside clothes and folded them neatly into her LV weekender bag. As she stood in her lingerie set and high YSL heels, she applied a second coat of lipstick. Followed by rolling on perfume oil on the back of her kneecaps, underneath her breasts, the back of her shoulder blades, and the creases of her inner thighs.

'The Zone' by the weeknd ft drake beat through the speakers as Kamari exited the bathroom. Stack and Smoke were seated on the bed passing a freshly rolled blunt between the two of them. A curvy woman shaped bong was placed on the floor between their large feet. The music was loud but Kamari could see Smoke's lips moving as if he were conversing with Stack.

"Come to find out dat bitch Netta tried to rob a nigga.Netta and dat nigga Rory laying six feet deep in piss right now." Stack explained as he sat closely beside Smoke.

"Mo probably behind that shit." Smoke replied in a low tone.

Monica wasn't the type of woman a man should make his main or his woman in general. She was far too thirsty for fame, money, and street cred off the backs of niggas she fucked. He wasn't one to shit-talk someone else's game but it was the acting genuine to get into Stack's heart for her own benefit was what he couldn't fuck with. They all played games but never had feelings involved. That was stated upfront. A slut like Monica trying to go deeper than surface level was what put her in the red zone with Smoke. His attention stayed on her with watch dog eyes. and her friend Symone was no different. Except, she was like a sheep following the wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Oh shit, look at chu' ' Stack whistled as Kamari strutted towards them, his eyes skimming along her figure that looked heavenly underneath the city lights and shining of the moon. Smoke blew a kiss her way followed with a thick cloud of smoke behind his lips. His left hand extended out as he offered her the glass of wine.

"I'd say the same about you but…"Her eyes slithered like snakes along his body before settling onto his eyes, "You're overdressed." she then took a sip from her glass before taking a seat upon both of their laps.

"Come undress me then." Stack challenged. The joint was passed over to him and he proceeded to place it between his lips.

The softness of her cheeks felt like a pillow against their toned, firm thighs. Her attention smoothly transitioned over to Smoke, "You too." she teased with her shoulder nudging against his. A mischievous smirk swept across his lips as his hand grasped at her jaw, nudging her closer as he drew in closer. The moment their lips met, Kamari felt semi-rough finger pads rubbed along her ass followed by firm palming along the thickness of her cheeks. The kiss shared between her and Smoke gave her this fuzzy feeling inside. A hot rumbling sensation within her stomach and chest. His lips were smooth, warm, and soft. Slightly parted against her own with the edge of his tongue tasting the plumpness of her bottom lip, tracing every inch of it. She couldn't help but run her own tongue along his lips. He tasted like aged bourbon; smokey with a strong, intense overtone of vanilla and the dried pineapple due to the joint that once sat between his lips. The way his tongue licked along hers made Kamari release an inaudible moan.

She felt a tight grip to the base of her bun causing her head to tilt back as her hair was tugged. Plumper, fuller lips pressed against her own. Stack's meaty tongue slipped into her mouth as he gripped at the back of her neck. Smoke's eyes flickered down to her ample breasts that her bustier hugged tightly. Soft and inviting. He peeled off the fitted fabric and engulfed her pebbled nipples into his mouth, placing open mouthed kisses against both of her breasts. Sloppily, he sucked against her rose scented skin. Her right hand and fingers ran along his shoulder blades as she and Stack engaged in a messily wet lip lock.

Their tongues plunged as deep as they could get into each other's mouths. Stack's kiss was the complete opposite of Smoke. He was sloppy and rough. Even with Kamari's tongue in his mouth, he overlapped hers. His lips captured her top lip, sucking and biting against it. It made her body grow hot as Smoke's warm tongue against her nipples and breast made her feel as though she was being attacked by both fire and ice at once. It made her clit throb rapidly like a racing heart beat. Kamari had been strung off high new found emotions that when Stack pulled away due to the bluetooth speaker stopping the music because of an incoming call, she whimpered.

"Yo, open shordy up for me." Stack placed a kiss to the side of Kamari's jaw before he stood up, "See you soon gorgeous." and with that made his way out the room.

Nothing stopped his money. And in a way, Stack was like a quarterback, he liked the ball brought to him so that he could come in and make the goal. Smoke was by no means a 'fluffer' but the two carried this mutual respect and had their own unspoken flow. Whichever one of them picked out their target, got to go in for the kill first. Or, in this case get the party started. This time it was Smoke. His arms engulfed her into a firm hold as he flipped Kamari onto her back on the bed.

She arched up on elbows, capturing his lip between hers with a soft bite. "Still overdressed," she mumbled as she released his lip with a tug. Her fingers gripped the edges of his robe and tugged it down. Her soft palms brushed along ebony skin, caressing at his muscles. Kamari trailed open mouthed along the side of his neck while smoke looped his fingers around the edges of her high-waisted thong. The moment he tugged it down her thick thighs with little hassle; was the moment that he wrapped his arms around her thighs and tugged her on top of him. Smoke manhandled the plump woman like a rag doll, tugging and holsting her over his face. Right where he wanted her. The thickness of her thighs warmed the sides of his face like a tight hug.

Smoke nuzzled his face against her smooth, hairless, wet pussy. His tongue slicked down her slit. His gold diamond-ring covered fingers gripped at her ass as he nudged her down closer. Kamari let out low moans as he ravenously sucked on her clit. The tip of his tongue outlined the inner corners of her slit before plunging deep into the center of her wetness. The moment that Smoke sneakily stuck two of his fingers into her pussy from between her cheeks, caused Kamari's hips to jolt forward as she squealed 'oooh' The rarity of Kamari being on the receiving end of oral sex had made her plump punani high-strung off of every miniscule feeling. Every flicker of his tongue made her warm center grow warmer like the August sun. Each time one of his long fingers caressed the edges of her inner walls, her moans grew louder. Her crystal clear nectar began to pour down and fall onto his chin with a splash as Smoke circled his tongue into her pussy. His fingers curled up deeply, scissoring into her wet cunt with a loud 'squish'.

Smoke's lengthy cock pulsated like a second heartbeat and grew larger in size due to the delicate taste of her pussy. The woman above him had an exquisite taste to her that could only be described as; fresh with an undertone of spearmint that could be assumed was from her feminine wash, with her clit having a smooth melt-in-your-mouth texture that poured a sweet-ish nectar. The Downtown Atlanta native ate her out ravenously like a starved man being fed for the first time in a long time. Darting his tongue upwards with his head tilted back, he licked her quickly with circling motioning as his fingers worked in and out lightly and slowly. Curling up his knuckles just enough to ghostly brush against her g spot. He grew almost addicted to the way the feeling of her thighs shaking felt like a head massage to him.

Smoke held onto Kamari so tightly that she couldn't move or rush backward from the pleasure. She was meant to service him. Perhaps perform a bit of 69 yet she couldn't. She could only grasp onto her trembling breasts for support as Smoke caused a fiery pleasure to ignite within her. "Smokee," she moaned out like a lullaby as her vision blurred and the sight of stars took over when she had cum. Reaching her first and second peak in the span of three minutes, back to back had Kamari trembling from head to toe.

When he had loosened his firm hold to her thighs and waist, Kamari slouched backwards and laid between his legs. She could feel his erection poking at her back as she breathed out deeply. Despite the lightheaded feeling she felt, curiosity and lust restored her energy. Kamari straddled Smoke as he rested his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her closer. The moment that their lips met she could taste herself on his mouth. Lips to lips and tongue to tongue, she proceeded to suck her cum off his tongue.The groan released from the depths of his throat caused her clit to pulsate. His large slightly-calloused hands ran along the sides of her body down to her thighs. His fingertips sank into the thickness of her skin as he sat up. Tracing and admiring every curve, every mark of stretched skin and dimple. Smoke found her body to be inviting and held a sense of serenity. His tongue sensually massaged the back of her throat as they kissed sensually. Smoke had Kamari in such a trance with their lip lock that she hadn't noticed that he had removed his last article of clothing. Smoke removed one of his hands from her body and proceeded to reach over to the nightstand to grab a condom.

"Allow me." Kamari whispered an inch away from his lips as she laid her hand on top of his. The challenging smirk on Smoke's lips felt like an invitation. He laid back against the silk sheets with his arms behind his head. His muscles flexed and his brown skin looked heavenly as it illuminated underneath the moonlight.

While Kamari peeled open the condom wrapper with her teeth, she got a chance to admire his naked body. Mainly his dick, which was a sight for sore eyes. It was a rich umber-brown complexion, ten inches in length that was circumcised, cleanly shaven with a six inch girth, and upward hook-like thickly veined tip.

He'd clearly been blessed below and Kamari would've been lying if she didn't admit that she was intimidated by it. It was a clear difference from her fifty and up clientele who passed no longer than four inches in length.

Nonetheless, Kamari was no quitter and slithered the condom on his dick with ease. His length felt heavy within her hands. Her grip was firm as she stroked his thick meat with her palms and fingers, her lips pressed against his curved tip. Where she proceeded to leave smooth & sweet open mouthed kisses, tasting the saltiness of his precum. Her tongue swirled underneath the base before she sucked him into her mouth with a deep inhale. A melodic hiss escaped Smoke's mouth. Her lips pressed up against the sides of his shaft closely as she began to sloppily slurped up and down his thick length. Hollowing her cheeks each time the curve head of his dick would hit the back of her throat.

Smoke being engulfed in the warm heat of her mouth made his hips buckle causing a loud gag to escape Kamari's lips. Her face grew hot as his cock stretched her mouth open with each plunging thrust into her mouth. His hands held a firm grip onto the back of her head, guiding her as low rasped groans escaped his lips. Smoke's locs fell over his eyes as the muscles in his thighs tensed. His length swelled and hardened within her the depths of her throat as she coated his dick in her saliva.

As Stack made his way into the bedroom, his eyes instantly fixed on Kamari's ass that glistened under the moon due to being coated with her wetness. The way she sat on her knees with her plump ass in the air looked nothing less than inviting to him. 'Stacko' he whistled as he approached the bed. His large palm smacked against her ass. Entranced by the way the thickness of her ass jiggled like jelly. Her muffled, choked out whines built the intensity of arousal in the air.

"Damn she real pretty." Stack murmured admiring her pussy as he spread her cheeks apart for a better view. His thumb glided down her slit as he dipped his middle finger inside. The way her warm and wet center sucked him in made his dick harder than it was originally. Arching in his finger, he coated it in her nectar before placing it in his mouth, "Sweet like peaches." he boosted with a deep rasp as he dabbed up Smoke.

Kamari whimpers vibrated against Smoke's cock as she slurped on it. The room suddenly felt hot as arousal was thick in the air. The two men shared menacing smirks as Stack said "I think she ready."

Smoke released his grip from her hair as he grew closer to his release. His hand grasped at the back of her neck before he tugged her up. His thumb swept across her bottom lip, wiping the drool off of it as Kamari fully straddled on top of him. Whilst Stack had focused on slipping the condom onto his own length along with a generous amount of lube.Her legs laid on either side of his thighs as she hovered over his body on all fours. Her breasts brushed against his chest as his hands swept along the sides of her curves. Smoke's right hand swept between them, aligning his fatty tip at her entrance; brushing against her clit teasingly.

As Smoke repeatedly teased her clit by smacking his tip against it, Stack plunged two lube covered fingers into her puckered hole, edging the tight spot open in a scissoring motion.

'a-aaaghh' Kamari let out a yelped whine of pleasure as the two men edged her on. Both of her holes being toyed with at once had caused her toes to begin to curl and her inner thighs to shake.

Stack pressed his hand firmly on her lower back causing Kamari to deeply arch her back and raise her ass higher up against him. Her thighs had spread apart further and as if on cue, both men had thrusted into her at once. Stack's hands gripping firmly at her ass and Smoke's hands on her hips.

"Ooh!...fucck!" Kamari moaned out loudly. A mixture of pain and pleasure fueled within her body.

Smoke stroked his dick deeply into her pussy, his hips rolling up against hers as he plunged in at a sensual pace. The thickness of his length massaged every inch of her walls. His grip on her sides tightening as her soaked center gripped onto him tightly. Her lips pursed and pressed against her right nipple that he tugged between his lips.

Stack's was length thicker than Smokes. He rutted into her at a relentless pace with ball's deep plunging strokes that worked her tight hole open wider. His low redden eyes were fixated on watching how her ass swallowed him whole. Her plump cheeks effortlessly shook, bouncing off his solid muscular abdomen like waves crashing against the rocky shore.

The mixture of sensual and ravenous had Kamari's body trembling. Her body is feverishly hot with overstimulation. She couldn't bounce back nor forward. They'd dominated her body and numbed her mind. Folded and split her for their own pleasure and in return she was being rewarded with her own pleasure. Their growls and grunts blended with her high volume whines and moans like adlibs. Her curvaceous body rocked forward against Smoke's body and back against Stack. Her body had been bent into a downward dog position. One of Smoke's hands grabbing at her right breast and his other hand had a firm hold on her throat to steady her. Three of his fingers plunging into her mouth. 'Fuck' Kamari moaned out as her eyes rolled back. Her hips naturally swayed backwards due to the increased pace of Smoke's rhythmic thrusts.

His fingers pinched at her pebbled nipple, caressing the center of it with the pad of his thumb. His teeth dug into her earlobe nibbling at it as he dug into the depths of her walls. Goosebumps formed across his skin as blood rushed to his lower abdomen making his dick pulsate rapidly inside her drenched center like a second heartbeat. The way her warm walls continued to flutter around his dick and squeeze at his length tightly made Smoke hiss out 'fuck, yo' in her ear. Both of his hands switched over to her breasts, squeezing them tightly.

Kamari's ears began to ring as her nails dug into the sides of Smoke's waist, her face burying into the side of his pillow as she cried and screamed out. 'i'm cummin'-aah!' A mixture of her tears and saliva coating the pillow as her hot cum was squirted across their dicks and painted their balls white. The feeling of pleasure and pain became overwhelming, orgasm ripped out of her one after the other as the loud slaps and claps of their cocks plunging in and out of her wet pussy and ass grew louder.

"Come here sweetness." Stack murmured raspily as he tugged her back by her hair. A firm grip of her now messy bun, he used to roughly pull her back as his climax was near. His right hand began aggressively smacking at her right asscheek as he rammed up into her. Her blushed throbbing hole sucking him in made his thrusts grow more relentlessly.

"What's my name?" he growled into her hair as he tugged at her hair. His hips snapping as his balls slapped against the back of her inner thighs.

"Stack!" Kamari cried out as her g-spot was hit from behind. She felt as though that her back would break due to how aggressive his strokes had gotten. Should feel him poking at the depths of her spin.

Smoke had raised his pelvis causing his cum covered abdomen to flex; Jack hammering his dick into her pussy with his tip firmly hitting her sensitive cluster of nerves. Spilling his seed into the condom shortly after as he continued to chase his climax by thrusting balls deep into her continuously.

'fuck!' Kamari cried at the top of her lungs. Smoke rotated her into Stack's arms as he spilled out of her; who had wrapped his burley arms around her thighs and pressed her to his chest. Smoke had shifted off of the bed and segwayed to the bathroom. She barely had time to recover before she was pinned over the right side of the bed with her ass up. Stack had now been kneeling on the bed with the full length of his shaft plunging into her pussy. With his pelvis bent forward and a tight grip to her soft love-handles, he penetrated her with broad, belly-pit deep strokes that knocked against her g-spot.

"w-wait i–it's too mmmuch!" Kamari stuttered out through her cries as he hit her tender spot over & over again. Her body shook as her hands grasped tightly to the edge of the bed frame. The loose hairs that escaped her bun now clung to the side of her face and forehead.

"Sssh, you doin good mama," Stack teased as he smacked her clit with his palm. A sinister smirk swept over his lips as he watched her back arch and her thighs spread when she came undone messily on his dick. His last three thrusts were vicious, plunging in balls deep as he jackhammered into her. His fingertips left marks in her caramel skin as Stack abruptly pulled out and tugged the condom off with a swift motion, painting her ass white with his cum.

Throughout that night until the early hours of the morning the two boxes of condoms that the men had brought were emptied. Kamari had blacked out a few times in the midst of one on ones with Smoke then Stack then both and water breaks in between. At times she begged for a timeout and other times she'd beg for more. The repeated acts of overstimulation had Kamari knocked out cold until the day turned to night. The sun had begun to set when she had awoken.

Her jaw was sore, her body was sorer, and her head hurt. Rubbing the tiredness from her eyes with the back of her hand, She slowly began to sit up in the bed. The sheets clung to her sweaty body as she sat up straight. "Got damn it." she huffed to herself as a sharp pain shot up her butt to her lower back. Peeling the discomfort away to the back of her mind, Kamari looked around. Both the bed and room were empty. To her left on the glass table lay stacked freshly stacked racks of money alongside a bouquet box of white roses. Her feet pressed against the carpet once she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She then got up and slowly made her way to the table.

'80k as promised, take care beautiful' - S & S had been written on a card that was laid on top of the money. A smile swept across Kamari's lips as she read over the note. She proceeded to grab her overnight bag at the end of the room and pull her clothes out. She focused on stuffing the bag with the money before carrying it with her to the bathroom where she got herself together with a hot shower.

[avecra]

Dosed

summary: When you are laced with a deadly pathogen, the team finds themselves working endlessly to find a cure. Only it might not be enough.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6.7k

warnings: canon level violence, illness symptoms (fever, cough, vomiting), angst on top of angst with a happy ending, bucky goes through many emotions

a/n: hi hello it has been a hot minute since I have been active im so sorry :( i had a lot of personal issues to deal with but now im hoping to be a little bit more active and post more stories :)

You could feel the heavy rumble of the jet as it landed on the muddy grounds. An overcast covered the sky and emitted a soft grey through the thick glass of the display of the jet, the light pitter of rain tapped against the window. 

Bucky’s gentle touch stole your gaze from the window to the super soldier, his fingers wrapped around the Kevlar vest and he began to tighten the straps around your shoulders, pulling them into place. 

“Do I really have to wear this? Steve said that the building is supposed to be empty,” you said, trailing a finger along the front of your vest, over the stitched ‘Barnes’ that sat over the thick fabric. 

