#filing cabinets my enemy.

[maryyyy8]

This is the story of an idol named Miku!

Like my art? Consider commissioning me, or leaving a tip on Ko-fi!

#my art #art #digital painting #the stanley parable #hatsune miku #vocaloid #hope we all enjoy the miku parable drawing because i'm never doing this shit again unless i'm paid FAT stacks for it #filing cabinets my enemy. #i fucking hate drawing filing cabinets.

[roosterr]

murphy's law

a/n: ive had this idea in my head for a while so i decided to dump it out of my brain for all of you to enjoy. somewhat inspired by lunarvicar's amazing wonderful fic to the flame i really love her writing so check it out yo also i haven't written anything in years so cut me some slack :')

pairing: captain john price x gn!reader

summary: when a simple mission goes south, you get left behind in the confusion. you just can't seem to catch a break.

no use of y/n, callsign is 'vantage'

no physical description, but reader is (very) vaguely implied to be shorter than price

warnings: descriptions of injury (nothing too graphic), canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, minor character death, i don't know how the military works lmao, lots of swearing bc i can't help myself

word count: 8.6k

read it on ao3 here

✹✹✹

it was a straightforward mission; in and out, grab what you need, and you'd be home in time for dinner. nothing you hadn't handled before.

ghost and price were on overwatch; the lieutenant was positioned with his rifle on a rooftop across the street, whilst the captain stayed in the suv with a laptop to keep an eye on the surveillance cameras around the exterior of the building.

you'd had your eyes on this intel for months now, biding your time and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. your opening had finally arrived, and with all that time spent planning, it was going so well.

that should have been the first red flag.

the second, more apparent, warning sign was that anything you found as you, gaz, and soap swept the building was either something you already knew, or irrelevant. how was that possible? the location of this facility was a heavily guarded secret, you'd fought tooth and nail to find it; why spend so much effort hiding something which had such little value?

you'd ventured to the second floor, up the damp stairwell and further into the eerily quiet building. there must be something worth hiding here, you just had to find it. you certainly weren't planning on going home empty handed.

you paused your movement into the dark, staring down the empty corridor through the sights of your gun. you felt your stomach turn, and swallow down the sick taste of bile in your throat. for everything you'd done to get here…

it was going so… well.

bringing your hand to the radio on your chest, you don't bother to calm the shake in your voice before speaking.

"does this feel off to anyone–"

you're cut off by price's shouting, a twinge of panic in his voice you aren't used to hearing from him.

"fuck– it's an ambush! get out of there, now!"

you're about to respond, when you hear gunshots from below you. soap and gaz were downstairs, where the hostiles were pouring into the building, and you were on your own upstairs.

the shots from ghost's rifle make your ears ring, even from across the street.

"vantage, get yer arse down here, there's too many of 'em!" soap's yelling brings you out of your haze, and you can't find the energy to respond as you take off running, back to the stairs you came up. "shit– man down! gaz is hit! they're coming up, vantage!"

you just about register what he said when the door to the stairway bursts open only a few metres ahead of you. diving into the nearest open room, you narrowly avoid a bullet to the gut, and slam the door shut behind you.

shit. fuck. fucking shit.

you counted at least four hostiles up here, and with gaz injured, soap would most likely be dragging him back to the suv you all arrived in, where price was waiting, which meant…

you really were alone.

well, ghost was out there, but he was a man of self preservation. he wouldn't risk coming in here to save you. not when you were this fucked.

your chest felt tight, now, and you could hear the enemies shouting on the other side of the wall. come on, you plead with yourself, do something!

snapping your head to look around the room you'd trapped yourself in, your eyes linger on the filing cabinets lining the wall next to you. you can drag them over here, barricade the door. 

prolong your survival, or delay the inevitable.

you hadn't noticed how hard your nails were digging into your palms until you went to grip the cabinet. the half-moon divots stung against the cool metal as you heaved it in front of the door.

now the hostiles are outside, rattling the wall with their attempts to kick the door down.

you drag another one, for safe measure. you pray they'll be heavy enough.

through the blood rushing in your ears, you can just about make out price's voice.

"vantage, answer me dammit! what is your bloody status!"

"i'm good– i'm good," you manage to get out between pants, never once taking your eyes off the door. willing your heartbeat to slow down. "not injured, just– stuck in a room upstairs."

"that doesn't sound good to me."

it all went quiet when he spoke to you. at first you thought it was just because your focus had shifted– because it was him– but it really was quiet now.

"yeah, i… they're– wait, they're not at the door anymore, they…"

hold on.

what?

"ghost, you got eyes? what's happenin' over there?" there's a sense of urgency to your captain's voice, and for a single selfish moment, you think he might be worried for you beyond that of a just soldier. your frenzied mind lingers on that thought.

the gruff voice of ghost brings you back to reality,

"they're setting charges– vantage, you need to find a way out."

charges. explosives.

all you can muster is a half-hearted, "shit…"

deep down, you know that isn't going to happen. you wouldn't have time to run down the stairs, and even if you did you'd only be walking right into their bullets. there's nothing they can do to help. and you think, deep down, they know that too.

this is it, then, you think to yourself, am i really going to die like this?

and for another fleeting moment, you're filled with regret that you would never get to see john's face again. all the stolen glances, lingering touches, inside jokes; none of it would ever amount to anything. would he remember you? would he even come back for your dog tags?

the tightness is back in your heart, but it's different this time.

your eyes still don't leave the door as your back hits the wall. the faint moonlight gives the room a soft glow, serene, and your heart sinks further into your stomach.

the moonlight;

the window, the outside.

not an ideal escape route, but these were hardly ideal circumstances.

you didn't waste a second with hesitation and backed up for a running start. you thank every deity you can think of that you always insisted on wearing a helmet.

this was going to hurt, but it was better than the alternative.

"van, you have to get out, please!" you're not even sure who's talking in your ear anymore, but you know who you want it to be.

for him, you think to yourself, i have to make it back to him.

with a deep breath, you take off into a sprint, tucking your head into your elbow and diving shoulder first through the glass.

as you free fall out the second storey window, you think you hear john calling your name, your real name, and you think you feel a flutter in your chest. it was almost peaceful.

and then you hit the ground.

with a thump and a sickening crack, you rolled unceremoniously and ended up on your side, in the snowy alleyway behind the building you were just trapped in; the building that was about to be demolished. your elbow muffled your pained cry.

right, explosives, the reason you jumped to begin with.

your teammates are still going berserk in your ear, yelling at each other or you or both, but you can't bring yourself to respond. you could answer them once you were a safe distance away– and when you could breathe without heaving. as you stand, swaying on your feet, you feel your ribs shift in a way they definitely aren't supposed to, filling you once again with the innate urge to vomit.

but you swallow that down; it'll have to wait, you need to get as far away as possible, now.

your hands braced your broken ribs– and you notice, then, that your shoulder is killing you too– as you stumble down another alley, leading away from the building. you slip and almost fall on the untouched snow, but somehow manage to catch yourself. in the back of your mind, you notice you lost your rifle at some point. you'd have to survive with just your pistol.

for a moment, you almost felt that you'd gotten away, that you'd made the perfect escape.

of course, it was too perfect.

the charges finally went off. you were thrown forward, and despite your helmet, everything went black.