“Yes, honey,” Bucky chuckled, tightening the straps over your back. “Just cause Steve says it’s empty doesn’t mean it is. I can’t risk anything happening to you, therefore you get to wear my vest.” He winked at you and tightened the last strap across your abdomen. “Gotta keep my girl safe, now don’t I?”

You smiled sheepishly and nodded, continued to watch him strap a few guns and knives to his body. Exhaling a tense sigh, you ran your sweaty palms down the side of your tactical uniform, Bucky noticed. “It’s gonna be okay, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” you whispered, grabbing his hand. “I’m not exactly equipped for these types of missions, I’m just a little nervous.” 

Bucky’s eyes softened when he heard the small crack in your voice, his hands encased around yours and he tenderly pressed a kiss to the back of your palm. “I’m gonna be right by your side the entire time.”

You bobbed your head, taking in a deep breath as Bucky gently slid a gun into the holster on your thigh. “But just in case.”

The two of you had been assigned to track down a lone mercenary in the middle of western Canada. The stormy weather had made it difficult for the jet sensors to get a read on the building that sat in a nearly empty forest.

A mercenary hacker under the name Roman Donovan had been on Tony Stark’s radar for quite some time, after noticing the many sudden security pop ups, indicating that Donovan had smothered his way into Tony’s tech. Both Steve and Tony had been working relentlessly to find a position on him, until a sudden location popped up. 

You had your doubts, whether you were the best candidate for this mission, but Steve had reassured you with your technical and computer knowledge that you were the perfect fit.  A squeeze to your hand reminded you that Bucky would be with you every step of the way.

With a nod from you, Bucky placed the small comm device into your ear, tapping it a few times so he could hear the breaths that left your lips. He slipped one into his ear as well, tapping it a few times until he could catch the chatter of the two agents in the cockpit of the jet. 

“Prescott and Logan, stand by. We’ll radio you in case we need backup,” Bucky announced, pressing the button that opened up the ramp of the jet. He turned to you with a soft, comforting smile. “It’s just a simple extraction of files,” he reminded with a gentle hand to your back. “Ready?”

A final nod of your head, you looked at him. Ready.”

---

The building had been vacant this far, Bucky had led the both of you to the control room where you rapidly typed on the main computer. Bucky stood by the door, sending cautious glances over his shoulder every few seconds to survey the dark hallway. 

“I’m almost done,” you called out to him, fingers dancing across the keyboard, desperately pushing into the numbers and letters faster. “It had more firewalls than I expected.”

Bucky glanced over in your direction, a frown taking over his features. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily. Just means this guy wants to keep people like me out of his stuff,” you mumbled. Bucky chuckled under his breath.

A few more clicks to the keyboard, you powered off the system and the flash drive ejected  out of the main computer. Stepping back, you watched the monitors as the files slowly disappeared from folders and main screen savers, until all the screens went dark. 

“I think I got it,” you muttered, eyes wide as they focused on the screens. The flash drive began to flicker a blue color, indicating that the files had transferred successfully without a trace of Stark technology.

The loud slamming of a door alerted Bucky, as he raised his rifle up, pointing towards the sudden sound. You pocketed the flash drive and raised your head at the sudden sound, eyes filled with confusion as they flickered over to Bucky’s alarmed blue ones.

“Get behind me,” You quickly made your way over to him and his hand immediately darted out to grab your wrist. Though you could feel the tension riding off his body in waves, his hold on your arm was gentle. “Stay low.”

You nodded and grasped the back of Bucky’s tactical vest, fisting the thick fabric. With a cautious foot forwards, Bucky stepped out into the hallway, taking slow, steady steps into the dimly lit corridor. 

Your hands made their way from the fabric of his shirt to his vibranium hand, and you gripped as tightly as you could, in a way to ground you. He couldn’t feel the tight pressure, but he could feel the weight of your hand in his. 

The two of you stealthily made your way through sets of hallways and stairwells, inching closer and closer to the doorway, until the loud slamming of boots against the tile floors halted you in your stance. Fear corrupted every fiber of your body, you couldn’t take your eyes off the panicked look in Bucky’s blue ones. 

You felt Bucky push you away behind him, before a sudden force knocked him to the ground, grunts passed through his lips. 

“Y/n, run!”

Not looking back, you trusted Bucky enough to know that he would make it out unscathed, with only a few scrapes and bruises. You, however, were not a field trained agent, with little  combat knowledge. You bolted the other direction, on the way to warn the two agents standing by in the jet.

“I need backup! Logan, Prescott, to the northeast side of the building, now!”

It wasn’t until you felt the pull of your vest and the weight of someone did you register your head slam against the ground, rather harshly. A strangled cry left your lips when you felt a needle puncture your skin, just at the conjunction between your shoulder and neck. 

His hand pressed down on your neck harshly, cutting off your air supply, but you were frozen in fear - he head injected something into your skin. You did not find the strength to fight back.

Fear paralyzed every fiber of your body.

Grunts and strangled screams were heard, you didn’t know if it came from you, but suddenly the weight was lifted off you, though you registered nothing of it. A few greedy breaths of fresh air. The pulsing of your heartbeat rang out in your ear, chiming and pudding against your skull. You laid frozen.

“Y/n is down, I have Donovan apprehended. I need backup, please!” Bucky spoke into the comms a moment later as he threw the hacker on his stomach and pinned his wrists behind his back. He was tempted to sap his wrist, but he held back. 

“Roman Donovan, you are a hard son of a bitch to find,” Bucky growled in his ear, reaching into his vest to pull out a pair of wrist restraints, tightening them to Donovan’s wrist. The man yelled in pain and discomfort.

Bucky glanced over to you, eyes softening when he took in your fragile form on the concrete. You just laid there, almost lifeless, but once Bucky saw the rise and fall of your chest, only a little relief came to him. It quickly rushed away when blue eyes focused on the empty syringe near your foot. 

“There’s a lot more pain coming your way. What did you inject her with?” Bucky yelled viciously, grabbing Donovan roughly by the hair. But the man simply let out a dark chuckle, eyes narrowing on you. The way weak coughs passed through your lips, the way you burrowed deeper into yourself.

“I know your weak spots, James Barnes.” was all he said. 

The hurried footsteps of Prescott and Logan reached his ears and Bucky abruptly stood up  and watched the two agents haul the mercenary to his feet and slam him against the wall, patting him, finding a gun strapped to his back and a small grenade. 

“Secure him to the panel near the bay doors. Bastard can fly out for all I care.” 

Bucky wasted no time in making his way over to you. A gentle hand soothed comforting circles up and down your arm, gently coaxing you and Bucky gently lifted you up in his arms and leant you against the wall, concerned as your head lolled back. 

“Baby, are you okay?” His panicked gaze flickered from the bleeding gash on your temple, to the light bruising around your neck, the small dot of blood at the conjunction between your neck and shoulder. He sighed, bringing a hand to rest on your cheek. “Y/n, answer me baby, what hurts?”

Your eyes were clenched shut and you brought a shaky hand to rest over Bucky’s, and you lifted your gaze to meet his worried blue ones. “I’m okay… I think.”

“You think?” Bucky asked, running a hand over your hair. 

“I-I don’t know, I feel fuzzy,” you mumbled, leaning your head back against the wall. 

Taking slow, deep breaths, you felt Bucky rub slow, soothing circles up and down your thigh. There was a buzzing sensation circling throughout your temples, down to your cheeks, along our jaw until it spread through the rest of your body. 

“Deep breaths in and out, baby,” Bucky whispered soothingly, leaning down to kiss your knee.

But then, in a moment or two, you felt it suddenly disperse. As if the wave of numbness rid itself out of your body. You allowed Bucky to help you to your feet, brushing his hands over the front of the vest before making sure you had no further injuries. 

“We’ll check you over at the compound,” Bucky said as he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you down the hall, following the two agents in suit. “Let’s get out of here.”

---

Bucky watched helplessly as he and Steve watched as Dr. Cho and her team scanned over your body. He couldn’t imagine how confused and scared you were, hands gripping the sheets. Your first field mission had been a complete disaster. Bruce walked in, the used syringe in an examination tube. 

“What do you think he injected her with?” Bucky asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

“It’s weird,” Bruce began, handing the folder over to Bucky. 

“I pushed it through a scanner, to see if I could find any sort of answer to what this is. All tests come back negative for a virus or disease. Has she had any of her symptoms progress on the way home?”

Bucky shook his head, “No, she’s just been… frozen, paralyzed almost. He has injected her with something; I saw the blood on her neck and it seemed like he had tried to… kill her or something.”

“You think he would?”

“Why else would he press his fucking hand over her throat?”

“That, I am not sure. So unless she starts to show signs of some sort of sickness, I unfortunately have no answers. I’ll check in with Tony, see if he has any answers. I’ll keep you guys updated.”

“Thanks, Bruce.” Bucky sighed, watching as the doctor left. He opened the file, reading over the diagnosis levels. “I still don’t get it.”

Steve hummed, taking the file out of his hand. 

“The only thing he said to me was ‘I know your weak spots’ and then called me out by name. But I have never come into contact with this guy, not even as the Winter Soldier. The dude is early twenties and lived with his grandma in east Maryland up until two years ago, living in some studio in Princeton up in Jersey. How the hell did he end up in Canada?”

“That doesn’t track at all. Unless he has dug up on all of us. He probably just wanted to get you by surprise.” Steve said. “Real name is Benjamin Croot. 24 years old.”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Dr. Cho’s voice broke through on the intercom. “She is asking for you.”

Bucky moved faster than he could process. He rushed through the doors and you turned your head at the sound of his boots. 

“Is she okay? She’s not hurt or anything?” Worried questions spewed out, his hands came to grip yours as tight without hurting you. He brushed his hand over your warm, sweaty forehead. “She’s warm.”

Dr. Cho nodded. “My team ran all the tests imaginable for this certain… situation. And everything came back negative, which worries me. If what Y/n described is true, then he must have injected her with something that is lethal or close to being lethal.

“She said to have felt numb, fuzzy almost. Those are usually the signs of a virus or even… a pathogen starts to form. But what I don’t get is that I could not find a single trace of.. well anything really.”

“Dr. Banner doesn’t have an answer either, though he’s checking in with Stark as we speak.” Bucky said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “What should we do? Keep her here?”

The woman sighed, pieces of her hair falling from the neat bun. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Part of me wants to keep her in the medical wing, just in case, but her stats are all normal, though her temperature is abnormally high.”

“How high?”

She flipped open the chart. You hadn’t really been present in the time either of them were talking. You were just so tired. Physically and mentally. 

“The last time I took it, her temperature was sitting at about 100.5, which isn’t that bad, but it’s not great either. So, I would advise to just rest for the night, and when she wakes up we will run a couple more tests, see if anything has changed.”

Bucky nodded, squeezing your hand as the doctor excused herself. 

“Whatcha thinkin’, sweetheart?” Bucky sat on the edge of the cot, brushing hair away from your eyes. 

“Tired.” He could tell your energy was scarce.

“Let’s go to bed then, hm.”

His movements started before you even had the chance to reply. As gently as he could, he slid his arms around your waist and shoulders and helped you up to your feet. The two of you made your way from the medical bay to the residential wing, to yours and Bucky’s shared room.

“Don’t you have the interrogation to do?” you mumbled, watching his features contort when he pressed his thumb against the scanner and led you into the room. In your fuzzy mind, you barely registered Bucky’s touch as he gently peeled your uniform off and slid your pajamas on.

“I’ll do it tomorrow. Besides it’s late, sweetheart and I think I speak for the both of us when I say it’s been a long day,” He gently eased you onto the bed, gently covering your form with a blanket. 

A shiver racked through you and Bucky watched with a concerned look as you tightened the blanket around your shoulders. He flicked off the lights and crawled into bed next to and wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“Sleep, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” You faintly nodded and relaxed into his hold, feeling his hands run smoothly up and down your arms. The faint glow of the television set and the low volume did nothing to tear you from your due slumber, though you faintly felt the coolness of Bucky’s appendage running over your hair before you slipped into a dreamless sleep.

---

Sweat coated every part of your body as you woke up with a sharp gasp of air. 

Pounding temples, you peeled your eyes open and sat up; the faint glow of the TV caught your eye. The movie Bucky played had finished and had been playing in an endless loop. 

The clock on your nightstand read 2:07am, you reached for the cup of water and took slow sips, barely and faintly registering the sounds of Bucky’s light snores. 

You felt the nausea before anything else. It ran from your stomach up to your chest and you clamped a hand over your mouth, threw off the covers and made a beeline for the bathroom. 

That was until a wave of dizziness hit you and your knees buckled. Vision tunneling, you would have fallen to the floor if it weren’t for the strong pair of arms that wrapped around your waist before you could touch the carpet. I’ve got you, a tired voice murmured, but your hazy mind didn’t hear the quiet mutter.

The warmth of Bucky’s chest touched your heated back as he sped to the bathroom, flicked on the light and watched helplessly as you crashed to your knees and emptied what was in your stomach into the toilet. 

Bucky kneeled behind you and grasped your hair in one hand and rubbed soothing circles along your back. He felt you slacken in his arms, head resting back against his shoulder and when he pressed his palm flat against your forehead, he almost hissed at the radiating heat.

“You’re burnin’ up, sweetheart,” His wide blue eyes darted to your half-lidded ones, cerulean darting over your sweaty, clammy skin. 

“I don’t feel good.” you croaked. 

It hit him in one, big wave as he took over your tattered form. The confusion, the fatigue, to your spiked fever, Something wasn’t right, considering the fact that you rarely felt under the weather.

Those are usually the signs of a virus or even… a pathogen starts to form. Cho’s voice rang in his voice

Weakly, you flushed the toilet and leaned back into Bucky. Shivers racked through your body and Bucky peeled your shirt off your shoulder to see a dark blooming bruise where Donovan had injected the needle. 

“FRIDAY, wake Steve and Dr. Cho. Tell them to meet me in the medical wing,” Bucky called for the AI and slipped his hand under your back and knees and lifted you up against his chest. 

You jolted slightly, dizziness clouding your mind as Bucky stood up. You were limp in his arms, like jell-o.

The cool air of the hallway felt like a slap in the face, you pressed your cheek into the warmth of Bucky. A low whine passed through your lips and Bucky ran his thumb just below the back of your knee. 

“Buck,” Steve called, eyes widening as they fell on your shivering form. “What happened?”

But Bucky didn’t stop his movements, he spared a glance to Steve and kept heading towards the direction of the medical bay. Steve followed Bucky’s fast pace, quickly matching his speed.

“Her temperature is too high,” Bucky said, glancing over at his friend. “When we checked into the medbay, Cho noticed that her temperature was a little higher than normal, but when she got up a couple minutes ago, she was burning hot.”

A slick sheet of sweat coated your forehead, Steve noticed, and how small tremors racked through your body every so often. His eyes fell to the darkening bruise on your shoulder, Bucky caught his eye. 

“I think she was laced with something.”

Your fingers grazed the fabric of his shirt and Bucky looked down, continuing his trek to the medical wing with Steve hot on his tail. You could feel the rapid thumping of Bucky’s heartbeat as you weakly bunched his shirt in your fist.

“Laced? Laced with what?” Steve questioned as he rounded the corner, eyes locking onto Cho’s at the end of the hall.

Bucky looked down at you, clammy skin, eyes barely open, though you kept a strong grip on his shirt. “I don’t know.”

Everything was hazy the moment Bucky set you down on the hospital bed. Though sweat coated nearly every inch of your body, shivers racked through your body relentlessly. It was sweltering and freezing simultaneously. 

Nurses rushed around you, obstructing Bucky’s view from you, one of them placed a cannula just under your nose, an IV into your arm. The thought of more needles sinking into your skin made you sick. 

The last time someone used a needle on you, he was malicious as he jammed the needle into neck harshly. The memory brought nothing but fear to you. 

You were hot. Uncomfortable. The pain in your head was nearly unbearable.

“Bucky,” you called out, only it came out more of a whimper. “W-where’s Bucky?”

Metal clamped gently on your hand, the other hand coming to smoothly brush your sweaty hair back. “I’m here baby, I’m right here.” 

“It… it hurts,” Bucky watched as another nurse attempted to put another needle through your skin, he noticed the subtle shaking of your head, the whimpers.

“Is that really necessary?” he asked with a sharp glare, it melted away when he looked over at you. “What is it, baby? What hurts?”

“My head.”

Worried eyes wandered over to Cho’s as she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Sergeant Barnes, I understand you want to offer her comfort, but I can assure she is in good hands with my team.” 

Bucky nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. His finger trailed over your forehead gently, and when he saw Steve and Sam in his peripherals, he sighed to himself. “I’ll check up on you later, sweet girl. I have something to take care of.”

You nodded drowsily, the dizziness taking control. 

Bucky reluctantly moved away from your bedside to his two closest friends, solemn looks on their faces. Sam kept his eyes on you, watching as the nurses took your temperature.

“How is she?” he asked. Bucky kept his eye on you the entire time, watching your tired eyes start to close. 

“It’s not looking good,” Bucky sighed. “Her temperature is extremely high, nausea, light-headed and dizziness. Whatever this bastard did to her, he has to deal with me now.”

“He’s downstairs, whenever you’re ready.” Steve said, his eyes laying on your frail body. “It is 2 in the morning and one of my teammates is lying on a hospital bed with a fever of over 100 degrees and a migraine that’s probably killing her. Let’s get this over with.”

---

Roman Donovan sat in a cold, bright room, hands cuffed to the tables with two SHIELD agents armed standing at the entrance. A smug smirk sat on his face as he fidgeted with his fingers. His head perked up at the sound of the door opening. 

“Well, if it isn’t the mighty Winter Soldier, what a traitor you are to your own country, huh? I mean, working for the people who you literally fought against-” Sam walked behind him and gripped his shoulders tightly, fingers digging into his muscles. 

“I am only gonna say this once, so you better fucking listen to me. What did you do to her?”  

Donovan chuckled, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, old man.”

Bucky shook his head, vibranium fist clenched. 

“You know, Roman, this guy isn’t too fond of repeating himself. Especially to arrogant assholes like you.”

“What did you do to her, Donovan?” Bucky was strangely calm.. “You know the woman you attacked earlier, the one whose throat you almost crushed after you injected her with drugs? She’s got three degrees in chemistry, computer engineering and computer science, so I get why you, a man of your personality, would go after someone who is not strong enough to put up a fight against you.” 

Steve looked on through the window, phone pinging. He pulled it out, the text from Natasha sent dread through himself. 

Temperature over 105, tests coming back positive for some type of influenza. Cho is really worried. Not looking too good for her.

“Shit.”

He went on and walked into the room, leaning over to where Sam stood. 

“So aggressive, James. And for what reason?”

Sam chuckled, crossing his arms. “If you think this is aggressive, you’re in for a ride.”

“I’m gonna ask one more time, and if I don’t get an answer, that means you’re straight up out of luck.” Bucky leaned forward, black and gold vibranium reached for the chain of his restraints and pulled him down, causing Donovan to hit his head. “What did you inject her with?”

The man tilted his head, blood dripping down his cheek. “What makes you think I injected her with anything?” he cockily sneered. “I thought all the Avengers were required to be knowledgeable in the field, cause let me tell you, Sergeant, that little girlfriend of yours is such an easy target.” 

Steve nudged Sam, leaning his phone towards his eyeline, showing the text message. Sam felt a pang of worry settle deep in his stomach, sharing a worried glance with him. 

There wasn’t much time left for you. 

Steve stepped forward, pulling Bucky aside to show him the text message. 

Blue eyes raked over the words he had been dreading the most. "Not looking too good for her.”

“Well Donovan, I want my answer.”

The man smirked. “Yeah? Or what?”

Bucky’s left hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of Donovan’s hair and slammed his head against the metal desk one time only, though it was enough to break the man’s nose. Screams of pain resounded in the small but soundproof room. 

“No one’s gonna hear you, Donovan! Those guys with the big ass guns? They’re not gonna help you either. Not when one of their own is about to die in this building. And so help me, Benjamin,” Bucky sneered into his ear, the man’s eyes wide with fear, “if she dies under your hand, there is nothing on the green earth that is going to stop me from tearing you apart. I’m gonna ask one more time, what did you inject her with?”

“A deadly pathogen! It’s a pathogen that kills its hosts within 24 hours of it being administered.”

Bucky’s eyes glanced at the clock. 2:58 AM. It was a late night mission, the jet had landed in Canada at 7:45 PM. Meaning you had to have been injected with it at 8:00 or so. Meaning six hours had already passed, he had eighteen hours left. You had eighteen hours left.

“Did you know adults that experience fevers that go over 105 degrees can run into complications causing serious implications of brain damage,” Sam blurted out. “means you’re in the dog house if we lose her. And ain’t a single one of us is gonna stop that mean.”

“Is there an antidote for it?” 

Donovan nodded. Bucky slammed a pen and a notepad down on the table, causing the man to jump in fear. “I suggest you better start writing it down. Now you get to deal with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Better start writing.”

Eighteen hours would go by quickly. 

---

“Sergeant, it’s not looking good for her,” Dr. Cho said, voice breaking slightly. “This virus that she’s fighting, it’s too strong.”

Bucky looked through the window, heart shattering as his blue eyes fell on the breathing mask they covered your mouth with, the tubes that kept you hydrated. You looked so… lifeless. Natasha sat by your side, her hand gripping your wrist, though you were so out of it, eyes barely open.

“He injected her with some sort of influenza. He knows the antidote, but he has less than eighteen hours.”

She noticed the worried look in his eyes. 

“She was constantly asking for you. Even in a state of being delirious, she was still calling for you. Natasha was able to calm her down.”

The soldier gulped. “Is… is she going to die?” 

For a moment, Dr. Cho couldn’t answer. She didn’t know the probability of the antidote being made on time. 

“James, I cannot answer that. But what I can say is that I will do everything in my power to keep her alive. She’s a fighter.” With that, she excused herself. Bucky stood still for a moment before pushing the door open.

The sounds of your heart monitor and the sounds of oxygen traveling through the tubes filled the room. Natasha’s emerald eyes met Bucky’s, a small smile presented on her face. 

“Any updates yet?” she asked, but it fell on deaf ears as Bucky kneeled at your bedside, grasping your limp hand tightly in his. 

The amount of pain that swirled in his mind was almost too unbearable. Your eyes met his, though you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Tears welled in your eyes as they rushed down your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, my love. I am right here.” His voice was above a whisper and pressed a kiss to your palm. “Tony and Bruce are gonna find a cure for you, honey. I promise. It’ll all be okay.” He felt you weakly try to grasp his hand back, but the action alone made you more tired. 

“I love you so much, baby. Words can’t comprehend my love for you. I want you to know that,” Tears welled in his own eyes, his hands reached up to cradle your cheek. You leaned into him. “I love you.”

Your skin was so warm under his touch. His eyes read over the stats on the open chart, seeing your temperature rise every hour. 

“She was injected with some sort of influenza. Tony and Bruce are working right now.” 

“Did you find anything else?”

Bucky kissed your hand, gently guiding your head back on the pillows. “Son of a bitch has the antidote. Had to break his nose just to get him to spill it out.” 

Natasha placed her hand on his shoulder. “I will stay with her and I’ll alert you guys if anything changes. Just try to hurry.”

Bucky nodded and leaned down, hugging your frail, weakened body and pressed a kiss against your chapped lips. “I love you, Y/n. I’m gonna fix this.”

He did not spare Natasha a glance as he stormed out of the medical wing, boots stomping with every step he took. Long strides took him to the end of the hall, where the elevator was.

“FRIDAY, where is Stark and Banner?”

“Both are in Mr. Stark’s lab. Shall I notify them that you are coming?”

“Tell them I have a stop to make first.” Bucky slammed the button to the interrogation level. “ I’m coming with the antidote.”

---

Donovan jumped in his seat when the doors opened, revealing the shadow of Bucky’s figure. A knife sat in his hand. The prisoner visibly shivered. 

“You know what I’m here for, Donovan.” 

“Come on, man! It hasn’t even been-”

The knife that was once held in Bucky’s hand was now lodged into metal table, an inch away from Donovan’s finger. 

“You’re fucking crazy!” 

“What happened to the tough guy act, huh? You wanted to act all big and bad up in Canada. Why the sudden change of heart?” Bucky taunted him, walking closer to the pad of paper that had been scribbled on, step by step, three pages, front and back. “Remember, you’re targeting my weak spot.”

He seemed ashamed, guilty almost. But it wasn’t because your life was in jeopardy. It was because he was caught, with no one left to save him. 

“You know, you’re already facing five counts of criminal charges of unauthorized access into government systems, you wanna add a murder charge to that? Assault with intent to cause bodily harm? That sounds like fifty years to me, that is with just the unauthorized access charges.” Bucky sat down across from him. “And if this,” he held up the paper, “isn’t true or it doesn’t cure her, you’re facing a very serious murder charge of a federal agent.”

“You’re nothing but a coward, Benjamin Croot. Tough guy act falls the minute you’re faced against someone who overpowers you. You’re gonna rot in that prison for the rest of your life.”  

---

It was morning.

The sun had risen fully. 

10:47 AM

Tony and Bruce had been hard at work, trying to figure out the antidote. It was nearing the afternoon, and they had been at it since nearly four in the morning. But neither were giving up. Not when your life was on a timer.

Bucky had dropped off the paper before going back up to the medical bay, spending his time with you. He hadn’t slept since he first woke up, his groggy eyes immediately landing on you staggering to the bathroom.

He laid in the small bed with you, balancing himself on the edge, giving you all the space. He had laid a damp rag over your forehead, in hope to cool you down a little. Tremors racked through your body suddenly, Bucky jolted. 

You laid still for a moment, eyes clenched shut, brows furrowed. An unpleasant gurgling sound came from you, body jerking slightly. Bucky’s eyes widened and he pressed the call button repeatedly before running to your side. You weren’t awake, you were warmer than before, heartbeat rapid as the monitor started to go crazy, alarms blasting. Dr. Cho and a couple nurses suddenly bursted into the room, eyes wide

“What’s wrong? What’s happening to her?” Bucky cried out, helplessly watching as they pushed you on the side. 

“She’s choking. Her lungs are filling up with fluids, and if we don't drain it, she will lose her.” Bucky’s eyes filled with horror. “Sergeant Barnes, I know you’re concerned for her health and safety, but I need my full attention if I’m gonna save her. Please.”

Bucky wordlessly nodded, his eyes fixated on your body, your face. 

Eyes closed.

Pale skin.

Lifeless, almost. 

The monitor flatlined. Bucky was pushed out of the room. Sheets pulled around your bed as voices screamed and yelled, though it was all distorted. 

“Bucky?” He turned to Sam, tears spilled over his cheeks. 

“She’s…” A cry got caught in his throat. “she’s flatlining.”

Chocolate eyes widened. 

“I need to find Tony and Bruce.”

Sam loved you like a sister. The two of you had always been close, ever since you joined the team. And when Sam laid eyes on you, defibrillator pads pressed on the exposed skin of your chest, head laid back, a knife twisted into his heart. 

Neither men didn’t move a muscle until the flatline changed to a faint beeping. 

---

“Please tell me you’re somewhat close to putting an antidote together.” Bucky and Sam pushed through the doors. Tony looked up, “How is she?”

“She’s running out of time, she flatlined for a minute,” Bucky rambled out. “Please, Tony. What do you have so far?”

“It’s almost done, I think. We followed every single one of the steps, used past remedies that have helped even Thor himself from a virus. But if this guys even altered one of these steps-”

“He’ll have to face me then.” Bucky finished. “Is it ready?” Tony nodded, though he had a look of hesitancy. “What is it?”

Tony looked over at Bruce, having just placed the antidote in the freezer. “It needs to maintain a temperature of -50 degrees. Meaning…”

“You need to bring her down here, or else it won’t work. I have all the medical supplies she’ll need down here. I just need you to transport her.” 

“I’ll do it.” Bucky said, not that anyone else would have even offered. “Have every single thing ready by the time I step foot in here.”

“I’ll inform Cho.”

Both scientists nodded, scrambling to ready the emergency medical cot. Sam followed Bucky as they raced through the stairwell, racing up the stairs, though adrenaline gave Bucky all the energy in the world it seemed. 

Once he reached the room, Sam sprinted to ready the elevators, to get you to the lab as quickly as possible. Dr. Cho had removed all the tubes and wires off of you, only an oxygen mask with a tank attached. 

“Come on, baby,” Bucky strapped the oxygen tank to his back and slid his arms underneath your knees and shoulders, and ever so gently he lifted you up, grey hospital gown drenched in sweat. Your head lolled back, arms and legs completely limp. “I got you, baby, I’ve got you.”

With you laid against his chest, he moved swiftly, his pace faster than normal and it wasn’t long until he was in the elevator with you, nearly unconscious in his arms. Bucky looked down at you and rested his forehead against your sweaty hair, though it did not bother him in the slightest. 

Your brows furrowed for a moment, followed by a whimper. “We’re getting there, love. We’re almost there.”

The doors opened and Bucky made a beeline for the lab doors, immediately going to the corner of the room where they had the cot set up. As gently as he could, he cradled the back of your head as he placed you down on the mat, softly placing the tank on the ground. 

“Okay, now Tony.” Bruce unbuttoned the gown at the shoulder, revealing where you were attacked. Bucky held the side of your face, caressing your cheek. 

He had placed a part of his armor on the hand piece as he took it out of the freezer, glancing  at the space from the freezer to you, and in two big strides he held the needle just above the darkening bruise and quickly administered it into your skin. He pressed the button and a fluid was shot into your shoulder.

Your body shuddered for a moment, there was no sudden movement from you.

It was the longest minute of Bucky’s life, his eyes filling up with tears. The sudden rise and fall of your chest kept getting  stronger with every breath you sucked in. The bruise surrounding your shoulder slowly vanished, your natural skin color coming back. 

When your eyes peeled open, Bucky nearly sobbed in relief, crashing on his knees as he gripped your arms. 

“Y/n, baby, can you hear me?” he pleaded desperately. 

“B-Bucky,” your voice was raspy and raw.

“Oh my god, you’re okay. You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he muttered over and over like a mantra, cradling the back of your head as he peppered your forehead and cheeks with kisses. You were still a little warm, not as life threatening as it was beforehand.

“W-where am I?” you tiredly asked, eyes roaming around the lab. “What happened?”

 Bucky gently took the oxygen mask off, replacing it with a nasal tube. “You were poisoned, honey.” Flashes of you flatlining not even two hours ago flooded his mind, but he shook them away. You were well and alive, breathing with a steady pulse. “You were really sick for a while, 

but Tony and Bruce here made a cure for you.”

You nodded, still a bit drowsy from the near death experience. “What about… him?” 

Though your voice was barely above a whisper, Bucky heard you clearly. “He’s already taken care of. If I had it my way, the bastard would spend the rest of his life on Raft for all I care.”

Tony chuckled, coming over to pat your hair and a quick kiss to your head. “Leave that to me, kiddo. This kid doesn’t know what’s coming to him. Get some rest, hon.”

Bruce, Tony and Sam all bidded you a goodbye, leaving the two of you alone. 

Bucky cradled your face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss against your lips. “I love you, sweet girl.”

“I love you, too, Bucky.” You sounded downright exhausted. But you could finally rest. “This is why I stay behind the computers.”

Bucky chuckled and laid against the pillows, pulling you to lay on his chest. “Valid.” Your laugh was a tired one, Bucky could tell. “C’mon baby, let’s nap together.” 

You had no obligations on that, closing your eyes as you held onto Bucky’s arm, lulling to sleep. 

Finally, Bucky could rest knowing that you were at ease and finally able to rest without being in pain. His eyes drifted shut and you both finally succumbed to a well deserved rest.

--

[earlgreylatte]

STOP IT CUZ SPIDEYTORCH 3SOME?? YES PLEASE, I NEED IT 😭

YOU WERE SO QUICK ANON!! No I’m actually so happy other people see the vision!!

Like the Statue of Liberty is canonically their meetup spot, so I already knew a threesome has definitely happened there at the dead of night!! It’s high enough that no one is going to really see you going at it! It’s what the French would have wanted…

(Imagine seeing Johnny’s message to meet at the usual spot and just getting jumped by them; Peter’s mask is just rolled up so he can pepper your face with kisses as Johnny’s hands explore your body, warm enough for you to ignore the cold weather. You don’t bother taking off your costumes all the way, instead shifting or straight up ripping fabric until they can fully feel your softness—)

And say a drone or something does record your public indecency and leaks it, Johnny will have a private watch party—(this is canon)

Peter is more than willing to watch you and Johnny go at it, definitely has a whole album dedicated to you two; you and Johnny posing in lingerie, close ups of your fucked our expressions, etc

And for the Marvel Rivals fans, you three always work well together on the same team; staying on point and making quick work of the enemy team, but if even one of you is on the other team, then you three will be suspiciously absent for the whole match.

(While your teammates yell for you to get on the payload, you’re preoccupied getting spit roasted by Johnny and Peter on the other side of the map, with Johnny not at all worried about muffling his moans like Peter, who probably crushed the wall behind him if he’s getting head(—none of you having the heart to team up on the one on the rival team))

You definitely traumatized Ben when he went to look for his missing teammates—

Also off topic, but Johnny has definitely mounted you and said ‘prepare for the storm’ before entering you—-he will never live this moment down, especially if Peter’s there—

Both have probably used the hacker line, ‘I’m in’, on separate occasions—

[beforeastorm]

New theory: Ravi, canonically, is some kind of Druid/Weather Witch/Storm Sorcerer.

Big emergencies with Mother Nature? Don't happen on Ravi's watch. Earthquake, Tsunami, Landslide - all these natural disasters happen one after the other, then, boom, Ravi shows up and they stop. Coincidence? I think not.

After he joins the 118, we have snipers and hackers and kidnappers: all terrible, but ultimately all people derived.

Then, Ravi goes to the Academy and what happens? Buck gets struck by lightning. Sure, Bobby missed Ravi and wanted him back regardless, but he also needed Ravi to protect the 118.

And then Bobby leaves Ravi's sphere of influence and gets caught in a hurricane. Sure, the pirates didn't help, but still, a hurricane.

TL;DR Dude can control the weather I will not be taking questions at this time.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Circular battery self-sufficiency

I'm coming to DEFCON! On FRIDAY (Aug 9), I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On SATURDAY (Aug 10), I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

If we are going to survive the climate emergency, we will have to electrify – that is, transition from burning fossil fuels to collecting, storing, transmitting and using renewable energy generated by e.g. the tides, the wind, and (especially) the Sun.

Electrification is a big project, but it's not an insurmountable one. Planning and executing an electric future is like eating the elephant: we do it one step at a time. This is characteristic of big engineering projects, which explains why so many people find it hard to imagine pulling this off.

As a layperson, you are far more likely to be exposed to a work of popular science than you are a work of popular engineering. Pop science is great, but its role is to familiarize you with theory, not practice. Popular engineering is a minuscule and obscure genre, which is a pity, because it's one of my favorites.

Weathering the climate emergency is going to require a lot of politics, to be sure, but it's also going to require a lot of engineering, which is why I'm grateful for the nascent but vital (and growing) field of popular engineering. Not to mention, the practitioners of popular engineering tend to be a lot of fun, like the hosts of the Well That's Your Problem podcast, a superb long-form leftist podcast about engineering disasters (with slides!):

https://www.youtube.com/@welltheresyourproblempodca1465

If you want to get started on popular engineering and the climate, your first stop should be the "Without the Hot Air" series, which tackles sustainable energy, materials, transportation and food as engineering problems. You'll never think about climate the same way again:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/06/methane-diet/#3kg-per-day

Then there's Saul Griffith's 2021 book Electrify, which is basically a roadmap for carrying out the electrification of America and the world:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/09/practical-visionary/#popular-engineering

Griffith's book is inspiring and visionary, but to really get a sense of how fantastic an electrified world can be, it's gotta be Deb Chachra's How Infrastructure Works:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/17/care-work/#charismatic-megaprojects

Chachra is a material scientist who teaches at Olin College, and her book is a hymn to the historical and philosophical underpinnings of infrastructure, but more than anything, it's a popular engineering book about what is possible. For example, if we want to give every person on Earth the energy budget of a Canadian (like an American, but colder), we would only have to capture 0.4% of the solar energy that reaches the Earth's surface.