✹✹✹

your ribs flared with agony at the ragged breath you took, blinking your eyes open as consciousness returned to you. darkness swarmed your vision, contrasting the pure white of the snow that was slowly freezing your extremities, and you fought with every bit of self-restraint you had not to cry. your eyes stung anyway.

how long were you out? you were still in the alley, and you hadn't been found by anyone yet, so it couldn't have been long. i need to move, is the only thought swirling in your head. with what little strength you could muster, you rolled yourself onto your back to look at the ruins behind you.

dust filled the air and coated everything in sight, obscuring your vision almost fully; but what you could make out, was the lights from your enemy's guns as they swept the rubble.

looking for you, presumably.

shit shit shit.

you had god knows how many broken ribs, your shoulder was fucked, and now your vision was swimming, and to top it all off you could barely hear yourself think over the violent ringing in your ears. this night just kept getting better and better.

it took everything in you not to scream at the agony as you dragged yourself behind a fallen dumpster, sitting up against the cold brick of the building behind you in an attempt to catch your breath.

in. out. in. out.

in.

out.

every move had your bones creaking in protest, the longer you sat here the more you felt every little cut and bruise and shard of glass littering your body. the dust in the air tickled your throat and threatened to make you cough up a lung, spots in your vision danced like fireflies, luring you back into the clutches of sleep.

no… i can't rest yet, you urged yourself to fight your drooping eyelids, i have to get back to the suv… they're waiting… for me…

the crunch of debris under heavy boots snaps you back to the present.

someone was approaching.

the optimist in you wanted to believe it was price, coming to rescue you. but you couldn't take that chance. your hand grips the pistol on your hip, drawing it out slowly to make as little noise as possible.

the shadowed figure came stumbling into view. your arm straightened to aim at their unprotected head, eyes wide and breathing laboured.

the man– the boy– locked eyes with you, flinging himself backwards to the wall opposite you with his hands held high.

your expression hardened. he was your enemy. his uniform made that clear. for a moment, neither of you moved, you weren't even sure if he was breathing anymore. like two wild animals, locked in a staredown, each of you waiting for the other to make the first move. which one of you was the hunter, and which one was the prey?

shooting him will draw his comrades over here. sparing him means he can call them over himself. a lose-lose.

lost in your internal debate as you stare at him, you vaguely notice his hand lowering to his belt, and in a moment of panic, your heart clenches in time with your finger to deliver a shot right between his eyes.

his body slid down the wall, a perfect mirror of your own as the life fades from his expression.

shit. again.

his friends must’ve heard that. with renewed, adrenaline fueled vigour, you scramble across the alley, and begin rifling through the packs on his chest and belt.

a twinge of guilt fills you as you notice his empty holsters. he wasn't even armed.

shaking your head, you find what you're looking for; a morphine shot. at least, that's what it looked like, the words on the label were swimming with the concussion you surely had. it would have to do.

you take the syringe carefully, and stick the end into the muscle of your thigh, through a rip in your pants you hadn't noticed before, and inject the solution. it would take a minute to kick in, but hopefully the painkiller would help you at least make it back to the suv where your team was waiting.

where price was waiting. god you hoped they were okay, him especially, though he was probably in the least danger of you all. what you wouldn't give to have stayed in the car with him.

pocketing the empty syringe, you spare another glance at the boy's face. his wide, lifeless eyes. the pack he was reaching for. the same one you found the morphine in.

he… was going to help you. and you'd killed him.

oh god. the realisation has your stomach turning for the third time that day.

you pressed his eyes shut and pushed yourself to stand. as you trudge your way to the far end of the alley, you keep your eyes forward. there wasn't time to linger.

with a deep breath, you steel yourself and begin to make your way through the cold, abandoned streets of the small town. the suv wasn't far, only a couple blocks away. it wouldn't take you long to get there, even with your injuries.

somewhere in the distance, you could hear terrified screaming, presumably the residents who were forced awake by the sound of the explosion.

now that the ringing had died down, you realise that you hadn't heard your teammates in a while. absent-mindedly, you bring a hand up to press the comms, and you almost start talking before you feel the plastic crunch under your fingers.

"oh for fucks sake."

of fucking course your radio was broken. it must have been crushed when you were flung forward by the explosion.

brilliant.

whatever, the suv would be in your sight soon anyway, you don't need it.

the cover of night made it significantly easier to hobble through the streets unseen, thanks to your all black gear. the enemy were still hovering around the destroyed building, but at least that meant they thought you were buried under there. hopefully they would stay distracted long enough for you to make it back.

god, fuck, you really couldn't wait to get back to base. you desperately needed a shower hot enough to melt your skin to scrub off all the dirt and blood from your body. the morphine had started to kick in now, but you still felt your ribs shift unnaturally with every heavy step. you'd definitely need a few weeks off to recover from this one, and you’d probably get an earful from the captain. you’d kill to hear his voice right now, even if he was yelling at you for being an idiot.

only a little further. then you’d be back with the safety of your team, with this godforsaken place in the rear view mirror. with the promise of being able to rest, your limbs seemed to grow heavier as the exhaustion finally made its way into your bones.

except, when you turn the final corner, you freeze, an ice-cold dread sweeping through your veins.

the car was gone.

it wasn’t there.

they weren’t there.

there was a stretch of tarmac that fresh snow just beginning to fall had yet to cover, tire-tracks that showed the u-turn the suv had done, blood on the snow from– you assume– gaz, empty bullet casings from the fight they put up.

but no suv.

no teammates.

no john.

no. no, no no no. they couldn’t have left you. that wasn’t how you did things in the 141. it was no man left behind, you knew that. maybe they’re just circling the area, you rationalised, desperately trying to calm your ragged breathing, yeah, they went to look for me. they wouldn’t leave me behind.

but they weren't here.

and as you followed the tire-tracks down the street, they didn’t go back into the town. they made a straight line, directly to the dirt track leading into the wilderness, clear as day in the snow. back the way you had all gotten here earlier that night.

your knees dampen from the snow, the painkiller in your system keeping you from feeling the impact. when did you fall over? there was no attempt to stop the searing hot tears this time as they ran through the dirt caked to your face. your throat constricted, lifting a hand to your mouth to muffle your hyperventilating.

they were gone.

long gone, without you.

they really had left you behind.

a mumble from somewhere to your left interrupts your breakdown. grief morphs into blinding rage for a split second; can i get a fucking break? you swing your arm still holding the pistol to point at whoever was watching you, twisting your abdomen in a way that has you gritting your teeth.

a woman, clutching her young son, shielding his eyes and ears from you.

you lower your gun. that’s not a mistake you’ll make twice. catching her eyes, you gesture for her to be quiet, which is quickly met with her frantic nodding.

it reminds you, you’re still not safe here. you were supposed to be, but hey, it looks like plans change. no man left behind– what a load of horseshit. you push yourself onto shaky legs, you only had a few hours until the morphine wore off, and you needed to be out of here before that happened. as fast as you could possibly muster, you begin to stumble towards the dirt track that disappears into the treeline, following the slowly disappearing tire-tracks.

✹✹✹

you managed to make it into the woods faster than you expected, and you found a fallen tree slightly off the path to take shelter behind while you licked your wounds. literal and metaphorical.

this was unbelievable. how could they leave you like that? if they’d only taken the time to do a quick lap of the building, they would’ve found you laying face down in the snow, and this whole mess could have been avoided. where were they off to in such a hurry anyway? it’s not like you guys had found anything sensitive. 

oh, wait. gaz was shot. that had briefly slipped your mind. perhaps you were being a little selfish by getting so worked up by this, but then again, for all they knew you could have been in the same condition– or worse. they…

your breath hitched. and not from your injuries.

they thought you were dead. that would make sense, in the chaos of everything, and amidst your panic, you didn’t really do a good job keeping up with answering your comms. still though, you were definitely going to rip them all a new one when you got back; or maybe it would be the other way around.

either way, you couldn’t sit here and dwell on it all night. you needed to make it to the safehouse before they flew back to base. if you missed them this time, you really were well and truly fucked.

✹✹✹

"i've gotta be at least half-way by now," you lament, flopping down against another tree with a grunt in an attempt to calm the burning in your legs and chest. the morphine had worn off about a few hours ago, and you were finally feeling all the bleeding wounds you'd ignored before. nothing lethal, you hoped, aside from your shoulder, ribs, and splitting headache, it was mostly just a lot of glass in your skin.

when you left the town, it must have been just past midnight, and at this pace it would be well after morning before you made it back. you could just about see the first signs of dawn poking through the cloud layer.

the snow had gotten heavier, casting a haze over the horizon, but it hadn't escalated into a storm yet. even under all your gear, the cold was starting to bite at your limbs. your lack of gloves was a decision you were coming to regret; if you lost any fingers because of this you really were going to kill price.

"fuck, he thinks i'm dead…" you groan as you stare up at the sky. snowflakes catch in your eyelashes and threaten to freeze the tears as they well up in your eyes. was he as distraught as you currently were, you wonder? was he even moved at all, or were you just another soldier, just more paperwork he had to fill out?

being in love with your captain was so, so difficult. a mistake, most would say, and you used to tell yourself the same thing. but after knowing him, seeing the vulnerable parts of him he keeps closely guarded, you can't bring yourself to care. seeing his expression when you gifted him the cigars you bought for him, learning his favourite drink when you all went out after missions, trading stories over paperwork in his office late at night. even after everything you've been through together, you know, in your heart, he doesn't feel the same; he's your superior, you're his sergeant, and he is nothing if not an honest man. it can never work between you two. but despite it all, the only regret you have as you sit bleeding in the snow, is that you never told him how you felt.

please, don't leave me here… 

in the back of your mind, you know they wouldn't go home without at least id-ing your body, but you were so shaken by the ongoing near death experience that your train of thought wasn't making much sense anymore.

the distant whirr of a helicopter snapped you back to reality. maybe it was… no, the 141 didn't have a helicopter here, which could only mean it was a hostile one. fucking fantastic. where you were slumped was right at the edge of the road, with very little cover from above. you needed to move further off the path, under the protection of the forest canopy.

with a laboured grunt, you pulled yourself back onto your feet, using the tree behind you as a crutch until you could catch your breath again. the helicopter was getting nearer now, close enough that you could almost make out the spotlight through the falling snow.

a brief jog was all you could manage to get away from the road. the snow wasn't deep enough to leave tracks that would be noticeable from the air, not through the shade of darkness. you still as the helicopter passes overhead. there's no change in its course, and you huff a breath of relief. at least you wouldn't have to try and outrun a chopper.

you watch the helicopter's silhouette fade into the night sky. there was nothing to do but carry on. you needed to get to the safehouse.

this was going to be a long night.

✹✹✹

hours, it had been hours since you first set off, so long in fact that it was essentially daytime. the sun hadn't fully risen, casting the world in a dim light that was just dark enough to keep you tripping over roots and holes in the ground.

the snow had let up a while ago, but the overcast clouds had stayed, the perfect match to your steadily declining mood. you thought you felt like shit earlier? if only you could have predicted how much worse it would get. you were acclimated to the pain by now, it reduced to a constant throbbing where your bones were broken. perhaps the icy temperature around you was numbing your injuries; it was either that or the shock.

ahead, you recognised a set of worn tire-tracks making a hard turn through a gap in the forest. there was no way of knowing it was the right way, but a spark of optimism ignites in your chest. maybe you were finally getting close. you just had to pray that your sense of direction was good enough to be leading you in the right direction.

you were right on top of the tracks now, and upon closer inspection, the pattern of the treads might just match the ones on the suv; you've had to fix that damn car so many times you'd know it in your sleep. they were messy, the snow making it hard to pick out, but you needed the hope right now.

this had to be them.

you go to continue down the clear path, to follow where your team had gone, but your luck just doesn't improve.

the mud slides under your foot, catching your ankle and toppling you in your attempt to struggle through. the breath is forced from your lungs as you impact the ground. you cry out through gritted teeth, feeling the strain of your muscles twisting far further than they're supposed to.

pain strikes through your ankle like lightning. drawing a breath is almost impossible from the pressure of your ribs. as you fight to sit up, the mud fights to drag you back down like quicksand.

fuck. another injury to slow you down.

muddy snow covers you from head to toe, the stabbing pain in your shoulder coming back in full force.

was that a car? the low rumbling from the direction you came from drew your attention, and you faintly see beams of headlights through the darkness. you momentarily forgot about your injuries, a frenzied panic making your blood run cold. another patrol. i need to go.

then, as you struggle to get up and out of sight, you feel a concerning pop from your kneecap, and you don't even have to look to know it's dislocated.

but there was no time to check the damage, you had to hide, now, or the truck would reach you and you'd have a lot more problems on your hands. you scramble onto your hands and knees, and yank your ankle free of the wet mud, practically throwing yourself behind the undergrowth just in time for the truck to round the bend.

your ribs are displaced again, injecting fresh pain into the shuddering breath you took, on top of your newly twisted ankle and dislocated kneecap bent uncomfortably beneath you.

it's a miracle you were able to keep quiet as the vehicle passed by.

by some stroke of luck, or just divine stupidity, your enemies drive straight past the space in the trees and your hiding spot. the headlights cast ominous shadows as they cruise by, but they didn't see you.

struggling to your feet once again, this time you give the muddy path a wide berth as you make your way deeper into the forest.

✹✹✹

one foot in front of the other. dragging your injured leg behind you. cradling your broken ribs.

just keep going.

limping through the mud took every resource your body had left, the effort of keeping upright was almost more than you could take.

how much longer could you possibly go, before you can't get back up again?

you couldn't lose hope.

ahead of you, a break in the sea of trees.

just one foot in front of the other. that's all you need. it's all you can do.

closer, stepping out into the open, squinting against the sun.

against the pale light of the morning sky, you see a dark shape. a building? you couldn't tell, you could only pray it was the warehouse you'd been longing for.

one foot in front of the other.

closer still, despite the bone-deep exhaustion in every limb. you could make it out now, the rusted metal siding and fresh tire-tracks in the mud. you were right there.

you taste the salt before you realise you're crying. 

almost,

somewhere between the agony, you hear yourself think,

still too early to celebrate.

your heart stutters. they were here, they had to be.

they had to be.

one foot in front of the other.

closer again, you focus on the keypad beside the door. your ankle twists uncomfortably as it drags along the gravel.

the handle became your crutch as you mustered the energy to lift your arm to enter the code.

seeing double, vision swaying as the edges fade.

a distant beep. a red light turning to green.

the handle turns under your weight, and the door swings open.

you find the floor coming up fast.

voices are all around you.

you give in to unconsciousness.

✹✹✹

the distinct hospital smell is what rouses you from your deep, dreamless sleep. hands prod at your busted ribs, drawing a scratchy groan from your dry throat. you grab the wrist of whoever is there as you fight to open your eyes.

"sergeant vantage?" they call out to you, and you realise with a disappointed sigh that it's the medic and not your captain. you open your eyes fully and see her standing above you with a clipboard in one hand. apart from her, you're alone in the medical wing. she notices you looking around, and looks down at the clipboard as she continues,  "glad to see you finally awake. your teammate gaz got off pretty lucky, the bullet went clean through his leg. you on the other hand, i'm impressed you made it back at all."

your ankle is in a boot and elevated on some pillows, and you can feel your knee is tightly bandaged under the blankets. an ache starts to form in your shoulder at the effort of holding your arm up.

"vantage, i need you to let go of my wrist." she says, and after an awkward pause you free her from your hold.

"sorry doc…" you mumble, bringing both hands up to your face and observing the tiny cuts littering your skin. you let them flop down to your sides again, but the aching doesn't subside.

"how are you feeling?" she breaks the momentary quiet, setting her clipboard down on the table next to your bed, "want me to get you anything?"

"i'd kill for some water…" you wheeze, the dehydration was catching up to you.

"alright, i'll be right back," the doctor affirms, making her way to the door. she turns back to look you in the eyes with a stern expression before she leaves, "please don't go anywhere."

and with that, the door clicks shut and you're left truly alone with your thoughts again.

your bones creak as you push yourself to sit up, your movements sluggish still with exhaustion, and you're reminded of just how badly you were hurt. everything aches, and it feels as though you'd been asleep for years.

gaz was okay, that's a relief. a little insulting that he got shot and was still in better condition than you, but whatever.

you look around the room for something, anything, to take your mind off the pain, and your eyes eventually land on the table beside you. a few cards sat on top, all with some variation of get well soon on the front, along with a small vase of flowers. you pick up the card closest to you and open it to read the scratchy handwriting inside.

'i swear you could survive a nuke, you're like a cockroach! get better soon, lots of love, soap! xxxxx'

what a charmer soap was. you chuckle at his lighthearted message, he always did try to keep your spirits up in times like these. as you place the card back where it was, your gaze is drawn to the empty chair next to your bed. there was a thin blanket folded over the back, probably left by whoever was last sitting there.

your mind begins to wander; how long were you out? your teammates clearly visited, does that mean price did too? you feel your stomach flutter at the thought of him worrying for you, watching over you as you recover. and if he fell asleep at your bedside? the heart monitor might call the doctor back if this train of thought continues. but then again, you doubted he'd be that forward, he would most likely be buried in paperwork like he usually is after a mission. and the mission you just came back from would require more paperwork than most.

because they… left you behind. that's right. you had to walk yourself back to the safehouse on all your injuries. who knows how long you were walking for but it must have been at least ten hours, considering the sun had risen by the time you got there. the butterflies were swiftly melted by the hot anger rising within you.

you were going to give him a piece of your mind, just like you promised.

all thoughts of the pain you were feeling are out of your head as you fling the blanket off your lower body. you grip your injured leg and lift it over the edge of the bed, swinging your other leg to plant both feet on the floor.

just as you were about to pull yourself up to stand, the door opens again and the medic walks in with your water bottle in her hand. she stops, an icy look in her eyes as she observes what you're doing.

you look back at her, debating whether you should give it up and lay back down, but your anger quickly wins over. the heart monitor picks up again as you work yourself up.