Now, this is a gigantic task, but it's a tractable one. Resolving it will require a very careful – and massive – marshaling of materials, particularly copper, but also a large number of conflict minerals and rare earths. It's gonna be hard.

But it's not impossible, let alone inconceivable. Indeed, Chachra's biggest contribution in this book is to make a compelling case for reconceiving our relationship to energy and materials. As a species, we have always treated energy as scarce, trying to wring every erg and therm that we can out of our energy sources. Meanwhile, we've treated materials as abundant, digging them up or chopping them down, using them briefly, then tossing them on a midden or burying them in a pit.

Chachra argues that this is precisely backwards. Our planet gets a fresh supply of energy twice a day, with sunrise (solar) and moonrise (tides). On the other hand, we've only got one Earth's worth of materials, supplemented very sporadically when a meteor survives entry into our atmosphere. Mining asteroids, the Moon and other planets is a losing proposition for the long foreseeable future:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

The promise of marshaling a very large amount of materials is that it will deliver effectively limitless, clean energy. This project will take a lot of time and its benefits will primarily accrue to people who come after its builders, which is why it is infrastructure. As Chachra says, infrastructure is inherently altruistic, a gift to our neighbors and our descendants. If all you want is a place to stick your own poop, you don't need to build a citywide sanitation system.

What's more, we can trade energy for materials. Manufacturing goods so that they gracefully decompose back into the material stream at the end of their lives is energy intensive. Harvesting materials from badly designed goods is also energy intensive. But if once we build out the renewables grid (which will take a lot of materials), we will have all the energy we need (to preserve and re-use our materials).

Our species' historical approach to materials is not (ahem) carved in stone. It is contingent. It has changed. It can change again. It needs to change, because the way we extract materials today is both unjust and unsustainable.

The horrific nature of material extraction under capitalism – and its geopolitics (e.g. "We will coup whoever we want! Deal with it.") – has many made comrades in the climate fight skeptical (or worse, cynical) about a clean energy transition. They do the back-of-the-envelope math about the material budget for electrification, mentally convert that to the number of wildlife preserves, low-income communities, unspoiled habitat and indigenous lands that we would destroy in the process of gathering those materials, and conclude that the whole thing is a farce.

That analysis is important, but it's incomplete. Yes, marshaling all those materials in the way that we do today would be catastrophic. But the point of a climate transition is that we will transition our approach to our planet, our energy, and our materials. That transition can and should challenge all the assumptions underpinning electrification doomerism.

Take the material bill itself: the assumption that a transition will require a linearly scaled quantity of materials includes the assumption that cleantech won't find substantial efficiencies in its material usage. Thankfully, that's a very bad assumption! Cleantech is just getting started. It's at the stage where we're still uncovering massive improvements to production (unlike fossil fuel technology, whose available efficiencies have been discovered and exploited, so that progress is glacial and negligible).

Take copper: electrification requires a lot of copper. But the amount of copper needed for each part of the cleantech revolution is declining faster than the demand for cleantech is rising. Just one example: between the first and second iteration of the Rivian electric vehicle, designers figured out how to remove 1.6 miles of copper wire from each vehicle:

https://insideevs.com/news/722265/rivian-r1s-r1t-wiring/

That's just one iteration and one technology! And yeah, EVs are only peripheral to a cleantech transition; for one thing, geometry hates cars. We're going to have to build a lot of mass transit, and we're going to be realizing these efficiencies with every generation of train, bus, and tram:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/29/geometry-hates-uber/#toronto-the-gullible

We have just lived through a massive surge in electrification, with unimaginable quantities of new renewables coming online and a stunning replacement of conventional vehicles with EVs, and throughout that surge, demand for copper remained flat:

https://www.chemanalyst.com/NewsAndDeals/NewsDetails/copper-wire-price-remains-stable-amidst-surplus-supply-and-expanding-mining-25416#:~:text=Global%20Copper%20wire%20Price%20Remains%20Stable%20Amidst%20Surplus%20Supply%20and%20Expanding%20Mining%20Activities

This isn't to say that cleantech is a solved problem. There are many political aspects to cleantech that remain pernicious, like the fact that so many of the cleantech offerings on the market are built around extractive financial arrangements (like lease-back rooftop solar) and "smart" appliances (like heat pumps and induction tops) that require enshittification-ready apps:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/26/unplanned-obsolescence/#better-micetraps

There's a quiet struggle going on between cleantech efficiencies and the finance sector's predation, from lease-back to apps to the carbon-credit scam, but many of those conflicts are cashing out in favor of a sustainable future and it doesn't help our cause to ignore those: we should be cheering them on!

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/12/s-curve/#anything-that-cant-go-on-forever-eventually-stops

Take "innovation." Silicon Valley's string of pump-and-dump nonsense – cryptocurrency, NFTs, metaverse, web3, and now AI – have made "innovation" into a dirty word. As the AI bubble bursts, the very idea of innovation is turning into a punchline:

https://www.wheresyoured.at/burst-damage/

But cleantech is excitingly, wonderfully innovative. The contrast between the fake innovation of Silicon Valley and the real – and vital – innovation of cleantech couldn't be starker, or more inspiring:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/30/posiwid/#social-cost-of-carbon

Like the "battery problem." Whenever the renewables future is raised, there's always a doomer insisting that batteries are an unsolved – and unsolvable – problem, and without massive batteries, there's no sense in trying, because the public won't accept brownouts when the sun goes down and the wind stops blowing.

Sometimes, these people are shilling boondoggles like nuclear power (reminder: this is Hiroshima Day):

https://theconversation.com/dutton-wants-australia-to-join-the-nuclear-renaissance-but-this-dream-has-failed-before-209584

Other times, they're just trying to foreclose on the conversation about a renewables transition altogether. But sometimes, these doubts are raised by comrades who really do want a transition and have serious questions about power storage.

If you're one of those people, I have some very good news: battery tech is taking off. Some of that takes the form of wild and cool new approaches. In Finland, a Scottish company is converting a disused copper mine into a gravity battery. During the day, excess renewables hoist a platform piled with tons of rock up a 530m shaft. At night, the platform lowers slowly, driving a turbine and releasing its potential energy. This is incredibly efficient, has a tiny (and sustainable) bill of materials, and it's highly replicable. The world has sufficient abandoned mine-shafts to store 70TWh of power – that's the daily energy budget for the entire planet. What's more, every mine shaft has a beefy connection to the power grid, because you can't run a mine without a lot of power:

https://www.euronews.com/green/2024/02/06/this-disused-mine-in-finland-is-being-turned-into-a-gravity-battery-to-store-renewable-ene

Gravity batteries are great for utility-scale storage, but we also need a lot of batteries for things that we can't keep plugged into the wall, like vehicles, personal electronics, etc. There's great news on that score, too! "The Battery Mineral Loop" is a new report from the Rocky Mountain Institute that describes the path to "circular battery self-sufficiency":

https://rmi.org/wp-content/uploads/dlm_uploads/2024/07/the_battery_mineral_loop_report_July.pdf

The big idea: rather than digging up new minerals to make batteries, we can recycle minerals from dead batteries to make new ones. Remember, energy can be traded for materials: we can expend more energy on designs that are optimized to decompose back into their component materials, or we can expend more energy extracting materials from designs that aren't optimized for recycling.

Both things are already happening. From the executive summary:

The chemistry of batteries is rapidly improving: over the past decade, we've reduced per-using demand for lithium, nickle and cobalt by 60-140%, and most lithium batteries are being recycled, not landfilled.

Within a decade, we'll hit peak mineral demand for batteries. By the mid-2030s, the amount of new "virgin minerals" needed to meet our battery demand will stop growing and start declining.

By 2050, we could attain net zero mineral demand for batteries: that is, we could meet all our energy storage needs without digging up any more minerals.

We are on a path to a "one-off" extraction effort. We can already build batteries that work for 10-15 years and whose materials can be recycled with 90-94% efficiency.

The total quantity of minerals we need to extract to permanently satisfy the world's energy storage needs is about 125m tons.

This last point is the one that caught my eye. Extracting 125m tons of anything is a tall order, and depending on how it's done, it could wreak a terrible toll on people and the places they live.

But one question I learned to ask from Tim Harford and BBC More Or Less is "is that a big number?" 125m tons sure feels like a large number, but it is one seventeenth of the amount of fossil fuels we dig up every year just for road transport. In other words, we're talking about spending the next thirty years carefully, sustainably, humanely extracting about 5.8% of the materials we currently pump and dig every year for our cars. Do that, and we satisfy our battery needs more-or-less forever.

This is a big engineering project. We've done those before. Crisscrossing the world with roads, supplying billions of fossil-fuel vehicles, building the infrastructure for refueling them, pumping billions of gallons of oil – all of that was done in living memory. As Robin Sloan wrote:

Did people say, at the dawn of the automobile: are you kidding me? This technology will require a ubiquitous network of refueling stations, one or two at every major intersection … even if there WAS that much gas in the world, how would you move it around at that scale? If everybody buys a car, you’ll need to build highways, HUGE ones — you’ll need to dig up cities! Madness!

https://www.robinsloan.com/newsletters/room-for-everybody/

That big project cost trillions and required bending the productive capacity of many nations to its completion. It produced a ghastly geopolitics that elevated petrostates – a hole in the ground, surrounded by guns – to kingmakers whose autocrats can knock the world on its ass at will.

By contrast, this giant engineering project is relatively modest, and it will upend that global order, yielding energy sovereignty (and its handmaiden, national resliency) to every country on Earth. Doing it well will be hard, and require that we rethink our relationship to energy and materials, but that's a bonus, not a cost. Changing how we use materials and energy will make all our lives better, it will improve the lives of the living things we share the planet with, and it will strip the monsters who currently control our energy supply of their political, economic, and electric power.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/06/with-great-power/#comes-great-responsibility

[bvnneyrabbet]

With the new patch update that had just released, we got new milestone renders for 007n7.

On 007n7's milestone 4 render, we can see missing posters in the background on a lamppost.

007n7's blacklist photo reads "and his neglected son."

And if you look closely on c00lkidd's missing poster, you can see that the picture was taken in NDS, proven by the green balloon billboard and what I presume to be a part of the weather machine/The Cataclysm on the other side.

c00lkidd's face is blacked out.

Did c00lkidd go missing after or around the time they visited NDS, or was this an old photo?

Also, 007n7 has a NDS themed skin, with c00lkidd floating into the air with a balloon wrapped around his waist, and I presume for that to also be when c00lkidd was much younger, like around 5 - 7.

From what we know, c00lkidd and 007n7 likely do have lore with Stickmasterluke surrounding c00lkidd's hackings in NDS. And from what we can tell from the missing poster, the Disasters 007n7 skin, and one of the pictures in c00l Carnival, c00lkidd and 007n7 probably visited NDS a lot.

So if the photo is a recent one, that means Luke hadn't banned them from NDS if the mechanic of banning in games also exists in the Forsaken universe, which it likely does. Did Luke spare them out of pity? Why didn't he ban them?

But if this photo is an old one, that means it likely takes place before c00lkidd started hacking in NDS, which in turn means that Luke had likely banned them after.

And since 007n7 is canonically a retired hacker, that could also mean had hacked in NDS even before he got c00lkidd. So due to that, I feel that Luke has a big grudge towards 007n7 due to both his hackings and the hackings of his son.

Depressed, emotionally unstable and mentally unwell single father VS an aliferous antlered angel white boy. Lets fucking go.

[heartsforvin]

hi bae! I was wondering if you could write a fic about the reader having like heart problems and vinnie is always looking out for the reader if that makes any sense<3

TAKING CARE OF YOU

i loveee this because i actually have heart problems (more of a condition) and i think ab this a lot🥲 i hope you like this, thank you for the request !! also i hope you don’t mind i added a tinge of angst, just a lil small argument, but overall it’s fluffy !

+ i hope you don’t mind me implicating my own heart problems into this, it’s really the only cardiovascular thing i know most about 🥲

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: cussing?? , small argument, use of pet names, use of medication, vinnie just being the best bf , fluff

summary: after knowing about your heart problems, vinnie is by your side night and day to make sure you’re okay

you and vinnie had been together about a month when you finally told him the news about your heart. once you did, he asked you why you didn’t say anything sooner, why you didn’t tell him when you first met, but you told him you just needed time.

he understood, after the two of you had a tiny argument, it was mainly vinnie asking you over and over why you didn’t say anything sooner.

it was really no big deal, and you told that to vinnie, but he seemed to think it was. you loved that side of him of course, because it honestly was serious, but it didn’t effect your everyday life like other things.

you mentioned to him that you couldn’t do certain things like riding on the big roller coaster rides, skydive, or anything that could put your heart at risk really.

he didn’t mind that you had to sit out on some things, that just meant you two had to find something else to do if you wanted to go to an amusement park.

today, you and vinnie had one of your yearly cardiologist appointments. when you were younger it was more than once a year, but over time your heart got better and the doctors only needed to see you yearly.

“you got everything, baby?” vinnie asks as you grab your purse.

you nod as he grabs your hand in his and the two of you walk out of the apartment and to the elevator.

on your way to the doctors, vinnie’s hand finds its home on your thigh as you place your hand on his with a smile.

“think we’ll get good news today?” he asks, glancing at you for a minute before putting his eyes back on the road.

you look at him with a smile. “that’s all it has been for awhile, no signs of anything major yet,” you breathe out. “i think it’ll be good.”

vinnie returns your smile and takes your hand to squeeze it reassuringly, letting you know no matter what, everything will be okay.

⋆.ೃ࿔*

after your appointment vinnie had decided to treat you to ice cream, which you of course said yes to. once you two got your ice cream you decided to sit outside on a picnic table since the weather was nice.

“i think that went well.” vinnie said after a moment of silence.

you nodded as you put a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. “besides the fact that they gave me medication to take.” you tell him.

the doctor had prescribed some sort of medication to help your heart, you didn’t think it was very necessary since your heart is already in almost perfect condition.

vinnie sighed, he had a feeling you’d bring this up when the two of you were alone. “you know it’s just helping you.” he reassures.

you glare at him, not muttering a word as you finish your ice cream. you knew he was right, but you felt like it wasn’t necessary at all. 

finishing up your ice cream, the two sat in silence there and on the ride back to the apartment. you were grateful for vinnie looking out for you and helping you out, but sometimes you wish he’d back off a bit.

once back at the apartment, you drop your things on the counter and take your shoes off before going to the couch to cuddle with hera.

on your way home the two of you had stopped at the pharmacy to get your medication.

once vinnie had put his things down he opened up the bag your medicine was in and read off the label.

“baby it says you have to take it once daily after breakfast.” vinnie informed, walking over to you and sitting on the couch.

you looked at him and nodded as you continued to cuddle hera. “i’ll start it tomorrow.” you told him.

.ೃ࿔*

tomorrow came and here you were arguing with vinnie about some silly medicine.

you didn’t think you’d be arguing with him about this fire thing in the morning, but here you were.

“sweetheart just take it, it’s one pill and once a day, no big deal.” vinnie said, trying to get you to take your medicine.

he stood over you as you laid on your side of the bed, still trying to get up for the day. vinnie had made you breakfast and put out a glass of orange juice and your medicine.

“i told you i don’t need it, it’s stupid.” you argued back.

vinnie rolled his eyes. he wasn’t going to force you to do anything, so he just left you how you were and waited.

hours passed and you did eventually take your medicine. you sat on the couch with vinnie as hera came up to sit on your lap.

“feelin’ okay?” vinnie asks as he runs his fingers through your hair.

you nod. “yeah, i’m sorry for yelling at you this morning.” you apologize.

vinnie kisses the side of your head and gives you a smile. “it’s okay. i’m just trying to help you out, i hope you know that.”

vinnie’s words almost make you tear up. he’s been helping you and taking care of you ever since you told him, and you can’t thank him enough.

“i know,” you sigh. “i just..i took these years ago and they made no difference, so i don’t know why i’m on them again.” you explain.

vinnie hums as he continues to run his fingers through your hair. “i couldn’t give you an answer for that, baby,” he tells you. “take them for a bit and update the doctor how you’re doing and then they’ll tell us if you still need them or not, okay?”

you nod with a smile as you lean in to hug him. vinnie hugs you tight, kissing your head as you stay like that for a minute.

“are you feelin’ okay though, like really? no chest pain or anything? ‘cause i know you do get those little pains here and there.” he asks as he pulls away from you.

laughing slightly you nod. “i’m fine vin, swear. i’d tell you if i’m not feeling good or in pain, you know that.”

he holds you in his arms and kisses your head. “i know, i know. you know i just like taking care of you, that’s what i’m here for.”

you hug him and kiss his head like he did to you moments ago. “i know baby, and thank you for taking care of me. i love you.”

cupping your face, you both smile at each other before vinnie leans in to softly kiss you.

“of course sweetheart,” he breathes, out. “it’s what i’m here for, i’ll always be here for you no matter what. i love you.”

the two stay like that for awhile — in each others arms with hera right beside you. you’re glad you have vinnie here with you, to love you and take care of you so you’re not doing any of this alone.

you couldn’t ask for anyone else, all you wanted was him. your boy.

heyyy ���😜 i hope you all liked this and thank you again for the request !!!

taglist: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @42angelgirl , @bernelflo , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @sturnioloshacker , @slvthrs , @visualbutterflysworld , @khackerr , @leqonsluv3r , @khxna , @supabhad , @kriissy4gov , @kayleighh , @laylasbunbunny , @defnotayonna , @violet0182 , @hallecarey1 , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @eddieslut69 , @miilzzy , @skye-44 , @jpg3

[pricegotmedickmatized]

are the neighbors watching me?