"i swear to god, if you don't sit back down right now," she makes her way over, setting the water down on the table you were using as a crutch. you meet her eyes indignantly, and go to step around her anyway. "no! you need to rest!" the doc puts her hands on your shoulders, and she stops your movement embarrassingly easily.

"fuck that," you croak, your voice still hoarse, "where's captain shithead? i need a word."

she maneuvers you back into sitting on the edge of the bed, and hands you the water. you keep your sour expression, but still drink half the bottle in one go.

"i assume you mean captain price? he's in his office, hasn't come out since you all got back." she takes the bottle from you when you're done, setting it down again, before moving to take the iv out of your arm. if she feels your glare, she doesn't acknowledge it. "whatever it is, it can wait."

"yeah right, i got a few strong words for him, and he is gonna hear 'em."

the doc hesitates as she works.

"i don't know exactly what happened out there, but i think you should know… that he hasn't visited you," she speaks softly, watching your angry expression fall. "your other teammates did, i even saw ghost sneaking out of here one night, but you didn't hear that from me."

silence overcame the small room again as her words sunk in. he left you for dead, and now he was avoiding you? even ghost visited you, and you'd barely had a single conversation with him. your heart feels tight again, the same way it did when you were trapped in that building.

"how long was i out?" your voice is low, almost a whisper.

"two days."

you should have listened to all the people who told you loving him was a bad idea. you'd almost died, and he still didn't visit you? that stung. god, you haven't even been awake an hour and you already want to throw up.

i guess i really don't mean that much to him, huh?

you think back to the night before the mission, when you'd sat with john while he did paperwork. at first, he tried to convince you to get some sleep, 

"you wanna be well rested, love."

but you stayed anyway, saying that you'd just sleep on the flight. you would rather spend your nights of insomnia with him anyway.

the two of you had talked for hours that night, about anything that came to mind. it was the early hours of the morning when you finally retreated back to your own quarters. he'd insisted on seeing you back, despite the fact that it was the middle of the night and your room was in the next building over. the way he'd lingered by your door as you said goodnight, you really thought he was going to kiss you then. but he didn't, and you went to sleep with a heavy feeling of disappointment that persevered into the next day.

"i'm sorry vantage." the medic sets something down on the end of the bed, and you turn to look. a pile of your clothes. "i know how you soldiers are, you're gonna get up as soon as i leave no matter what i say, so i'd rather you not walk around in a hospital gown."

she was right.

"...thanks, doc."

despite the overwhelming pain in your heart, you were still about to rip into price.

✹✹✹

you limp out of the infirmary after dressing yourself as quickly as your injuries would allow, which is to say, not very fast. thankfully there weren't any stairs between here and your captain's office, you definitely wouldn't be able to make it up them with your crutch.

the sun was already setting, a pink hue filling the sky as you pushed open the doors of the medical wing. you tried to think as little as possible as you made your way steadily across the courtyard. it would only upset you, and you desperately wanted to be pissed at him. you wouldn't– couldn't– let price see how hurt you were, he probably didn't care anyway. he was just your captain, after all, realistically there was no reason for you to be this upset.

but you were, and the few people you encountered in the corridors could see it written on your face, staying well out of your way as you shuffled past them.

as you stared at the closed door of john's office, your anger wavered. despite the ache in your heart, you considered for a moment that perhaps you were being dramatic. he was your captain, you were just one of his soldiers. it made perfect sense that he'd prioritise the lives of three others over yours alone.

it was his job, and he did it well.

you love john, of course you do, and that's why you're so affected by that fact. maybe you were letting your selfishness get the better of you. honestly, you didn't have a real reason to believe he felt the same way about you. everyone on task force 141 was close, that's the way things are, you couldn't confidently say he treated you differently.

but he was smart. he had to know how you felt, had at least had to know that you don't go out of your way for your other teammates as much as you do for him.

then again, even ghost had visited you while you were out, and you considered yourself much closer to price than him. so maybe he hated you now, he'd finally gotten tired of your poor decision making skills. it was the reason you were in this situation to begin with.

you were just about to abandon the idea of laying into him when price's voice sounded through the door.

"whoever's standin' out there, hurry up and come in, or piss off." he sounded exhausted, his tone blunt with annoyance. it wasn't unusual for him to get like that, especially whilst buried in mind-numbingly boring paperwork, but you could feel something else under the surface of his sharp tone.

well, there goes your last chance to run. you took a moment to steel yourself, to remember that you were in fact angry at him, and open the door with the harshest look you can muster.

he didn't look up as you let the door close behind you, keeping his nose buried in whatever report he was currently scribbling on. his hat was discarded on the desk next to him, and the hand in his hair was keeping it the messiest you'd ever seen it. you breathe in deeply through your nose.

"oh you'd love to get rid of me that easily, wouldn't you?" you spit, coming to stand in the middle of the room.

john's head snaps forward at the sound of your voice, the hand in his hair dropping to his desk, allowing you to finally get a good look at him. his eyes were wide and tired, you could tell the bags under them were darker than the last time you'd looked him in the face.

"vantage…" he spoke with something almost like disbelief, like he couldn't fathom that you were really in front of him. the hard lines of his face soften as his eyes meet yours, and then even further when his gaze falls to your crutch and boot.

fuck, how were you supposed to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that? you channel every ounce of bottled up frustration you have before his blue eyes consume you.

"well unfortunately, i am still alive. not that you give a shit; you got a restraining order on the infirmary or something?"

he murmurs your name– your real name, and as he rises to stand, his eyes don't leave yours for a second.

fuuuuuck.

"what? you leave me for dead, now the cats got your tongue?" you hiss at him, but you can feel the venom leaving your words with every second. the way his expression falls ever so slightly has you regretting what you were saying. you came in here needing to hurt him the way he hurt you, but you were quickly losing your nerve.

"don't do that…" he was almost pleading, as he made his way around his desk to stand in front of you, his piles of paperwork long forgotten. he goes to grasp your elbow, but you pull back before he can touch you. 

"sorry if you've already filled out my death certificate, i'd hate to cause you any more headaches." there was little fight left in your voice now, as you stared each other down in the middle of his office.

in the pause, john screws his eyes shut, turning his head to the side, before fixing you with a hard stare.

"don't. you know i would never've left you if i had any other choice!" it's not anger when he raises his voice, it's desperation; trying to convince himself as well as you. he takes another step towards you, toe to toe now as you lock eyes.

"do i know that? because from where i'm standing, it looks like you couldn't get far enough away from me," you can't help the way your voice cracks, nor can you disguise the hurt when you continue, "even fucking ghost visited me, but not you…"

another beat of silence.

"i couldn't…" john mumbled, eyes showing his mind was somewhere else. your chest tightened; every trace of anger was gone, replaced with the heartache you'd gotten so familiar with when it came to him.

"correct me if i'm wrong, but i really thought you cared." you try to take a step back, put some distance between the two of you, but he grabs your upper arm– successfully this time– to stop you going anywhere. it takes an impressive amount of restraint not to melt at his touch.

"of course i fuckin' care!" he growls, tugging you marginally closer.

your eyes hardened again; of course he did, just not in the way you wanted him to.

you jab your finger into his chest as you speak, your expression sour. "well you could've fooled–"

he grabs your hand as he cuts you off, and you can see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his face turning sharp again.

"bloody hell, just shut up! it killed me to leave without you, y'know that? if it weren't for simon i would've sent 'em back without me! i waited, as long as i could," he wasn't shouting, but you went quiet as if he was, any retaliation you thought of dying on your tongue. john let out a heavy sigh before he continued, "but you didn't come. you were stuck in that building, and then when it went up in fuckin' smoke, what was i supposed to think? i– we called out to you so many times, but you never responded."

the silence between you was heavy. deep down, you had already assumed everything he was telling you, but to actually hear it from his mouth had you choking up in his grasp.

"i…" you tried to say something, anything, but the words just wouldn't come. despite your best efforts, the tears welling up in your eyes were close to spilling over as your gaze fell to the floor.

john sighed again, softer this time, and using the hand on your arm he brought you into his chest, letting go of your hand with his other and wrapping it securely around your back.

you rest your cheek against his chest, bringing your own arms up around his torso, and revelled in the feeling of his embrace. listening to his elevated heartbeat, you wondered if he could feel just how hard yours was beating too.

"when you came crashin' through that door the next mornin', alive, i swear i've never been so relieved. but then you wouldn't wake up, and you were covered in so much blood… i…" his voice breaks, actually breaks, and you try to lift your head to look at him, but his hand on your arm moves up and presses into the back of your head, holding you tight against him. "...i was fuckin' terrified, love." he whispered.

"... why didn't you visit me?" the question you'd been meaning to ask all along, the real reason you had been upset at him.

you feel him press his lips into the top of your head, gently rocking you both where you stand. the crutch falls from your arm, but neither of you make any move to retrieve it.

"i couldn't. i couldn't face you, layin' in that hospital bed, hooked up to all them machines… knowin' it was my fault…"

"Hey, you know it wasn’t…" you murmur with disapproval; as much as you hate to admit it, you dug yourself into that hole.

"fuck, i'm– so fucking sorry love,"

"don't apologise… please, you did what you had to," you lift your head, and you can look him in the face again. his eyes were slightly red; if your heartstrings were pulled anymore they'd surely break. "plus, i was never really mad at you anyway."

he huffs out a small chuckle, his breath fanning over your face, the crease in his brow melting away as your eyes meet, "well ain't that a relief?"

"i thought you were pissed at me, and that's why you didn't visit…" you clear your throat and avoid his gaze, "i mean, i did lock myself in a building full of hostiles… not my finest moment,"

"no. as stupid as you are sometimes, i could never be angry at you." 

"that is a relief."

a quiet overcomes the two of you, standing in eachothers arms as the evening sun casts the room in an orange glow. you wanted to stay like this for the rest of time, but it was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the voice in the back of your head that said this was inappropriate. the way he was talking, holding you, had your hopes high, just like that night before the mission. the one where you went to bed disappointed. it didn't help that you were expecting the let-down now, if anything it only made your heart sink even lower.

you notice that, exactly like you, john was staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. you tilt your head, wordlessly urging him to tell you what's going on. he sighs, scanning the multitude of cuts and scrapes that litter your face, "i promise you, i will never let anything like that happen again, alright?"

"i believe you." you smile softly, and you do; of course you do, you'd trust him with your life. it wasn't something you'd admit out loud, but you would do just about anything if he asked you to.

"i swear, i'm not lettin' you outta my sight." the look on his face has you squirming is his grasp, under the intense gaze he pinned you with.

"alright, i get it," you chuckle, your face heating up at the implication. this was doing nothing for the enormous crush you were harbouring. shuffling backwards slightly, you put enough space between you that you can comfortably rest your hands on his chest.

"i don't think you do, love," you feel his chest rumble as he speaks, and his gaze becomes serious, "i coulda' lost you. i thought i did. fuck, when soap and gaz came outta there without you? i thought my heart'd stopped… i just– i…"

it was rare to see your captain so lost for words. you feel his heart beat faster under your fingertips, the distant look in his eyes giving away the internal debate he was surely having.

"john?"

"if i'm out of order, say the word and we can forget all about this, but vantage…" his voice was low, and you felt your cheeks heat up to a boiling point as he cradled your face with one hand and leaned in closer, chest to chest again. the anticipation and the proximity might just make you sick. "you mean the world to me, i don't know what i'd do with myself if i lost you."

was that… what you thought it was? it sounded an awful lot like a confession, and you really really wanted it to be, but… was it too good to be true?

the lack of a response from you had john pulling back with an uncharacteristic cough that radiated embarrassment. he let go of your face, hovering next to your cheek as if he couldn't bear to let go, and you frown at the absence of his warmth.

"just ignore me, i shouldn't've–" he begins to back-pedel, going to move away from you before you cut him off.

"no!" you exclaim, with a bit more panic than you intended, and grasp his shirt in your fists to keep him close. "i get it, i really do. i- i care about you too, probably a lot more than a teammate should." your face heats up at the admission, and he lights up with surprise. "i think i always have."

slowly, he moves his hand back to its place cupping your jaw, searching your eyes for any signs that he was misinterpreting your response. when he found none, he smiled at you so genuinely you doubted anyone had ever been so sincere towards you.

"yeah?" he murmurs, the slight disbelief gone from his expression but still present in his voice.

"yes, john," you mirror his tone, bringing a hand up to hold the back of his neck. his skin burned hot under your touch.

"well thank god for that," his voice is barely a whisper now, as he draws your lips closer to his. the air separating you felt thick enough to be cut.

you let your eyes fall closed, and with a small burst of confidence, you lean forward and close the final distance between the two of you. he kisses you so tenderly, with so much emotion, it makes your head spin. you sigh into him, tilting your head and pressing yourself impossibly closer, revelling in the feeling of being in his arms at last. all your many months of pining had led up to this moment, and you felt like your heart might just burst. regretfully, you find yourself needing to break away for air, and to your delight he follows your lips as you pull back.

"maybe i should get injured more often, if this is what i get," you breathe, a dazed smile on your face as both your eyes flutter open, and his chest rumbles under your hand with a deep chuckle.

"you better not; i'll have your head if you do, love."

✹✹✹

#john price x reader #captain price #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #price fic #mw2 x reader #price x reader #141 x reader #first fic ive ever posted im scared #dont break my heart pls <3 #roosterr writes

[jobean12-blog]

Collide

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader (sorta enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 2,283

Summary: You and Javi have been working together for a while and have a volatile relationship...until something finally gives.

Author's Note: Since I can't seem to get his man off my mind here's my second Javi fic. He's so sexy I can barely manage. Thank you to my lovely friends @lizette50 and @tripletstephaniescp for always feeding my Pedro obsession so well! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely Daisy @firefly-graphics thank you!🥰

Warnings: some tension, sassiness, flirting, but lots of softness too, Javi is super sexy because duh

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

When the phone rings for the fourth time you stomp your heels on the ground and push back from your desk with an exasperated huff.

“What the hell is he…?” you mutter as you look down at the screen and see Steve’s number. Again.

You push the door to Javi’s office open without a knock and fold your arms across your chest.

“Want to answer the phone some time today?”

Javi looks up from the open drawer of his filing cabinet and narrows his eyes.

“I’m busy.”

When he dismisses you with the drop of his head, refocusing on his papers, you growl out a curse.

“Don’t you dare…”

Your threat is cut off when the phone in his office rings. He looks up and gives you a warning glare, daring you to answer it.

You throw him a fake saccharine smile and start to turn around, only to spin back toward his desk and rush for the phone when he’s no longer looking.

His low “fuck,” is all your hear before you grab the receiver and pick up with a friendly, “hello, this is the office of Javier Pena, how many I help you.”

Javi crowds you against his desk, his hard chest pressed to yours and his breath warm against your cheek as he exhales.

You swallow hard but square your shoulders and focus on the call.

“Oh sure Steve, he’s right here…mm hmm.”

You keep your eyes on his, refusing to back down even as your own body betrays you and you lean closer.

Javi rests his hands along the edge of the desk on either side of you and dips his head until his lips brush the shell of your ear, his whisper deep and low. “I said I was busy.”

Thankful that he can’t see your face you drag your teeth over your bottom lip before gathering yourself again to chirp into the phone, “oh he’s not busy at all, one second.”

You cover the mouthpiece and smile. “It’s Steve. He’s been trying to reach you all afternoon.” Your tone is dripping with fake sugariness.

Javi just stares, his dark eyes sweeping over your face until they land on your lips and linger.

He scoffs and wraps his hand around the handset, covering yours with his calloused but warm skin.

“What?” he says into the phone as he keeps you trapped against the desk.

You pull your hand free of the phone and flatten your palms against his chest with a push.  

He doesn’t budge, his gaze still locked on yours.