Alpha!Graves x Omega!FOC, modern workplace romance, ~15k

cw: stalking, manipulation, virginity kink, possessive behavior, innocence kink, control kink, noncon filming, curvy oc, "chubby chaser"!graves, age difference, sugar daddy!graves, modern omegaverse, noncon filming, love at first sight

Chicago was like any major city. Taxis honking, tourists gawking and stumbling along in their clumps and gaggles like geese fucking up traffic, hawkers and food vendors shouting, locals cursing under their breath and at the top of their lungs by turns - 

Truth be told, Graves wasn’t sure if he liked or hated big cities. 

He liked the action, he was at his best with his head on a swivel. 

But he hated the smell of big cities. He had a more over sensitive nose than most other alphas, but he couldn’t see how even betas could stand to be in big cities. He genuinely worried he’d go nose blind, and he was only in Chicago for a few days at this conference. 

He’d gone back and forth on attending before finally caving. It wouldn’t do any harm to schmooze with Shepherd’s friends and get more backers for Shadow Company before the official launch date. More backers meant more contracts, more contracts meant more money, etc etc. 

So here he was, on his way back from day two and trying not to regret every minute of it, trying to ignore the niggling voice in the back of his head that spoke up whenever Shepherd moved or smiled or laughed or said anything. 

He’d decided to walk back to his hotel in the vain hopes of getting a bit of fresh air, a foolish endeavor if he’d ever undertaken one. 

But as his footsteps kept him marching doggedly on while the sun sank lower over the horizon, temperature dropping like a stone in the early-fall weather, the crowds began to thin as he neared the less tourist-clogged areas of the city. 

He was still trying to breathe as shallowly as possible without accidentally making himself pass out (something that may or may not have happened once or twice before) when the smog and glut of sewage/garbage/stale food/gasoline was pierced by one scent. 

Clean. Crisp. Cool. 

Melon and ocean water, sweet and refreshing and light. 

He started following it without even thinking about it, all thoughts of finding a strip club or  a bar to find a pretty thing in absolutely gone in an instant. 

Singling out the source of the mouthwatering scent was simple. His prey was a sweet little omega who’d just come out of the grocery store with a small bag and a medium size bouquet of cheap carnations. 

Pretty thing. I’ll get you the kind of flowers you deserve, angel, swear I will.  

Fuck, she was pretty. Plump and rounded in all her limbs just the way he liked, long shiny dark hair dressed in bouncy curls down her back, that perfect body wrapped up in the cutest fucking white girl outfit he’d ever seen: stockings that teased the tops of her thighs and only visible when the wind caught her plaid skirt just right, a little jacket that did probably next to nothing to shield her from the beginnings of a midwestern chill in the air, and little heeled booties that still barely had the top of her head up to meet his shoulder. 

God she was so fucking pretty when he asked his tech (hacker, but one had to shy away from that word as a PMC) to tap into the city security cameras and he got a good look at her face. 

She was all curves and sweetness there too, round dark eyes that he’d love to see glitter with the reflections of diamonds, full rosy cheeks, and a glossy, perfect, candy pink plush mouth stretched in a wide smile as she chatted on the phone to someone.  

Naughty girl, you need to pay better attention to your surroundings. Make sure you don’t catch the attention of a predator. Like me. 

He was already having to fight getting hard, fangs itching to drop and eyes wanting to flash, a low growl battled back in his chest. Her scent wove it’s way through his body like a goddamn snake, wrapping around each rib, curling around his heart, tying into knots and tangles around his veins, his bones, every part of his body and yanking tight when she laughed, bright and merry like a bell. 

No matter how much he wanted to, he didn’t follow her home. Not physically. He kept his tech on her movements, following her to her little apartment building on the cameras. 

Instantly he disliked the look of the place. Dingy, in a somewhat worn-down part of the city, and the building security he could see from a distance was fucking laughable. 

To think that a place like that was all that was protecting a sweet little omega like her from the big bad world - it made his hands itch to draw blood, made him have to fight some strange long ingrained instinct to hunt her a doe, carve out it’s heart in offering, tuck her into his silk sheets with his knot plugging her full. 

Standing against the corner of the restaurant just down the block from her building (a college age dive, by the looks of it, actually the whole district was), he zoomed in on the screenshot of her laughing, a glossy curl blown across her cheek, the cheap carnations in the crook of her elbow. 

In the hollow of her collarbone, a cheap, flimsy initial necklace, an L (Louise? Lily?). 

I’ll get you real gold. With your birthstone, honey, gonna spoil you so fucking rotten… 

One whiff of her scent and he was hooked. He’d always prided himself on his independence, one of the few alphas who made it to their mid-30s without a mate and pups. With his life in the military, it would have driven him crazy worrying about a pretty little omega home all alone, missing him. 

But now…now he could afford a luxury like that, in more than just one way. He was coming into money, more than he’d ever know what to do with on his own. 

With a pretty little omega wife, though, he’d have an outlet for it. And with all the pups he’d get on a young, healthy, fertile fucking thing like her…

Right. 

Decision made. 

A wide smirk formed on his face, the edges of it cruel as he started to (reluctantly) move back to his original path to his hotel. But not to freshen up to find a horny beta or some broad-minded alpha in a bar, no. He had the ultimate objective in mind. He needed to plan. 

With a few taps the picture of her his tech had sent became his phone background, and he set the man on digging up everything he could find on her. 

By the time he got back to the hotel, the concierge tripping over himself to offer Graves assistance, he had everything he needed to get started. 

Name, Lauren Elizabeth Hudson. Twenty one years old, a business student who was an only child without much of anything interesting in her background. She was an A student from a middle class family, who judging by their credit card and phone statements, only maintained a cool and infrequent line of communication with her. 

Perfect. 

That left him room to work his way in, color in the blank and lonely corners of her life until he blotted all of the rest of it away completely. 

In his room, he sipped on a fifteen year old whiskey and pulled together an infallible plan of attack. 

He’d let her finish college, she only had a year and half a semester left anyway, and it would give him time to solidify Shadow Company’s standing, really make it the perfect place for a recent graduate of business school, whatever that fuck one learned there, to apply to. 

And because he was reasonable, he’d let her keep at least the illusion of her freedom for a while after. Let her think she was making it on her own in the big city as a grown woman, all while he pulled her deeper into his life. 

It would take strategy, to keep anyone from touching her between now and then. He didn’t mind competition, not that there could ever be any, but when he’d looked into her social media he’d discovered that there was absolutely no evidence of any boyfriends not even dates in spite of group pictures of school dances where her friends were paired off but she was simply standing awkward and alone out to the side. 

Her social media was sparse to the untrained eye but a gold mine to Graves’. There was a largely ignored Facebook page, an Instagram that she mostly posted outfits and ‘get ready with me’s on, and a Tumblr account that had at apparently at one time been a hopping source of One Direction fantasies. The account had long gone dusty so now all her posts were untagged and seemingly unnoticed private and anonymous ramblings to the mostly inactive or deactivated follower list about the stigma of virginity and her worries about finding a partner. 

(And her heat, fuck, don’t forget the descriptions of her heat cycle, even the complains about being sore made him think about how much worse she’d be after a week taking his fucking knot, fresh bite marks scarring up her pretty skin.) 

The confirmation that she was still a virgin, completely and totally untouched in every way was enough to have him wrapping a hand around his cock and fighting not to cum. 

So yes. He’d let her graduate, lure her into an appropriate position within Shadow Company under his direct sight at all times, and to ensure he got what he wanted he’d need some carefully planned shadows implanted at the fringes of her world to encourage her to turn to him. 

Shadows. There was an idea on how to achieve that. 

He had time to figure out the specifics, figure out what would appeal to her most, craft the perfect way to get her to apply to a position at Shadow Company so he could pull her in close. 

If his patience ran out or he needed to come up with a quicker plan, there was always a convenient meeting when her heat suppressants mysteriously ‘failed’. 

At least one contingency plan would keep him calm if it came down to that. 

By the time the sun came up he’d caught a couple hours of sleep, did another fine-tuning run through of the last presentation he’d be giving about Shadow Company to potential clients, spoke to the contractors building Shadow Company HQ, got in a workout in the state of the art hotel gym, and arranged to have security cameras, trackers, and even a discreet guard (a beta who Graves couldn’t in good conscious put in the field any more but had promised to find a job he could do and damn if this didn’t fit the bill) to keep watch over Lauren.

He whistled as he got out of the shower, phone chiming with the flight details for Lauren’s new guard (Samuels had said he could get out of New York that day, so Graves had made the arrangements for him to pick up all the cameras and other supplies in Chicago to secure and bug her ratty little apartment), and as he picked up his phone he spotted a text from Shepherd reminding him about their meeting. 

Graves’ whistling died down, eyes narrowing as he considered the text. The wording. His hackles rose reading it over and over again. But fuck if he knew why. 

Just something…deep. Instinctual. 

A problem to watch, unravel as he got more information. His instincts had never led him astray, he just had to trust them. 

For the moment, he sent back an affirmative, and then scrolled back to the pictures from Lauren’s Instagram. 

He had no fucking business panting after an omega this young and innocent. Fifteen years his junior, it wouldn’t have been totally out of the question for him to have a child her age. 

And damn him to hell, but that got him hot to think about how young and innocent and sweet she was. And all his. All his. 

He traced the curve of her cheek in the picture under his thumb, cock throbbing between his legs. That smile was so pretty. He wanted to see it in person, wanted to be the reason for it. Wanted to see her smile like that at their pups. 

Soon, he consoled himself. 

Just you wait honey, gonna make you so completely mine you’ll forget who you were before then. 

-

Two years later he was beginning to feel his patience wearing dangerously thin. 

Having Lauren actually within eyesight during the day and within reach for most of that helped…at first. And then very quickly it just started making it all so much worse.  

For the most part, things had proceeded exactly as he’d wanted them to. Samuels had kept watch over Lauren during the last three semesters of her undergrad, making sure that she never had to worry about getting hurt on late night walks home from the campus library (and because she didn’t know Graves was making sure she stayed safe, she still took all the precautions any single omega should’ve, his good fucking girl). 

And just as important Samuels had made sure through various methods that when Lauren went home, she went alone. And arrived home alone, to an empty apartment, and more importantly to an empty bed, free of any nosy little beta or overreaching bastard alpha who could’ve even thought of laying hands on what belonged to Graves and Graves alone. 

He didn’t want her because she was a virgin, wouldn’t knot her and mate her and breed her pussy full just because no one’d ever even touched it but her…but fuck he couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

That kind of ownership, that kind of proprietary claim, it was addictive to the beast prowling impatiently beneath his skin. The one that wanted to sink fang gum deep and knot. 

Fuck. 

Really he did have so much to be grateful for, including how smoothly things had gone after her time at college was over. 

When she was preparing for graduation, top of her class, god his smart fucking omega, he had a sapphire charm bracelet for her ready to go as a reward, all it took was a careful threat/bribe (the kind that Graves had long ago mastered the balance of) murmured into the ear of her guidance counselor to ensure she applied to a PA position at Shadow Company. 

It helped settle her reported hesitance to apply that it was a real position posted and meant to cover all types of experience level, and there were hundreds of applicants of varying suitability. 

But Graves had no intention of taking anyone but her for his PA. He could handle his own schedule if she turned out to be incompetent, it was the captains and lieutenants of SC’s departments that needed the actual PA’s that went through the real job application process. 

He’d planned, honestly, that she’d never work another day in her life once he got his claim on that pretty fucking neck. 

But. 

Well. 

No battlefield plan survived contact with the ‘enemy’. 

Lauren was the only flaw in his plan. 

See, she had the audacity to actually be fucking good at her job. 

At every turn she fucking excelled. Exceeded expectations, above and beyond the call, whatever corporate horseshit you wanted to call it, she did it. She anticipated his every need no matter how miniscule, could manage even his most overpacked schedules, and most importantly of all she could delegate, deal, joke, and effectively command every department and team that worked under the Shadow Company name. 

By the time she celebrated her six month anniversary at SC, she’d made herself fucking indispensable. She was integral to the way SC functioned, the contracts Graves negotiated (always weighed heavily in his favor with military knothead alphas distracted by her plump pretty body visible through his clear office windows), she was the goddamn mama to his fucking Shadows. 

They were planning a gift for her for Mother’s Day, more than half a year away. 

Samuels (still on occasional guard duty even with her in D.C. and now living in a ‘company provided’ apartment close to Graves ‘if he needed her on short notice’) had been the one to broach that particular development with him. 

And far from irritating him the way it by all rights should have, it turned him the fuck on. 

He wanted her so much the word had lost meaning, he needed her on his knot, wearing his claim and smelling like him, and she fucking refused to drop her goddamn professionalism long enough to give in. 

She wanted him. He could smell her slick, sweet as wild honey on the back of his tongue, coating his lungs every time he crowded up against her back and leaned over her as she sat at her desk, his fists braced on either side of her cute little pink wireless keyboard, dictating to her. 

Every time he flashed a smile at her, let his voice dip a little in volume, slow to the southern drawl that he only used to drop a woman’s panties, she shivered, turned her wrists up to him, pupils blowing wide and dark, head tilting just perfect to flash a strip of perfect unmarked neck. 

It was instinct. 

Lauren’s every instinct was screaming at her to park herself on his desk and lift her short little skirt and present her slick virgin cunt to him for him to relieve some goddamn tension. 

But. 

She. 

Just. 

Wouldn’t. 

Hence why Graves’ patience was beginning to wear thin. And every other fucking soul at Shadow Company knew it. 

They all got raises near the three month mark when she wore a sundress to the Fourth of July company barbecue. It was fucking ninety degrees and outside, he’d even provided a water slide bounce house for his Shadows and their kids, never suspecting that he’d get one glimpse of her soft body gleaming with sweat in the radiating summer sun, so much of her plump figure exposed to view in that short, thin fucking dress, and he’d lose his goddamn mind. 

But that was exactly what had happened. One minute he’d been talking to Oz about a job, and then the next he was looming behind her back, claws sunk into his palms, blood pooling between his fingers as he fought back a rumbling sound of possession. Luckily he hadn’t jumped her in front of the Shadows, not that he’d mind his pack seeing, but their poor kids and their soft little mates were all there too. 

And Lauren wouldn’t like her first time to be face down ass up in a hastily abandonded park as sunlight dripped over her turning her sweat into honey as sweet as her slick while he made her scream for her alpha. 

So he’d managed to keep his hands to himself. But he’d had the subtlety of a fucking grenade, stalking half a step behind her and standing way too close, almost touching, looming over her shoulder the entire fucking day, and pouring pheromones over her the entire time like a goddamn animal. Baring fangs and flashing eyes at anyone who got within arm’s reach. 

His Shadows, god fucking bless the loyal fucks, had just ensured no beta or alpha got too close and behaved like it was completely normal, acceptable behavior. Regardless of the fact that any decent alpha would have had him hung for pulling a stunt like that on an omega they weren’t mated to. 

Lauren had pretended not to notice, but he could smell her melon scent turn hot candy sweet, the ocean spray note to her scent turning balmy like she was on a beach in the Caribbean, all sweat and sunscreen and salt and hot. 

She wanted him fucking bad. 

In the past six months she’d started calling his name in her sleep, and when her false heat had hit (only a couple days long and not nearly as strong with her suppressants) she’d spent the entirety of it rubbing her cunt and begging, crying for ‘Phillip, please, need it, need your knot so much, so empty, Phillip need it need it Phillip please’. 

The security cameras he’d put into her apartment, everywhere but the bathroom, had paid off big time. 

Graves spent a concerning amount of time just watching her live her life in the off hours he afforded her, though there weren’t many of them. 

He was obsessed. 

He was in lust. 

He was in love, because she was so fucking smart, picking any new subject thrown at her within a few minutes like she was born to it. And she was so goddamn sweet, babying and worrying over Graves and his Shadows in the field, always the first voice that they heard coming back to base, worried tones turning joy bright with relief when Graves told her everyone was fine, and if they weren’t, it was her who wrote out detailed, heartfelt get well soon cards, or on the rare and unwelcome occasion it was called for, mournful letters to families. 

Every time he thought she couldn’t get more perfect, she proved him wrong. 

She had his coffee order (more complicated than a Starbucks barista’s worst nightmare) memorized and perfected within a week. 

Within two weeks she’d organized and optimized his daily meetings and check-ins so he could maximize the time he actually spent with his Shadows rather than on the bureaucratic and financial shit. 

In a month she’d mastered the communications system that since they’d opened their doors had been a fucking disaster, a tangled web of requests for meetings about potential contracts or existing contracts. What Graves used to have to waste an hour wading through to sort and categorize and straighten out, she took right off his hands and streamlined the entire process. He no longer had to waste time wading through bullshit double talk and spy wording to figure out what the fuck SC was actually being asked to do and for whom. 

She’d also mastered knowing him. Every flicker of emotion, every wash of instinct driven irritability or impatience or unreasonable goddamn demand, she was prepared for each one, and no matter how good he’d always thought he’d been about keeping himself in check (an alpha’s hormones let loose could turn to a fucking biohazard just like an omega’s), she just knew what he needed. 

Whether it was an extra coffee left as a peace offering on the corner of his desk, or a home baked cookie in a Ziploc tucked beneath folders in his briefcase as a reward after a meeting with Shepherd, or just her in his office, waiting anxiously with a smile for him to reel in to a tight hug the second he saw her after touching down in DC after returning from the field. 

No matter what it was, she always knew exactly what he needed and gave it to him without prompting. 

Save the one glaring exception of her cunt and her fucking throat. 

Her hand in marriage would be nice too but that could come after he got his claim on that pretty skin for everyone to see. 

Anticipating his needs went beyond just the emotional, too. She slipped MRE’s and energy bars into his go bag, knowing he burned through food quick with his metabolism. She packed soft, light, durable home comforts like lightweight but warm blankets for him and his Shadows. Or even sometimes she’d slip in notes wishing them luck and safety out on missions. 

Lauren also had a knack for knowing which jobs to take, and which jobs not to. Her instincts, like most other omegas, were top fucking notch, and he’d buried far fewer of his Shadows since she’d started sorting through contracts and presenting them to him in ranked piles of which ones she thought were good bets (not just safety wise but financially or even as building blocks for the future), and which ones she didn’t. 