“Move,” you grit out under your breath and give him another shove.

He takes a slow step backward, just enough to let you brush past him and as you do your scent fills the air and he inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering closed.

Even as you walk out of his office you feel the persistent heat of him still close and your traitorous body trembles.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

“What was that?” Steve asks through the phone.

“What…nothing. Fuck.”

Steve sighs on the other end and Javi pinches the bridge of his nose.

“What do you want Steve?”

“Man she really riles you up huh?” Steve teases.

“Who…what?” Javi stammers, now rubbing his temple. “Just tell me why you called four times.”

You’re typing something up when the door to Javi’s office opens with a slam. He steps out with his tie hanging haphazardly around his neck and his jacket thrown over one shoulder.

“I’ll be gone for the rest of the day,” he says indifferently as he walks by. “You can leave all my messages on the desk.

“You’re tie is completely crooked,” you spit back at him.

He stops a few feet from you and looks down and you take the opportunity to get a good look at his ass. It makes you angry that he’s so attractive and that you’re so attracted to him and when he turns your way you have a scowl on your face.

“Didn’t know that was such a problem for you,” he says as he drops his jacket on a nearby desk chair and starts to fiddle with his tie.

You watch as he struggles with the material and clearly grows more frustrated with each passing second.

With a roll of your eyes you stand and step into his space, smacking away his hands until he drops them with a sigh.

“Can’t answer the phone…” you start, “can’t even tie your own tie…what are you going to have me do next Javi?”

As you’re rattling off his shortcomings your fingers are deftly working the fabric until it’s perfectly secure around his neck.

Your last question has him suck in an audible breath and when you meet his eyes they are intense with unspoken promise.

You tighten his tie with an abrupt push and then release him. You barely catch his “thanks” as he practically runs out of the building.

After packing up your things and heading to your car you decide to take a detour before going home. It’s been a long day and a bite to eat and maybe a drink at the nearby bar will do you some good.

It’s still early enough that when you walk into the dimly lit space there are a lot of open stools at the bar. You park yourself at the far end check out the daily specials.

It isn’t until you’re about to take the first sip of your drink that you feel the weight of his gaze. You make a subtle turn and meet the familiar dark brown eyes of Javi.

He blatantly stares, his lips hovering just above the rim of the glass of amber liquid dangling from his hand.

Your eyes shift to Steve who gives you a head tilt and a smile. You return it before looking back at Javi.

You had no idea they’d be here and they’re most likely working a case so rather than expose them or yourself you turn your attention back to the bar.

The feel of his eyes endures and even though you can’t see him you can still feel the way his body pressed against you as he held you by his desk. The way he smelled. The feel of his skin on yours. It sends a shiver down your spine even as your body heats up.

A group of young men enter the bar in a cacophony of loud voices and scuffling feet. They find a space in the middle of the bar and you study them out of the corner of your eye.

It doesn’t take long for one of them to notice you and send you a flirty smile. You quickly turn away, uninterested.

Before your food comes out you decide to take a bathroom break and slide off the stool and move toward the darkened hallway.

The same guy from before catches your eye and blatantly watches as you walk by, making some inaudible comment to his friend.

You quickly glance at Javi to see his jaw set tightly and his knuckles white as he grips his glass, his own eyes following your every move.

As you disappear around the corner you don’t even hear the footsteps and when you’re whirled around and backed into the wall you almost let out a scream of terror but a familiar hand covers your mouth.

When your eyes meet his you deflate and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away.

“Javi,” you whisper shout, your eyes flashing angrily. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“You need to leave,” he says.

Stealing yourself you stand up straighter and square your shoulders.

“No. I don’t. I don’t have to do anything,” you argue.

“Angel,” Javi pleads, the term of endearment melting your fury instantly. “Please.”

“I was about to have my dinner,” you explain weakly. “Why don’t you want me here.”

Your eyes fall to the ground.

You know why but you want to hear him say it. You want him to tell you it’s because you’re not safe and he wants to protect you.

His fingers touch the soft skin of your jaw, guiding your chin up and your eyes back to his. The calloused pad of his thumb brushes back and forth as his mouth opens to speak.

But footsteps along the creaky floor alert you that someone’s coming and Javi’s body tenses, his eyes filling with worry for a split second before he kisses you.

It isn’t a soft and sweet kiss. No more gentle caresses, no slow tasting. He kisses you like he’s done it a hundred times before and you’re his to kiss.

Your hands reflectively lift to his chest, and for a second he thinks you might push him away, but instead, your hands curl around his tie and you pull him closer, holding him in place.

His head angles to taste more of you, needing more, and he nips your bottom lip when you don’t give in. Your surprised gasp is all the advantage he needs to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

You melt for him, meeting his intensity without restraint. He pushes you harder against the unyielding wall and your arms slide up and around his neck. He rocks his hips and you moan into his mouth.

He swallows the sound, desperate to hear it again and again.

“Ahem,” a too-close voice says.

Steve.

You startle and Javi jumps, your mouth leaving his as you follow the sound.

“Sorry to break up the party,” Steve smirks. “But we need to move.”

“How long were you standing there watching,” Jave grits out, giving Steve a thunderous glare.

Steve’s hands lift in surrender. “I just got here. Those first footsteps you heard were from one of the targets. Looked like they were going to follow her back here but you beat him to it. Thankfully. Good cover too.”

At Steve’s last added words your face heats and you press your fingers to your swollen and tingling lips.

Javi nods. A simple agreement and dismissal. Steve nods back at Javi then smiles warmly at you before he turns on his heels and heads back.

“You need to leave,” Javi says again, his hand now resting along the wall by the side of your head.

“That’s it? I’m just supposed to leave?” you counter, unable to quell your sassiness when it comes to him.

He sighs dramatically. “Angel…you heard Steve. Just go. He’ll will make sure you get to your car safely.”

You study his face, tracing his features with your eyes and unable to resist the feel of his skin even in your disappointment at his obvious disregard. You lean in and press your lips to the corner of his mouth, the brush of his mustache making you tingle all over.

With that you slip from his hold, keeping your head high as you walk away and go to grab your things, thankful when Steve subtly acknowledges you and makes sure you get safely to your car.

The next morning Javi doesn’t leave his office at all and you sit just outside and stew, replaying every moment of the kiss. When lunch time comes and goes you can’t take it anymore and knock hard on his door.

“Yeah,” you hear from the other side before you push it open and find him seated at his desk, his forehead creased in thought.

“You missed lunch,” you state.

He grunts in acknowledgment and goes back to his papers.

Your hands land on your hips and you step into his office, slamming the door shut.

“So that’s it?”

“What?” he answers.

“You’re just going to pretend like it didn’t happen?”

“Like what didn’t happen?” he shoots back.

“Don’t you dare!” you shout and point a finger at him. “Was it really all just a cover?”

He stands with such force that his chair flies backward and hits the wall with a thud.

Instead of answering he let’s out a frustrated grunt and runs a hand through his already mussed hair.

Somehow it looks better than before and you inwardly curse him out for being so sexy.

“What?” he says as you continue to stare.

You inhale sharply, holding his gaze while you hold your breath.

With unsteady steps you move forward until your close enough to smell him.

“I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that kiss didn’t mean anything to you.”

At your challenging words he clamps his mouth shut. But his eyes say everything and before the moment is gone you reach up and trace your fingers over the fresh cut above his eyebrow.

The feeling of your fingers on his skin makes him exhale softly.

“It’s fine,” he whispers.

“It looks like it hurts. What happened last night?”

“Nothing for you to worry about angel.”

“I’m sorry if I made any trouble for you…”

Your voice trails off, and you look up at him with questioning eyes. Wordlessly you slide your fingertips down the line of his jaw and he leans into your touch.

He turns into your hand and presses a gentle kiss to your palm.

Your name falls from his lips, more of a sound than a word, a rough growl deep in his throat. He looks as if he wants to say more but with one swift movement he has you pressed against the edge of his desk, caging you in with his arms and either side.

You gasp and he captures the sound with a kiss. And not just any kiss. A kiss that steals the breath from your lungs. A kiss that rivals the one from last night. Fiery. Desperate. And very, very real.

@lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena narcos #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x y/n #pedro pascal characters #enemies to lovers

[your-highnessmarvel]

So Much Paperwork

Requested by Anonymous: can you do one with avenger!reader and bucky and they get like either captured by hydra or locked in a room and there sex pollen and they don’t want to get dirty because they’re friends but… eventually they do? ❤️❤️❤️ if you’re not comfortable with this it’s ok!

AN: i’ve never written sex pollen before so bare with me! this is a heeellll of a ride LMMMAAOOOO this is going to spruce up my Bucky masterlist LETS GO

Warnings: smut (oral f!receiving, hand job, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, praising, biting), sex pollen, dub!con action, language, mentions of HYDRA

*gif not mine

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

Request Guidelines

MASTERLIST

When Cap had said it was just a Hydra base, you hadn’t expected to enter a motherlode of enemy information. Opening that vault was like finding a cave filled with gold - every inch of the vault was brimming with sensitive Hydra files, all dog-eared, marked up, or highlighted. 

Bucky insisted on going through each and everyone of them. He had you open up each file cabinet, sift through each file, pick out the most interesting of them all, and place them by the door. Thank God you could read German. 

“Look at this one,” he called from the other side of the vault, far off in the corner. 

You were examining a file on something Hydra called Experiment 4H7, Phase 4. You let the file go before even reading the subject of the experiment and made your way towards Bucky. 

He was wearing his familiar all black outfit, the metal arm a stark silver against the vault’s gold and his suit’s black. He looked over his metal shoulder as you approached. 

“I’m guessing they’re keeping more red rooms in Ukraine,” he stated, showing you the file. There were a number of pictures of young girls varying from blondes to brunets to red heads, all different heights, all different shades of skin tones. 

“Yup,” you sighed, pointing to a line in the file. “That’s a graduate class, I’m guessing, look at that.” You pointed to the German word for Graduation and felt a deep pinch in your belly. These poor women. Unaware that they would be stripped of their rights, of what made them woman. 

You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. “I think we should just leave with what’s by the door?”

You stepped back, feeling the tile beneath your booted heel give and fall an inch lower. A metallic sound, like two gears churning to work, echoed loudly in the vault, and slowly, the vault door started shutting. 

“It’s a boobytrap!” Bucky yelled, dropping the file and running to the door, his metallic hand out to stop it.

“Did I step on a mine?” you yelled back, panic gripping every nerve in your body. 

It felt like time slowed as you looked over your shoulder, soft strands of hair slicking against the sweat on your cheek. You saw Bucky arrive at the door when it had but a few inches left to go, jamming his metal fingers between the closing door and the oval frame.

Every beat of your heart burned as you watched his face flush red, veins in his neck pulsing as he struggled to keep the door just a slight inch open. 

And then, overhead, a quiet squirting sound. You felt tiny pinpricks of water touch your cheek and you looked up. 

“Bucky.” But his name was lost to the sound of him groaning, grunting, heels sliding against the cement floor, sweat forming on his upper lip - all to keep the door from closing. “Bucky!”

When he looked back at you, the vault door closed with a deafening boom. 

“Y/N, don’t breathe in!” he gasped, retrieving his fingers form the door, panting as he made his way towards you. 

“Too late,” you said, feeling the minuscule dots of water dampen the inside of your nose, your lips, your tongue. It tasted so sweet. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, bending to your rest his hand on your boot, the one still pressed on the loose tile. “Y/N, I don’t think it’s a mine.”

You shivered, something achy climbing its way up your spine, burying deep in your belly. “Why?” you asked, closing your eyes as you felt his metal fingers clamp hard over your booted ankle. 

“Because,” he answered. “This was just the trigger for the door.”

You sighed. “Of course, I’m the dumbass who triggers the trap.”

“No worries, doll,” he said with a chuckle, and that nickname, that chuckle, made something sticky and thick slide down your belly, settling comfortably between your legs. Oh no. 

“How do we get out?” you asked, finally moving away from the tile as Bucky stood. You met his eyes, towering over you, and your skin suddenly flashed so hot that you feared he could see the heat fuming off your flesh. You sighed, an excuse to get air into your lungs, to fan out the heat invading your bones. 

He frowned, bent over to get on eye level with you. “Fuck,” he spat, walking towards the door. 

“What?” you asked, suddenly feeling your throat stick, parched, thick with saliva all at once. “Bucky, what’s happening?” You’d wanted your voice to sound panicky, but somehow, it came out... breathy. Like a purr. 

Bucky bashed his metal fist into the vault door, but the thing only echoed the sound back, not even denting, not even screeching. 

“Fuck!” Bucky yelled, raking his flesh hand through his short, cropped hair. 

He looked at you over the expanse of the vault, just a few meters apart, and something inside you ached, like an intense burn that made the fabric of your suit hurt against your skin, feel like hot iron against your nipples, the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh. 

God, you needed to get out of this suit. But not here. 

“How long until Cap comes for us?” you asked, falling to your knees, heat blasting from your knees to your scalp as you found the floor. Maybe it was cold. 

Bucky didn’t answer. He watched you fall flat to the ground, press your heated, sweaty cheek to the floor, chasing any kind of relief from this mounting pain, this heat. 

He gritted his teeth and took a step back. 

“What’s happening?” you asked again, rolling onto your back. The floor was but a brief relief of the heat, of the pain burning harshly under your skin. You closed your sweaty lids, scrapped your nails against your damp hairline. When had you gotten so sweaty? 

You reached up to the zipper of your one-piece suit, ready to tug it down. 

“Y/N, don’t.” Bucky’s voice, usually comforting, friendly, guiding - now sounded like a wolfish demand, a famished lion salivating at the sight of bleeding prey. 

You breathed in harshly, suddenly, your mind shifting the narrative of who Bucky was to you in a split second. A heartbeat before, Bucky was your superior, your friend who’d been nothing but a guiding force through your life - taking you from the depths of fear and desperation to acceptance. He’d brought you to the Avengers, to Cap and Nat, to a team of people like you - misfits who fit together. 

But now. Now the Bucky you knew was shadowed by this new grumbling, groaning wolf. 

“It hurts,” you panted, eyes still closed. You reached up anyway and undid your zipper, opening your suit down to your bellybutton, like slicing open a piece of meat. 

You heard something fleshy hit the floor, and you opened your eyes, looking back. It hurt to scrape your head against the cement, but you saw Bucky on his knees there, looking at you with something dark and hungry glazing over his eyes. 

Your eyes fell back to the ceiling above you, and you opened your suit up, arching off the cement in search of air. Your skin was pebbled with sweat, scorched to the touch. 

“If you expose more skin,” Bucky panted, and you realized that he was closer, almost breathing into your ear. “I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

“What’s happening?” you asked, for the millionth time, feeling an ache start to build dangerously fast in your cunt, throbbing, burning, slicking down your thighs with every beat of your heart. Every rush of blood in your veins was pain, every throb in your hole like a searing demand, an ache insatiable. Even when you wiggled, even when you groaned, clamping your thighs together, turning to your side and trying to find friction.  

Your clit was a pained, throbbing mess. 

“Doll,” Bucky breathed, and God, that sent another wave of hurt coursing down your spine, snapping in your blood like lightning. You could feel your pussy slick even more at the utter wretchedness of his voice.  

You groaned. Shaking your head. “No,” you whined. “Not this.” You’d heard about this - this experiment on something Hydra called sex pollen. They’d first used it in their breeding program they’d started during the second world war, when they wanted more Aryan children. They’d perfected it during the Cold War, and started manufacturing it for breeding camps they’d scattered across barren wastelands to produce more Hydra pawns. And now, they were using it as chemical warfare. 

“Bucky, no,” you whined, feeling hot, steaming tears wet your cheeks. You couldn’t do this. Bucky was your friend, your boss even. He was 7 years older than you (although he was technically like, 109 years old, but still). You were a rookie and he, your training officer. Your were his student and he was your professor. This was wrong on so many levels. “How much time does this last?” you asked, shivering, feeling another nauseating wave of need pulse through you. 

“I’m... I’m not sure,” he said, struggling to say each word. Like air was unknown to his lungs. Like he was fighting every instinct in his bones. 

But just the sound of his voice was enough to make another wave of excruciating pain wash through you, making you groan and wiggle against the floor. That ache in your clit intensified, pulsed painfully.

“Make it stop,” you murmured. “It hurts... so much.”