She was actually the one who had nudged him into making Laswell his point of contact with the DOD and thus all of SC’s operations in Urzikstan, effectively limiting his professional contact with Shepherd except for formality reasons. 

He never would’ve gone through with that on his own. He had some still foreign and frankly unwelcome sense of loyalty to Shepherd for helping him rise through the ranks of the Marines and enabling him to set up Shadow Company at all. 

Even though since the day he’d met Lauren, that instinct that had his hackles raising and his fangs itching around Shepherd had only gotten stronger. He’d never found anything concrete enough beyond just - bad fucking vibes. Nothing he felt could justify shutting Shepherd out. 

But Lauren only had to suggest that Laswell, being outside the military structure and technically outranking Shepherd when push came to shove since the CIA was far less rigidly regulated than the military, was the smarter bet, and the safer bet, and he’d made the switch without another blink. 

Lauren knew every corner of him and Shadow Company, and held it in her cute little manicured hands like treasure. 

And Graves was losing his mind trying to pretend to be a gentleman. 

Honestly he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out without just pouncing on her one day when she flounced into his office with a wide, pretty smile and a sweet ‘Good morning, Phillip’. 

The alpha’s urges got stronger every day, the beast roaring that he was a coward, he was just asking for some other fucking alpha to come in and try to take what was his, his, his- 

So the plan had to evolve. 

He didn’t bother starting small, not after the disaster of the Fourth of July barbecue that jolted him into an early rut and poor Lauren into an early false heat. 

For a too-long, too-infuriating week he’d been locked into the rut rooms at SCHQ, snarling and ripping the place apart while his cock drooled unfulfilled between his legs, knot throbbing unhappily. Any time the meal slot had been opened he’d made a dive for it, claws out and roaring demands for Lauren. 

His poor Shadows had to spray him with bear spray every goddamn time. 

Good men, defending their mama, no matter how enraged he’d been at the time. 

Still, the experience had proved Graves had to take Lauren with a much firmer hand. He’d given her the opportunity to make the right decision for herself and take him up on his flirting and his courting offers, and she’d shied away for the sake of ‘professionalism’. 

Graves would have to do the right thing for her. So he would. 

The plan in essence was simple: fuck with her suppressants, build up the courting behavior by careful degrees in the exact order that would most discourage her from speaking up to tell him to stop until it was far too late to reject him without humiliating herself (something his poor sweet little omega couldn’t stand to do, not with an alpha like him, thanks to a billion years of evolutionary instincts), and then swoop in when her suppressants failed and she was left ripe for the mating. 

It would take two months for the suppressants to fully clear from her system, for her to be able to have a real heat, a full heat. 

He’d already waited two years, he could manage another two months. 

Tampering with her prescription was stupid simple. Samuels had the replacement of fake pills from SC’s Research & Development team (triple tested and certified safe) ready to go, and all it took was a ‘surprise’ overnighter to have Lauren help him go over the details of a new contract with an operation in Istanbul to keep her distracted and off her normal schedule while Samuels broke into her pharmacy and made the switch. She picked it up the next day on her way home from work, none the wiser. 

And since it would be two months before her system cleared and her suppressants ‘failed’, Graves took that time to lay the right groundwork. Something he thoroughly enjoyed. 

It started with casual touches. Little things that couldn’t be brought up without making his sweet omega sound crazy. Smoothing his hand over her shoulder, letting it fall to her lower back to get her attention, cupping her chin briefly while talking to her a mile a minute, tucking her hair behind her ears with just a hint of claw tracing the tender shell light enough it would leave her wondering if she’d imagined it. 

He got bolder with it than that after a bit, leaving his hand on her lower back when they walked, pressed firm and steady to guide her where he wanted her, or even his hands on her waist, standing behind her on elevators or escalators, just a little too tight to be casual or subconscious touching. 

Each touch left a little of his scent on her, bonfire smoke and the smell of freshly baled hay like a broiling Texan summer evening. And she never scrubbed it off. Never stopped him when he let his fingers find the guard collar over the glands on her neck that she only wore for when other alphas visited Shadow Company (never around him, the wanton little omega inside her unable to stomach the implication of trying to keep his teeth out of her neck, god such a good fucking omega for him), and she’d just stand there and leak slick when he’d tap the stainless steel caps that covered her scent glands lightly with a smirk as he said he just wanted to make sure it was on securely. 

She knew he was marking her, her texts with her best friend (who he’d arranged to have conveniently hired right out of graduation, through a contact of his in DC so she’d have someone close that he could keep watch over, and wouldn’t get too lonely when he was in the field) got increasingly guilt tinged as she bemoaned that she fucking liked it. 

The best friend won big points with Graves for shamelessly encouraging her to just let him knot her. 

But Lauren, for some godforsaken reason, seemed to think that if she did it would be a mark against her honor or something. Kept going on about how it wasn’t ‘right’ for her to have sex with her boss, how it wasn’t ‘professional’, how ‘important’ her job was to her. 

Seriously, her being actually so good at her work was making the whole plan to keep her barefoot and pregnant at home seem increasingly unlikely and increasingly unacceptable to him. 

By then, the thought of anyone else even trying to do Lauren’s job, to take her position and place at Shadow Company (the Shadows’ fucking mama for god’s sake) had his shoulders rolling and a growl rumbling in his chest. No. He’d have to make some readjustments and figure out a new balance to strike for when he got his claim on her. 

Even though she knew he was marking her and liking it, finally admitting as much in a desperate midday text to her best friend (right after Graves had swept his palm over her bare scent gland and told her what a ‘good girl’ she was for her work preparing a presentation for him), she thought that somehow he was just a flirt. That he didn’t mean it.  

He fumed in his office, temper boiling hot as he struggled to keep himself seated, to stop himself from rearing up and closing the distance between them to lay her down on her goddamn desk and fuck her raw where anyone and everyone could see how much he did mean it. 

So he’d had to step it up. 

Just faint, bitch-ass touches like that weren’t going to be enough to prime her for what he had planned, anyway. Not when his omega was being so stubborn. 

Gift giving came next. 

He’d always flirted with mate-courtship rituals with her since she’d been employed, carefully toeing the line between things that made him look like he was just a normal, thoughtful boss and an alpha hunting a mate. 

The gifts got more blatant, less easily explained away by the ‘proper’ rules of such things. 

He went from buying her lunch every day (and dinner/snacks/coffee during overnighters) to arranging for a private chef to prepare her every meal for her. Rich, decadent meals, and he completely ignored her protests that she wasn’t a starving Victorian child, he was spoiling her terribly. 

‘Good. Want you spoiled, baby. Company perk as my best girl, sugar. Gotta keep you well rewarded for all the hard work you do, honey, don’t think I don’t appreciate it.’  

After that was the car. Nothing too flashy or too high powered it’d scare the holy hell out of her every time she even breathed near the gas pedal. A Rolls Royce in a custom pearl white, custom creamy calf leather interior, with every goddamn safety and luxury upgrade they offered. Presented to her with a baby pink bow on the hood after a day she’d worked herself so hard the poor thing had cried. 

(He only felt a little guilty about arranging that kind of pressure cooker on her, but she’d have rejected the gift if he hadn’t done it that way.) 

‘You do so fucking much for me, honey, you know you do. Work so goddamn hard and you’re so fucking good at it…I had to, sugar, had to give you something back. Be good for me and let me, yeah?’ 

Next was a new guard collar, gold and designed to protect her scent glands from an unwelcome bite but to still show them off. A more decorative and borderline scandalous version of the one she’d already had. 

Scandalous because if one looked very closely at the filigree, when viewed from the inside or through a mirror it was plain that the filigree was just his initials woven in gold to cover her scent glands, soaking in that sweet melon and sea scent rather than dispelling it like the traditional stainless steel. 

‘My job to take care of you, make sure you’re protected from these knotheads, honey. I take that job real fucking serious, you know that. Gotta let me, sugar, or I don’t know what I’ll do.’  

In older eras, the gift of a guard collar was as much of a declaration as one could make. The step right before an official claim bite. The meaning had softened some since then, and use of the protective measures like a guard collar had largely gone out of style as traditional bite-mating faded out of use as well, but it still was nowhere near a casual or meaningless gift. 

Lauren’s dark eyes were wide as he put it on her, her breath catching, melon and sea spray scent hot like summer as her slick dripped into her skimpy little thong beneath her short fucking skirt as he touched his thumb to the biometric lock, and it chimed prettily, accepting his scan. 

Dark eyes met his, but that candy pink mouth didn’t protest even though he recognized the flash of shocked understanding there. The collar would only lock, and thus unlock, for him. Not for any other omega, beta, or alpha, not even for her. Just Graves. 

She’d licked her lips, swallowed hard and thanked him. Thanked him, quiet and breathless, his good fucking girl, so goddamn sweet just for him, all his, all his, all his. 

Finally came the big guns. 

Real scent marking. 

He started with a blanket from home saturated with his scent. Nothing dirty like an item of clothing he’d worn during pre-rut, at least not to start, it was just a blanket he’d had for years that had been in his den long enough for his scent to carry the bonfire/fresh hay between the threads and in the stitching. 

He was working her harder than usual in the lead up to this, though he was extra sweet to her to make up for it and keep her reeled in close, and so during another ‘surprise’ overnighter he dropped the blanket unceremoniously over her shoulders. 

With the edges bundled up right over her bare throat. 

‘Drafty in this damn old barn, sugar, don’t want that fucking air conditioner to give a sweet thing like you a cold, now do we, honey? You ain’t gotta worry about a thing, though, I’ll take good care of you, don’t I always?’ 

She’d cuddled up with it nice enough, let herself soak in his scent like she was lounging in a hot tub, but had made a big stink about giving it back to him rather than keeping it. 

A few days later, he upped the ante and gave her one of his hoodies. An old one, from a few logos ago in the Longhorn’s history, the orange faded and the cuffs threadbare, the string in the stretched out hood entirely gone. And again - totally saturated in his scent. 

Not just an old, worn in, osmosis kind of scent carriage either. But fresh layers on the fabric, too. He’d worn it the night before, a hand working his knot while he watched Lauren picking out her clothes for the next day, still naked and wet from her shower, skimpy towel slipping off of her plump, rounded body. 

He hadn’t cum on the fabric, not directly, just let the hoodie soak up the scent of his arousal, his sweat, his need, the faintest teasing curl of his cum clinging to the edges of the hoodie. 

And if he could smell it, it would be intoxicating to Lauren. 

He’d pretended to not be watching her when he handed it to her in the chill of his office, DC long gone dark beyond the ceiling to floor windows of his windows affording him a perfect view of the city. 

‘Here, sugar, forgot that blanket at home. This should work to keep you warm, pretty girl. What’re you balking for, honey, you ain’t an Aggie fan, are ya? No? Then be good and put it on, sugar. Go on now, you heard me.’ 

She’d sat there, trembling, wide eyed, leaking slick and the scent of hot melon saltwater taffy everywhere. And then, she’d obeyed. Pulled it on over her head. When her face emerged into the hood her lids were heavy and hanging low, already drowsy, the scent of her slick getting worse by the minute. 

Her arms wrapped around herself and for a full three minutes he just sat and greedily watched her bask, wrapped up in her alphas scent. 

Scenting her like that, basically drugging her with it was a dick move, bullying her into it even more so, but he didn’t fucking care, not when it got him that, her purring soft and sweet into the collar, manicured fingers twisted tight in the cuffs, arousal and heat pouring off of her. 

Eventually she managed to clear her head, sitting up and trying to blink away the omegan need turning her gaze glassy and knot-dumb. 

Graves didn’t even pretend to not be paying attention, loving the hot flush on her cheeks when she met his gaze. 

‘Ya look so fucking pretty, honey. Don’t tell ya nearly enough, do I? Need to be better about that, sugar, don’t let me slip. Wear my clothes so good, don’tcha? Like they were made for ya, baby, ain’t they?’ 

Winking, he’d left her to flounder for a reply. 

She wore the hoodie home, and he watched her security cameras to see her not even able to make it to her bedroom, falling down against the wall in her hallway with her graceful hand stuffed between plush thighs, furiously rubbing the cuff of one sleeve against her cunt, whimpering his name mixed with ‘Alpha, alpha, alpha, please,’. 

That video got saved to the folder with her false heat. 

He’d always been tactile with her, dropping kisses on the top of her head or her temple. He did it more often now, and not just on those places, but also on her cheek, the bolt of her jaw, the crest of her ears when her hair was swept back or tucked behind them. 

His hands brushed over her body every fucking opportunity he found, just a little too firm, or a little too close to the vulnerable nape of her neck, or lingering a little too long. 

He let a select few of the things he used to carefully keep in his head and locked behind his tongue start to slip. 

‘Like that dress, honey. Pink’s so pretty on you, baby, makes you look like a fucking dream.’ 

‘You smell good, sugar. Like fucking candy, always so sweet. Know how good it makes me feel to walk in this office and smell that?’ 

‘I like you with your hair down, baby. Looks so soft. Stay still, sugar, no, don’t say nothing, be good for me, behave, just lemme - fuck, yeah, knew it’d be soft, angel. You’re my soft girl, honey, aren’tcha? So sweet like fucking sugar.’ 

‘That presentation you made was perfect, baby. Went off without a hitch. Almost pisses me off those knotheads were too busy staring at you outside the conference room to appreciate how good it was. I know they scare you honey, but that’s what you have me for, you know that. I’d never let nothing happen to you, sugar. I take good care of my best girl, don’t I?’ 

At first these comments made her squeak, blush bright crimson, and flounder for the quickest excuse to find refuge at her little desk outside his office. 

But the more he made them, the bigger the cracks in her armor became, until even when she retreated she was pressing her thighs together at her desk trying to find some relief in the pressure, in the scrape of lace over her clit, but they both knew the only release she’d get would be with Graves’ fat knot stuffing that virgin cunt full. 

He could feel her teetering, could feel her will beginning to fray, but he wanted to be absolutely certain. 

Needed it to be without question that she trusted him beyond anything else. 

So he gave Samuels a new job. 

The poor man’s brand new beta (he’d made a habit of popping a bottle of Dom for the Shadows when any of them got mated, Samuels had been no exception when he’d mated just a month after coming back to DC for good) was on emergency deployment as a medic for one of their ops, so Samuels had begged for an extra outlet rather than destroy their den in his anxiety, one Graves was only too happy to provide. 

He tasked Samuels to return to shadowing Lauren full time, and this time to make it visible. Intimidating, escalating, the works. 

A hooded figure watching her from the mouth of an alley on her daily jog at dawn. Following her through the evening farmer’s market. Showing up in the shadows at the corners of parking lots, and from a different car every time on the same level of a parking garage for her favorite little downtown area of boutiques and her spa that she visited every weekend. 

Lauren noticed first thing, his good girl, his careful, obedient little omega. Took extra precautions, borrowing a stun gun from the armory, asking Graves shyly if he’d please put her guard collar on before she went home every night, finally accepting his offers to walk her to and from her car every day, moving her jogs to her building’s gym, calling him ‘just to chat’ when she was out alone anywhere. 

It was good, but not enough. 

Graves needed one last push to scare her into turning to him fully. He was toying with the idea of a note from her ‘stalker’ under her door that would have her running to Graves, teary eyed and needy, to protect her. 

Appealing to her alpha for help and safety, which he’d be only too happy to provide at the low price of her taking his knot and his claim. 

They were closing in on the two month mark. Biology differed person to person, situation to situation, and often suppressants left an omega’s system quicker if they had an alpha engaging in courting rituals stirring up their instincts (check), or if they were stressed (again, check). 

Graves had notified Laswell he’d likely be unavailable in person for a couple months back when he was starting the whole process, hinting he was preparing to bond, and she’d taken it with a nod like any other piece of information he’d given her, congratulating him with a stone-faced smile he thought was hilarious. 

He knew she had an omega of her own at home, and being the sort of commanding beta she was she obviously understood the hard work that went into taking proper care of them. She got it without him having to spell it out. 

And actually she’d made a strange comment about his absence opening up a ‘perfect opportunity’ for the 141 that, if he actually read into what she said he might have laughed for days about how great minds thought alike. 

So work was covered, his Shadows knowing without having to be told that Graves was close to getting his fangs in their mama’s pretty neck. They were good men, even the biggest knothead alpha on his payroll didn’t let his eyes linger too long on Lauren. They were loyal to their bones to their commander, and they knew who she belonged to even if she was pretending not to. 

Lauren herself was ready to buckle and give in, it would just take one last push, he was sure, but it had to be the exact right one. He had to run all the scenarios in his mind, weigh the risks and rewards properly. Too much was at stake to fuck this up now. 

He soothed the pressure on himself (the impatient slavering beast in the back of his head starving for a hot, slick cunt to sink his knot into, a pretty neck to sink his fangs into) by reminding himself he could always drug her, mark her, and tell her when she woke up that he’d saved her from a omega smuggling ring. 

SC actually had a whole division for hunting those down, contracted through the United Nations. Lauren had helped him organize their terms for the contract to send to legal in her first month. 

It wouldn’t be out of the question as a sequence of events at all. 

And no harm would have actually come to her, so. No harm no foul. He’d be able to talk her round in a couple days he was sure if everything else fell through and he had to take that route. 

The last two months he’d mostly been going through the motions while at work. How Lauren thought he’d be able to get anything accomplished with her sitting out there getting hotter and more fertile and needy by the day was baffling. 

Most of what he did during the days when not training his Shadows or keeping up with the barest amount of meetings and corporate fucking nonsense was watch Lauren and plot. 

Also messing around with the plans for the house he wanted to build for them and the pups he’d breed her full of, but working on that just made him horny, and he was at work. 

He wasn’t so much of an animal that he’d take her virginity on the cold marble of his office fucking floor. 

Famous last words. 

-

It was a fucking Wednesday. 

A normal, purely fucking average Wednesday just like all the other Wednesdays that had come before it. 

He’d walked into the building at 6:02 am, got in some morning combat drills with some Shadows until eight when he showered in his private suite and got dressed for the day while reviewing Lauren’s careful, detailed hand-printed notes in her bubble letter handwriting about a potential contact for expanding operations of SC by planting a few discreet bases for the Shadows in strategic areas over the globe. 

By eight thirty he’d had her observations and recommendations memorized (exactly in line with his thinking, if a little conservative, his tender hearted omega liked playing by the rules and asking permission), and he’d been there in the parking garage waiting for Lauren to pull in her customary half hour early in the car he’d bought her so he could open her door and help her out. 

She blushed and smiled the same as always. “Good morning, Phillip.” 

And he grinned, inhaling the scent of melon and sea salt so deep he could taste it. “Mornin’, sugar. You look so pretty today, honey, you break my heart.” 

That blush only got worse, and he stepped in close, keeping her still with a hand on her rounded waist as he shut her car door after picking up her bags to carry for her. 

As customary she tried to protest. “You really don’t have to, Phillip I’m supposed to be your assistant-” 

‘Oh c’mon, baby, I ain’t so old I can’t carry your little work bag and my own damn breakfast.” He chuckled, kissing her temple, squeezing her waist, leaving his scent on her side by brushing up against her. “Be a good girl and humor me, sugar, have a little heart.” 

“…oh alright,” she relented breathlessly, brushing nervous hands over her dress as her scent heated. 

He’d walked her inside, just like normal, letting her calm herself down by babbling about work, just like normal, and at least paid half attention to it. She always had something of worth to say. 

Lauren’d brought him his coffee and a high protein breakfast for him to eat before their standing conference call with Legal about developments in contract negotiations (so many fucking steps to these goddamn things it was actually insane, the legalities were fucking stupid), and he had something sweet, a blueberry and lemon muffin today, waiting for her in his office. 

He let her direct the conversation to the day’s agenda for a good ten minutes but he couldn’t hardly pay attention, too consumed with watching the healthy pink flush on her face, the shine of her glossy perfectly curled hair as she moved it over a rounded shoulder, the swell of her mouth - was it his imagination or had her mouth gotten poutier somehow? 

Since replacing her suppressants, she’d seemed like she was fucking glowing or something, like her body knew that this was how she was supposed to be, sweet and fertile and ready for her alpha to breed and knot at his goddamn leisure. 

Not even the stress of her ‘stalker’ seemed to dim it, especially not when Graves was constantly telling her low and sweet how pretty she looked and making her blush and duck her head, biting her lip like it was a brand new piece of information even though he told her every damn day. 

Her scent was stronger too…sweeter. As a baseline, it had gotten thicker, headier. 

Several times now over the last week he’d had to resist the instinct to drop his head into her neck and lick over the glands he swore swelled a little when he stood too close or put a firm hand on her lower back. 

She was so fucking close to giving in he could taste it on his tongue. 

But she had to make the first move, the only way to assure she’d never have any reason to question anything about their relationship. 

Or, perhaps more accurately, the only way he could soothe his own pride after pouring two whole goddamn years into just getting this far. 

Was it too much to arrange for her to make the ‘first’ move? Make her grateful that he’d accepted her begging, pitiful pleas to make her his omega? 

He just wanted her to be grateful. That was all. 

Hubris, as it were, came before the fall. 

The day proceeded as normal, same boring fucking corporate bullshit meetings that should be emails that his finance and HR departments refused to leave him out of or just make emails, and more bearable were the same training drill observations with the Shadows. Stepping in where he saw the opportunity to correct them, patting them on the backs and shoulder, rapping on their helmets and calling praise and orders to answered ‘yup yup!’s same as always. 

Same lunch as always, even, with Lauren on the other side of his desk talking about messages he’d gotten in the last four hours while he chided her to eat more of her pasta- 

‘Come on sugar, just another couple bites, I work you so hard, honey, just let me make sure you’re well fed yeah? Don’t give me that look or I’ll put you over my knee, don’t think I won’t, sweetheart. Be good for me now, go on, do as you’re told.’ 

Just like normal he left her horny, flushed, confused and probably stuffed full (but not in the way either of them would like most, unfortunately) while he went to go at least pretend to read through some paperwork and respond to a few idiotic emails. 

Everything was fine, normal, expected as he went back to work after their shared lunch. 

At first. 

Then something shifted at exactly 2:12. 

Something…itched. 

A burr under his metaphorical saddle, a splinter under his skin between his shoulder blades, a clench in his gut he’d only ever gotten before the whistle of a mortar sounded in the air. 

Something was wrong. 

He glanced up from where he’d been skimming through an update from Laswell about the 141 being ‘out of commission’ for a good month and a half in preparation for a return to Urzikstan she expected Graves on the ground for as well. 

Out in front of his office was Lauren’s desk, visible through the floor to ceiling glass partition. The fresh bouquet he’d given her just on Monday was sitting in pride of place, Lauren sitting where she belonged in her sweet little tight skirt and crisp white button down, dark hair swept up in the heat brought on by the strong afternoon sunlight pouring in through the huge windows. 

But what didn’t belong was the tension humming through her ample body, tightening her shoulders and the sweet line of her back. The tight, protective curl of her elegant hands into fists, one inching ever closer to the Coach purse she’d bought herself with her first bonus (that cost a fraction of what he’d given her, he was going to teach his girl what it meant to spoil herself if it killed him). 

What really didn’t fucking belong in the atrium of the executive suites, hounding his PA, was General Herschel fucking Shepherd. 

Graves was standing, stalking to the door without conscious thought. His forebrain with the plans and the careful manipulations and the lethal cunning was gone, replaced by the alpha beast who was watching an intruder intimidate his fucking omega. 

He’d already decided to kill Shepherd before the man even reached out and put his hand on Lauren’s vulnerable nape with a sick smile on his face. 

Alpha pheromones and the scent of frightened omega were thick in the air when he crashed through his office doors, sending glass flying everywhere, fangs drooling as he roared a challenge loud enough to shake the goddamn foundations of his own fucking building, any kind of warning be damned, claws reaching for Shepherd’s smug fucking face. 

The sick oily creep of Shepherd’s pheromones and Lauren’s fear was all he could smell. 

Higher thought just sort of. 

Vanished. 

All he knew was - 

Threat. 

Rival. 

Scared her. 

Touched her. 

Blood. 

Blood. 

Blood. 

Some undetermined amount of time later, a cool, shaky hand gently pressed against his shoulder. 

He froze, fist halfway down in a vicious punch. 

The red mist of rage began to thin, and he slowly became more aware of things. 

First, Shepherd was unconscious, face damn near caved in from Graves’ fist. If Shepherd had gotten a hit in, Graves didn’t feel it. His chest was heaving, his limbs burning with exertion. 

Blood coated his fists, sprayed finely over his face. 

His body was fire-hot head to toe, only relieved where Lauren (had to be her, had to be, could smell her melon-sea scent still soured by fear but getting sweeter again) had her on his shoulder, fingers cool through the thin fabric of his dress shirt. 

“Ph- …alpha,” she whispered, voice cashmere soft. “Will you get up?” 

Alpha. 

The animal inside of him preened, relenting. For the moment. It was good and right for her to call him that. 

To ask him so sweet, submissive and pretty. Even if she knew he’d always give her what she wanted, what she needed. 

He let Shepherd fall to the ground, his other hand unclenching from the grip he’d had on the lapel of the other alpha’s dress uniform. 

Chest still working hard like bellows feeding his internal fire, he stood, slowly, by degrees, never taking his eyes off of Shepherd, keeping his body in between the other alpha and Lauren like he was somehow magically still a threat as he let Lauren gently pull him with a grip on the back of his now ripped and bloodied dress shirt toward his office. 

A new scent emerged over all the blood, over the smell of Graves’ rage and Lauren’s fear (and something…sweeter, fuck, fuck, fuck) that had Graves tensing all over again, snarling slick and sick. 

It was Oz, calm and level-headed, unmoving. 

Seeing the beta helped clear his head, but not as much as the sweet nothings, the pretty pleas Lauren was giving his back, rubbing his tensed muscles, trying to appease her alpha but keeping careful mind not to overstep or even let her hands be visible to the new interloper. 

Graves swallowed, forcing the animal back far enough to get some fucking words out. “Clear the floor. Get out. Stay out.”  

The last two words were snarled, growling clicking threateningly in his chest, echoing off the too silent walls of the atrium. 

Oz nodded once. “Commander.” 

Graves backed Lauren through the smashed glass doors of his office, the glitter of the shards over marble scattering under their feet. But those doors were just for show. When they were inside, he used the margin of control he’d wrangled back to press the hidden button in the wainscoting, and it beeped, reading his thumbprint. 

Lockdown doors rolled down from the ceiling, covering the door and all the windows, sealing off his entire suite. From one large wall that he’d hung some overpriced modern art on swung down a couple panels. One for supplies - medical, arms and munitions, non perishable food, water. 

And one for a bed, just barely big enough to fit Graves himself. But hey, he’d never anticipated this being the place he mated his omega. 

Lauren, cause she was a good fucking girl, only sighed when the lockdown settled with some ominous clicks and beeps. Light still poured in through the now much smaller windows, but it was dimmer from the one-way glass he’d installed, so they could see out but no one could see in, and the front view of his office that had awarded him his perfect view of Lauren and her desk at all times was covered with material they’d reverse engineered to be missile-proof. 

They were alone. Completely and totally alone. 

His sweet little omega was locked in a room with a beast and there was relief blowing cool and sweet through her scent, chasing away the sour tinge of fear and the wrong kind of salt, the tears kind of salt. 

He felt her body go lax, slumping toward him as she laid her forehead on his still tense back. 

“That…that was scary.” 

With the world safely locked away, and Lauren safely locked in with him, Graves was free to turn, hauling her into his arms, burying his face into her neck, growling unhappily when he found the faintest trace of Shepherd’s metal and soil scent trying to cling to her. 

A few scruffs from his five-o’clock shadow took care of that, and she smelled much better when she smelled like him. 

His growling softened, but didn’t silence, just morphed to something he’d deny was anything like a purr when his head was clear again. 

But for the moment, when he was still fucking burning head to toe, every muscle aching for some goddamn relief that’d been two fucking years in the making - he couldn’t think straight. 

“Y’alright sugar?” His voice was trying to be sweet, but it sounded twisted, like a clawed hand lashing out from a dark corner to latch on to her soft little body. “Did he scruff you?” 

“No,” she sniffled, hands cupping his head, framing the back of his skull, carding gentle fingers through his hair, his perfect little omega content to dangle there where he held her tight to his chest, arms corded around her back. “No, he — he didn’t get that far.” 

Scruffing an omega made them go limp, and if done hard enough by an alpha wielding pheromones like a weapon the way Shepherd had to have been to soak the whole fucking atrium with his goddamn scent like that - it could make an omega fucking catatonic. Completely unaware and unable to fight back, unable to speak. 

The idea had his body trembling, his temperature climbing again. 

Lauren’s hands didn’t falter. “Alpha,” she started sweetly. “I think -  I think you might, uh, you might be-” 

“Rutting,” he answered through gritted teeth, burying his face deeper into her neck. He knew the signs. Knew what this feeling of a wild itch beneath his skin and in his gums, the unbelievable heat gathering as his knot thobbed and started to fill, sweat already coating his body. 

But he couldn’t be fucked with himself when Lauren was in his arms like this. She was softer than he’d dreamed she’d be, her perfect body had so much give and plush fat to it and it made him almost want to whine. “God, you’re so fucking sweet, sugar, like watermelon fucking candy just coming off the goddamn stove, does your slick taste that fucking sweet too? Or do ya taste like a fruity cocktail drunk on the beach, like ya’ve been rimmed with salt from the sea?” 

She whimpered, quietly. 

And then he smelled it. 

A fresh wave of heat slick. 

He’d smelled her get aroused around him before, had been the reason for her pussy getting slick and puffy beneath her skirts, dripping into her panties. 

But not like this. 

This was boiling sugar, like melons on the vine ripe enough to fucking burst, like actually having sex on the beach with the sand and salt crusting to your sweaty skin. 

He knew what this was. What it meant. 

Confirmation. 

Victory. 

Finally. 

“You’re in heat,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling up. 

Finally. 

“I know,” Lauren panted, arching her neck to give him more room, that slick-heat-need scent getting stronger. “I don’t…uhn, I don’t understa-ah!” 

“Shh,” he crooned, moving her over to the bed, knowing it could take the abuse he was about to put it through, even if it really wasn’t big enough for this, he could make it work, and it’d be more comfortable for Lauren to lose her virginity on a bed no matter how cramped than on the goddamn floor. “Lemme take care of you, sugar. S’my fucking job honey, fuck, god, gotta get that fucking slick on my goddamn tongue or I’ll lose my fucking mind-” 

“Alpha!”  

He froze, pulling away from her just enough to meet her eyes. 

God, please, give him the strength to talk her round, give him the fucking brain cells to keep the animal in him from just convincing her with the weight of his cock when her her heat hit in full. 

She didn’t look all that scared though. More like she was trying to remember something…or how she wanted to say something, from the way she started and abandoned a sentence a few times before just blurting out- 

“Do you love me?” 

The words were soft. Needy. Tears gathered in dark, glassy eyes. “I c-couldn’t stand it if you j-just wanted - just wanted to-” 

He caught her fumbling mouth in a kiss, swallowing the nasty thought before it could spill onto the floor between them and leave a foul taste on her tongue. 

“Course I fucking love you,” he told her, hands tight on her waist holding on for dear life to keep himself from reaching for something else he shouldn’t be touching at that moment. “Fell in love with you the first fucking second I saw your picture. Spent all that time trying to get you to fall in love back, thanks for noticing, sugar.” 

His teasing didn’t land. A soft hiccup escaped her, and he pulled back again to see a few tears roll down her face. Relief, again, thankfully. 

“I noticed,” she promised as he caught the tears with his thumbs, rumbling soothing noises deep in his chest. “I fell in love then too. You take such good care of me…ruined me for everyone else, alpha, could never want anyone but you.” 

The rumble in his chest revved louder, his eyes flashing, cock throbbing in his slacks. “Good girl,” he praised, thick and dark. “My good fucking omega, sugar, that’s what you are.” 

She shivered, and he could taste the wave of slick gush from her cunt as her eyes rolled back briefly. “Please, alpha,” she begged, looking at him through her lashes, baring her neck, showing off her swollen scent gland. “Want you to claim me.” 

Another jolt, the temperature in his body raising once more as the words alone, the wanton position spread out on rough cotton sheets in his goddamn office pulled him deeper into rut. 

“Gonna give it to ya, promise, honey, you just lay there and take this knot.” He tugged out the tie holding her hair back, groaning when it spilled free glossy and dark over the rough sheets on the too small bed. 

Her eyes were nearly entirely black, glazed with heat-drunk lust as she moved restlessly beneath him, making pretty, sweet little cooing and mewling noises as he tugged off her clothes. He’d taken care not to rip them (much), though he wasn’t nearly as considerate for his own clothes. 

A growl vibrated his gritted teeth as he pulled off her shirt and exposed her tits, cupped in perfect, virginal white lace. 

“Pretty, pretty, pretty,” he crooned, claws gently running over the peaks and making her back arch, a beautiful, addictive, needy sound spilling out from between her lips. 

One claw beneath the band, and it snapped. He flung the lace aside. She’d never be able to wear white again after this, so why should he keep it nice? 

The flimsy, scant little scrap of white lace covering her cunt got similar treatment, though he raised the sopping fabric to his face first, eyes rolling back in his head and knot pulsing painfully as he sucked her slick from the fabric. 

Just like hot watermelon saltwater taffy. Like blood, too, a little, like in the way that a properly rare steak was, so the juice just made you hungrier. 

“Alpha,” she moaned, little claws biting into his sides, trying to tug him down to cover her body. “S-stop that.” 

He groaned, looking over her head to toe. He wanted to memorize this. The taste of her heat slick thick as molasses on his tongue as he sucked on her lace panties, her laying spread out beneath him completely naked, scent glands swollen, heavy tits blushed and straining, and that perfect, needy, fertile fucking virgin cunt peeking from between round spread thighs. 

“Can smell it,” he rasped, dropping the panties, his hands fitting around her hips, pinning her down to the bed as he lowered himself down so he could get a proper look. “Fuck, look at her. So fucking small, darlin’. Y’never put anything inside this pretty thing?” 

A whine was her only reply as he buried his mouth against her, lapping right from the source. 

His knees buckled, vision spotting and he growled against her cunt, yanking her closer to lick deeper. She was so fucking sweet. So goddamn motherfucking sweet, and she, she even - 

“Y’even taste tight,” he grunted against her clit as he met her burning gaze, looking down the length of her soft body. “This poor girl. She’s been needing me, ain’t she? N’you’ve been keeping her from me, omega.” 

Tears clumped her lashes together, puffy lips pursed in a pout as she babbled, “A-alpha-” 

“This sweet fucking cunt’s been empty, ain’t she?” He rubbed his chin against her, watching greedily as her body spasmed, her eyes rolling back. “N’you kept it from your alpha. Ain’t that selfish, darlin’? Ain’t that cruel?” 

“M’sorry, alpha,” she stammered through her tears. 

Almost mockingly he shushed her, still rubbing her clit with his chin, his mouth, lapping up her dripping slit, hands bruising her hips as he kept her still. “Sorry ain’t enough, darlin’. Gotta teach you a lesson so y’never do it again, hear?” 

He wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking a little, making her shriek, the sound just edging over to animal before he pulled back and said, the words vibrating her clit, “Gonna have ya cum once on my tongue. Gotta make ya cum empty first, s’punishment.” 

She whimpered, more tears spilling free, but her cunt still dripped, her thighs shaking. She was already so close. 

“And then,” he soothed, kissing her sticky inner thighs, scraping fangs lightly on the tender skin there. He’d leave proper marks, maybe even a few scars some day. But not today. “Then I’ll give you your alpha’s fat fucking knot. Give you a bite on that pretty neck so everyone knows you belong to me, darlin’.” 

“Yes!” She tried to buck her hips, blind and mindless. She was deep in heat, deep enough that it was flirting with criminal territory to only now bring up marking her so permanently. But that was the point. 

Everything he’d done, all this time he’d put into getting her here, to this moment, it had finally paid off. Now she was so needy and heat-blind she was operating on instinct alone, instinct to please her alpha, instinct to get fucked, to be mated. 

She thrashed on the bed, nails raking at his forearms, scratching him up like a naughty cat as half-formed, mindless pleas poured out of her mouth. “Need your knot, alpha, need you to bite me, need it so bad, please please please!” 

He didn’t bother answering her verbally. Just fixed his mouth around her clit and sucked. Hard. Rubbed back and forth and in circles with his tongue over that tight, sensitive bud, watching and listening to every little move she made, every sound that came out of her, finding what she liked best and shoving his foot down on the gas on each of them until she finally just - shattered. 

Slick spilled out from her clenching, still untouched little hole as she screamed, every muscle in her body locking up tight, back bowed, dark hair wild beneath her as he just kept sucking and licking her clit to get her through it. 

And with every pulse of her cunt he felt an answering one in his cock, his knot painfully swollen, hips moving in soft, faint little ruts as he fought to keep control rather than give in to the rut. 

Not yet. Not yet. He’d rut her wild all next week without a care for comfort or consideration, because by then she’d be mated and his pleasure would be her pleasure, and her pleasure would be his pleasure. He wouldn’t have to be as careful then. 

But for now? No, now he had to do it right, make her cum like a good girl on his fat knot as he filled her with his cum. 

He’d meant to keep talking, both as a way to reassure her it was still him, aware and in control, and to keep himself somewhat sane. But then one of her little claws actually drew blood. 

One fine lined scratch down his arm. 

Next thing he knew he had her on her stomach, ass up high and held in place by his hands as he knelt on the narrow bed, the fat tip of his cock notched against her pussy. 

She was trembling. But her scent didn’t have a single whisper of fear or doubt. Just that boiling sugar of heat slick need, watermelon and sea salt slick still coating his tongue, his chin, his cheeks. 

He moved one hand, smoothing his palm over her round ass, up the line of her spine that he’d admired do long from his desk chair. 

Until he settled it on the back of her neck. 

Not squeezing. 

Just holding. 

Threatening. 

She whimpered, her pussy clenching down desperately around nothing. “Please alpha,” she begged, the words clouded and almost indistinguishable through her tears. “Please, please, please, please!” 

He pressed his palm down on the nape of her neck, fingers curling around the vulnerable spot there perfectly sized for him to squeeze her right there, just like this, just for him alone to make her mind go blank and her back arch high, cutting her off mid-word as he shoved his hips forward. 

The fragile barrier of her hymen popped, so completely he would’ve sworn he heard it, as he shoved deep into her tight, overwhelming heat, a too loud snarl as he bared his fangs, covering her back with his body. 

Mine. 

God she was unbelievable. The tight, tight stretch of her cunt squeezing and spasming as his fat knot threatened around the tight ring of her entrance, her soft body throbbing beneath his, plush and hot and sweet. That scent of hot watermelon candy and the salt of her slick still on his tongue as his mouth watered. 

Perfect. 

That was what she was, fucking perfect. 

Words were totally beyond him. 

He wanted to tell her how good she felt on his cock, how good she was being to squeeze down so tight he had to punch his hips hard to fuck her properly, her thighs shaking before she’d even taken half a dozen thrusts. 

To tell her how soft and pretty she was like this, his own perfect little omega all cock hungry, so dumbed down just from getting fucked that she couldn’t even properly speak any more. 

How perfect she was to cum, screaming for her alpha, gushing slight around his knot, walls fluttering as she begged and mewled so prettily for a knot to plug her up and breed her full. 

Mine. 

But he couldn’t get the words out. All that came out was animalistic vocalizations in varying volume as he fucked her the way he’d wanted to for years. 

And godfuckingdammit but he didn’t want this to end, either. He’d only take her virginity once, and he was going to fucking enjoy it. Wanted to exact his revenge, just once, for her making him wait this long for what he’d always owned. 

He’d be sweet to her the rest of their lives, but for once, just for right now, he wanted to be mean. 

So he ignored her clawing up the mattress and the pitiful omega whines getting wetter and the tang of salt getting stronger in the air as she started crying, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she went unfulfilled, her heat unanswered. 

The two of them were burning up, feeding into one another’s hormones, fanning inner flames higher and higher and it was fucking addictive. 

This was all she’d ever needed, all Graves had ever needed, one bruising hand on her plush hip keeping her angled just how he wanted as he fucked her as hard as he liked, but not as deep as she needed, only torturing her with the threat of his knot. 

But he couldn’t hold off forever. 

She was too hot, too tight, too wet and sweet, and he’d been kept from her for too long. He’d made her cum twice, and that was good, but the alpha needed to knot. He needed to mark. He needed to mate. 

He needed to mark her up, inside and out. 

Now. 

Before anyone, even God himself, could step in to stop him. 

Mine. 

A low, threatening growl rumbled out of him when Lauren’s sweet pleas grew louder, tone turning from begging into the beginnings of frustrated anger. 

That wouldn’t do. 

That would never be a tone he wanted her to use on him. 

One more deliberate squeeze of his hand around the nape of her neck to make her go limp again, cutting off the growing demands and the thrashing of her body. Seeing her like that, feeling her go lax and submissive, knot-hungry and needy as her slick dripped off of his balls - fuck. 

He moved the hand covering her neck, slipping his arm around her chest to hold on to her opposite shoulder as he opened his panting mouth against her swollen scent gland, the skin searing against his equally heated lips. 

“Mine,” he snarled as he held her down and popped his knot in with one hard, relentless thrust. 

She screamed, but she didn’t have time to do anything else before his fangs sunk deep into the spot that they’d longed to mark for two fucking years and drained his balls inside of his mate. 

The pleasure was so blinding everything around him went white. The feeling of her body stuck between his knot and his fangs, every breath tugging on his sensitive gums, every pulse of her blood inside her skin enough for him to feel her tighten around his cock she was stretched so thin, so tight. He knew she’d be hurting, he was too big and he’d been fucking mean, hadn’t stretched her for it at all. 

But god it was so good like this. 

How she was meant to take it. 

And god, she took it so fucking good. Cumming like a slut, like a good little omega all over her alpha’s fat fucking knot the second it locked and his teeth pierced her scent gland. 

His hips rolled in lazy, half-formed thrusts trying to press his cum deeper, despite the fact that the head of his cock was rammed up against her fucking cervix like this. 

The haze of rut cleared slightly with that first load, the chill of the air conditioner beginning to reach him again. 

He could feel the sweat on his back, the scratch of the sheets under his knees, the thundering of his mate’s heart. 

Could feel the bond, new, fragile, growing stronger as it formed in his chest. Filling in a hole he’d been keenly aware of his whole life, the perfect puzzle piece slotting into place. 

The relief was so keen he whined, grinding sharper against her hips, another hot, thick pulse of cum streaming out into her womb as he bit down deeper. 

Lauren whimpered, but her scent didn’t sour. Just got sweeter. 

“I c-can feel you,” she stammered. “God…Phillip…” 

He could feel her too. 

The aches and strain his her lower half from the brutal way he’d fucked her. The sharp sting in her throat. The need still simmering, but no longer boiling now that she had a load in her. Her heat was quelled for now, but it’d be back with a vengeance and he’d give her everything she’d ever need. 

Could feel something not physical, too. Something cool and sweet, like a freshwater spring tucked away in the heavy woods in high summer, refreshing you when you skinny-dipped to cool off. 

Something that was just…Lauren. 

Just like that, the perpetual anxious itch between his shoulder blades and the looming shadow of fear and dark possessive jealousy in the back of his head just vanished. She was his. Totally and completely and forever now. 

Not a goddamn thing that anyone could do about it. 

“Mine,” he said, or tried to. 

She flinched, and this time the flash of her pain made his stomach turn. 

Reluctantly, he pulled his mouth off of her neck, licking the trickles off blood off of her heated skin, a soothing rumble passed from deep in his chest right against her back, against the nape of her neck. 

And because she was a good fucking omega, she begged him not to, to keep them there, please alpha she could take it- 

“Shh,” he soothed, rough and dark. “Did so good, darlin’. My good omega.” 

He kissed her cheek, sticky with dried and fresh tears and sweat. Spreading his knees out, he pressed her down harder into the bed, settling in, smirking slightly when the pressure of his body over hers immediately made her relax again. 

“Gonna be locked a while yet,” he crooned happily. “Let’s get comfy, yeah darlin’?” 

He’d have to get her something to drink, something to eat. Thank god he had ready to go nonperishables, but this was still a far cry from an omega’s carefully curated and intimately familiar nest. 

Just meant he’d need to be extra attentive even after her heat, make sure she bounced back well. Course, she’d be doing it at his side, too. 

That made him smile against her cheek. 

Her cunt was still milking his cock, and every now and then he’d pump a new pulse of cum into her. 

If he’d been in a more self-aware state he’d have tried to say something truly filthy to her about it. But he really couldn’t at the moment. 

Not with her already making the cutest fucking sleepy noises as she found his hands and threaded her small, plush manicured fingers through his, yawning into the scratchy sheets. “Thank you, alpha.” 

His lips drew back from his teeth as that alone made his balls draw up again, grinding his hips against her cunt as he came once more. Black spots danced over his field of vision even with his eyes shut tight. 

“Gonna breed you again, sugar,” he murmured, kissing her temple, settling heavily over her body as he felt her drop off into sleep. “Get some rest. Gonna fucking need it, darlin’.” 

-

Laswell was waiting for them on the other side of the doors when Graves finally gave in to Lauren’s sweet urging and raised the emergency seal. 

She didn’t flinch, more credit to her, at the sight of Lauren practically mauled and drowning in Graves’ clothes in his arms even though Graves himself was only wearing a pair of boxers. Not even the scent of a rut/heat den being unleashed after a whole week seemed to have any effect on Laswell. 

“Graves, for the love of god.”

He grinned at her like an asshole. “Laswell, you remember Lauren, my mate?” 

Lauren waved from her perch in his arms, blushing. “Hi.” 

For a moment, Laswell’s narrow gaze didn’t move from Graves. She was analyzing him, picking out pieces of information and putting them together. Not that he didn’t think she already knew the full story already. 

If anything, he’d hope that she’d known exactly what his plan with Lauren was from the very beginning, otherwise she wasn’t nearly as good at her job as she should be. 

So he stood there, grinning like a total dick, unphased by her scrutiny or judgment. 

Sighing, Laswell turned to look at Lauren and immediately softened. “Hi. You alright, kiddo? This knothead didn’t hurt you?” 

Lauren puffed up like a bird, scowling cutely. “He’d never. He’s been nothing but a gentleman.” 

It didn’t escape his notice that a muscle in the beta’s jaw flickered, but he did appreciate that she managed not to laugh in Lauren’s face. 

Raising a hand, Laswell forestalled any other soliloquy. “Alright. Long as you’re not upset, kid.” Leveling her gaze on Graves, she sighed again. “You know Shepherd’s in a coma.” 

“Awh,” Graves said, trying to fight off the clenching jaw that wanted to lock, the curl of a growl that wanted to click into place. “Here I was hoping he’d be dead.” 

“It’d be less paperwork,” Laswell admitted to them without blinking, voice dry and eyes fixed on Graves. “After all, jealous alphas going feral over their omega being dropped into an unexpected heat is so commonplace it’s got its own fucking form in the DOD.” 

Graves blinked. “Really?” 

“No, knothead.” She paused. “Well, technically yes, but that’s not its only purpose. Anyway, the point is that you’re gonna have to go in front of the Supreme Court and explain yourself when they get around to the case.” 

Shrugging, Graves blew a raspberry. “Whatever. He touched my omega and tried to scruff her. DOD classifies that as a hate crime. I was triggered by my mate’s heat and went to an aggression rut. That I didn’t kill him proves I’m not feral.” 

“Or that your omega’s got you on a short leash.” 

Lauren snickered, and Graves chuckled, waggling his eyebrows at them both. “Now that she definitely does.” 

Now Laswell rolled her eyes, sighing again. “Yeah, I definitely should have just emailed.” 

Shifting in his arms, Graves felt the shift in Lauren’s emotions go from blissful happiness to slight anxiety before her scent changed a note. “Why did you come? Is everything alright?” 

Immediately, Laswell nodded. “Everything is under control. Oz kept Shadow Company running, from what I understand everything is proceeding as expected and under control.” 

Remembering their earlier conversation, Graves tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “And 141?” 

Laswell paused, staring at him, expressionless. “Taskforce 141 is currently on sabbatical. They will be back in three weeks.” 

So she had managed to find them mates. 

He grinned wide. “Timing worked out perfectly then, huh?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Her cool gaze warmed once more as she turned to Lauren. “I really came to warn you both about the Supreme Court hearing, whenever that happens, and that we’re still on track for deployment in three weeks.” 

Lauren’s hand went tight on the back of his neck, and he felt her gut swoop with dread. “Oh,” she said bravely, trying to force her voice to be braver than she felt. “Thank you, for that.” 

A worried little rumble revved in his throat as he kissed her cheek, holding her tighter. “We’ve still got three weeks then,” he soothed her. 

After a moment she nodded, but tucked her face against his throat. 

“I need to get you home, baby,” he frowned. “Need to get you to someplace you can make an actual nest and get some actual sleep.” 

She’d been wound tight as a watch spring in his arms, but at that she loosened a little. “…can we order food from Maurice’s?” 

A smile tugged at his mouth. “Course we can, honey. Anything you want.” 

The ill-ease he was feeling from her settled, and he glanced back at Laswell. 

She had a strange expression on her face. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve said she was almost fond. 

“Thanks for stopping by,” he said brightly. “Always nice to see work acquaintances first thing after a mating.” 

Rolling her eyes again, Laswell turned on her heel. “Three weeks, Graves, and then wheels up.” 

He ignored her departing words, grinning down at Lauren. “Three weeks isn’t nearly enough time alone with you, darlin’…” 

She peeked up at him, dark eyes wide and soft, exhaustion tinging the edges. 

“But it’s a damn good start, ain’t it sugar?” He kissed her, lingering, tasting her soft, swollen and much abused lips as he began to walk. “Let’s see if I can beat my record for quickest commute home, hm? And on the way you can order dinner.” 

Or follow orders and play with her puffy little clit until she came all over his custom leather interior, whichever. 

He’d decide in the car. 

He had that option now. Had all of the options now. Had everything he’d ever wanted, actually. 

Against her mouth, he sighed, squeezing her tight. “I fucking love you.” 

The bright flash of surprise and glee, then the wave of warm, heavy adoration and love came barreling through the bond. 

Lauren was grinning wide, eyes shining as he pulled back to see her face. Snuggling into his shoulder, she said dreamily, “I love you too.”

[forsaken-headcanons]

I like to personally headcanon that each survivor appeared one at a time, First Shedletsky, then Builderman, two time, guest 1337, 007n7, Elliot, and then noob... etc

when they first arrive brought by the specter in a blinding moment where they get a few hours of break from these games of its... the new player gets to calm down... learn whats going on... each of them are taken from a moment of time different from one another..

When they first appear, they are shocked and surprised, startled even, and petrified when they go through their first game.

I want to talk about 007n7 firstly, cause I will be coming back with more headcanons on how each of them reacted upon being sent and forsakened...

when 007n7 appered, it was a few months after his son was gone... missing... or dead...

he was a wreck already, his hat a bit wonky, his glasses uncleaned, deep eye bags from the nights he spent staring at the ceiling as those voices of doubt crept up and consumed him whole.

he fixed himself quickly, or to the best of his ability before being told about it, about what was going on.

he was shocked of course... startled even, but deep down, he knew he deserved this hell for how he failed his son's... C00LKIDD AND Bluedudde...

he knew or well recognized two of the people... past admins he'd butt heads with a few times in the past before... an accident occurred (this headcanon about the accident is a comic I'm making, so thank you for reading this ramble this far)... he knew of their status, of their ability... and noted how powerless they were...

he tried opening up C00lGUI, it worked slightly, just a bit wonky, the others were surprised, the ones already there a bit frightened that an exploiter, a damn hacker even, was sent to this hell on their side... but they watched as 007n7 tried to figure this out, but with in the next few moments the screen broke and embedded itself slightly into his skin, he hissed in pain as the Specter let a note fall from the ceiling for 007n7...

it stated that, while he'd have some of his abilities within this game of its, 007n7 wouldn't be able to use it on break time without risk of injury depending on what he was trying to do...

thats how 007n7 learned he was stuck here alongside the others for how ever long these games would last...

now onto when he had to face off against his own son... 007n7 would be shocked, frozen in fear as builderman tried to pull him a bit back, knowing how much fear being in these games can put into you when you first get here...

but he froze in shock that builderman did as 007n7 muttered under his breath, "son?" in a meek, exhausted, hopeless, and horrified voice...

007n7 during his first few games tried to keep the others from hurting his son, he kept getting yelled at because of it, the others confused on how he was so dense about this... builderman didn't speak up about what he heard, he only told Shedletsky who understood the pains of having ones creation, their own child face off against them in this sickened game...

guest 1337 shouted at 007n7 about how he was going to get killed out there by that murder, by that MONSTER...

007n7 lost his cool and all but screamed: "DON'T YOU DARE CALL MY SON A MONSTER!" tears briddled into his eyes as he left, heading towards the dock.

the survirors as they stood, this meek little group stood their grappling with this news...

this is how 007n7 started to become an outsider to the group unlike Shedletsky who was in a similar department to the man...

the anguish only grew from watching his son hurt others, the months passed, their numbers grew... Elliot gave him a cold shoulder as always, and slowly but surely 007n7 started to wither away...

not from being alone, hell he deserved that...

no he was weathering away because he knew he was no better then the killers they faced off against... he was killed over and over again, each time he tried to run and survive, his brain screaming at him that someone like him didn't deserve to... as his own son killed him over, and over, and over again...

eventually 007n7 was just quiet... The Specter knew he couldn't risk 007n7 dying in the break time, their'd be no bring him back, no more drama from this man, no more entertainment...

so the least it could do... was allow this man to see his son every once in awhile the way he use to be.. to try and keep this man around, to string him about before he hit him with another dark part of his past...

because what was this game then a sick little show to show how someones nasty past can effect others in the future?

thank you for reading this ,w,

i need to get my brains thoughts about this out before I forget them frfr

Ooh, that's a long one, but a good one.