There was a second of silence until you heard the telltale sound of fabric rustling. Just the thought of Bucky naked, even an inch of skin available to your hungry eyes, made your cunt clench on nothing and you groaned in pain again. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he said. “There’s only one way to make it stop.”

You shook your head, shivering. “No.”

Your heart stuttered as another wash of hot, molten lava scorched through your veins and this time, you sobbed, teeth clenching. 

“You can die, y/n,” Bucky whimpered and this time, his voice was right there, above you, a hand skimming across your thigh. 

You made a whimpering sound at the feel of his hand, even the slightest touch like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over your head. 

You opened your eyes and through tear-stained lashed and heavy lids, you looked back, seeing Bucky hunched over you, shirtless and sweating and with nothing but pain in those dark blue eyes of his. 

He bit his lip, meeting your eyes, and he nodded slowly. 

At this point, your entire body was shivering, sweaty, heating to the point that you thought your body would shut down. 

“Let me help,” he said, wretched, rough. 

When he applied the entire weight of his hand on your hip, it was like a lightning bolt had exploded under your skin. A moan ripped from your throat, utterly wrecked and rough and gone. 

Bucky said something but it was lost to the smoke in your head. He pulled down the rest of your suit, exposing hardened nipples to the air, but it still wasn’t cold enough. You wiggled your hips as he dragged the rest of the fabric down your body, to your legs until he was chucking off your boots and leaving you in nothing but your underwear. 

“Doll,” he rasped, pressing his fingers to your ankles, gently scraping up until he was resting both hands on the inside of your soft, plush thighs. “You’re soaked.”

You groaned, panting on the floor, feeling sticky, achy, and on fire. You pressed your hips forward, searching, searching. “Bucky, please.”

“Jesus, forgive me,” he groaned, and when you opened your eyes to meet the white lights above, he pressed a kiss to your clothed clit and you moaned salaciously.

One hand instinctively gripped at the roots of his brown hair, pulling him ever closer. The other clawed at the arm that came to rest over your tummy. 

A sharp, bruising knot formed in your tummy when he used one finger to move your thong to the side and he pressed a warm, wet kiss to your bare pussy. 

“Fuck, Bucky.” It came as a breath, like this was the first fresh, real breath you’d taken in years. 

He groaned against your skin, the vibrations dribbling up your belly, up your spine. Your toes curled as he gave his first few strokes of his tongue, long and harsh, like he was at a watering hole after days of being parched. 

“You taste like heaven, kitten,” he murmured, flattening his tongue against your clit and stroking it quickly, little flicks that sent your spine arching, your eyes closing, toes curling against his back. 

He gripped your hips in both hands, digging in to his meal, each stroke of his tongue like a spark against your clit. 

Your first orgasm wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to quench the heat, to cool the fire raging in your belly. Like a monstrous black wave, the pollen kept your senses awaken. 

“Bucky, again,” you whined, closing your thighs against his head, guiding his mouth back to your hole. He kept licking, sucking against your clit. 

Your second orgasm was like a temporary wash of relief. You smiled against each wave, hips stuttering against Bucky’s mouth. 

“It won’t be enough,” he said, voice wrecked, as he kissed up your thighs, igniting another wave of harsh, hot lava to drip from your belly into your clit. You whined. “I know,” he cooed, his eyes glazed as he hovered over you. When you met his gaze, you could see that he was fighting his own seams, that he was just as fragile and wanting and needing as you were. 

You reached between your bodies, skimming your nails down his hard chest, hearing the faint groan that left his lips. You patted down his belly, down until your hand wrapped around the impossibly hard, thick bulge in his suit pants. 

He bowed forward, sighing, moaning as you felt him out. Something like confidence, dark cunning, invaded your senses like a drug. 

“I need to be inside you so bad, y/n,” he groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder. Just the weight of his body on your chest, feeling his heat, his every breath, every tremble of his fingers as he clawed at your bare hip, your plush thighs, made you tremble with need. 

Hurriedly, he pressed away from you, pushing down his pants until his drooling, hard cock sprang free. He let it flop against your belly, groaning at the feeling, and when you met his eyes, he was nothing but a feral, hungry wolf. 

He claimed your mouth in a sudden, voracious kiss, tasting yourself on his lips as he ground into you. Delving his tongue passed your teeth, nipping at your bottom lip, breathing life into you with every stroke of his tongue against yours. 

You gripped his shaft slowly, feeling the velvety skin, stroking him in slow, languid movements of your wrist. Your other hand found his hair, pushing his mouth closer to yours, kissing him with fervour and need. His own hands cupped your head, positioned you the way he wanted. 

Then his metal fingers closed over your knee, hooking your leg over his hips, and he pulled away form your mouth in a wet, sloppy pop. He breathed, calming himself, but with you clawing at his shoulders, bringing him closer, hands stroking his dick quickly, he couldn’t stop himself. Even if he wanted to. Even if, deep down, in the dark, almost forgotten corners of his mind, he knew this was wrong, wrong, wrong - he wanted to lose himself in you. Just your taste wasn’t enough. Two of your orgasms against his lips wasn’t enough. Kissing you like he’d dreamed of doing so many times in his wet dreams - all of it wasn’t enough. 

He fell to one forearm, bringing his mouth to your ear. Your hand still slicking against him. Your mouth kissing against his neck, up his jaw. Your other hand digging nails into the hard muscle of his tricep. Your hot, wet thigh pressed against his bare hip. 

“I’m going to fuck you, y/n,” he grunted against your ear. 

You nodded, pushing your hips up, towards him. He pulled away from your stroking hand and you felt his tip press at your wet entrance. He shivered when he thrust the tip in, feeling your hole give in to him. 

You gasped as he slid in slowly. Now was when you realized just how big he was. How thick and unforgiving his cock was as he stretched your walls, impaling himself into you inch by inch. 

It was a painful stretch that made your knees tremble, gripping onto his shoulders for dear fucking life. 

“So tight,” he whispered against your ear. “Were you waiting for me, doll?”

His voice was like a sin committed in church. 

You whimpered when he pushed in completely, seating himself to the root, until every inch of him was pressed up against you. 

“Did you save this pussy for me, huh, kitten?” he rasped, pulling back and thrusting in slowly. He groaned, bowing forward. “So wet, doll, I can feel you dripping all over me.”

Who knew Bucky could be this filthy with his mouth. It made your body snap like a rubberband. 

He kissed up your throat, giving you shallow, quick strokes until he could feel your gummy walls relax and when he knew you were ready, he rutted against you like a dog gone mad. 

He gripped your hip, thrusting into you until your body was numb, your walls clenching against him, a pressure building just under your bellybutton. 

“Bucky,” you whined, sobbed, as he kept hitting that spot in you that made sparks dance along your spine.

“I can feel you, doll,” he grunted, teeth biting into your shoulder. “Come on, darlin’, you’re almost there.”

Your mouth opened in a small ‘o’, spine arching off the floor, adding to the pressure against his dick as your walls clenched impossibly tight against him, fluttering, buzzing, until your orgasm exploded through your flesh like a bomb of sparks and fireworks. 

You fell back to the floor, spine loose against the cement, your orgasm spinning through your blood as he kept rutting into you, chasing his own relief. 

You weakly grabbed onto his shoulders, pressed your face against his shoulder. “Fuck me, Bucky,” you pleaded. “Fuck me like I know you’ve always wanted to.” Your voice was so small, so wrecked from him, and it drove him crazy, drilling into you without rhythm. 

“So filthy, my doll,” he cooed, groaning when he heard you moan against his flesh. 

He fell onto you so suddenly, robbing you of air as he ground against you, chasing his own high. And after a few sloppy, shallow thrusts, you felt his cum inside you, his seed filling every inch of your gummy walls until he was dripping out of you and onto the cement. 

He breathed roughly, panting, gasping against your shoulder. And suddenly, his harsh hands became gentle on your cooling skin, stroking slowly against your waist. 

Your heart slowed, numbness filling you up like a dark, tentative wave. You were finally, finally cooling down, at peace, no more pain or ache or desire making every one of your movements excruciating. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” Bucky panted quietly, his face still hidden in your shoulder. “I never intended us to do... this.”

You shook your head. But no words formed in your mind, no coherent thought even took place as you just lay there, enjoying his weight, his heat. 

“We can’t stay here,” he said. He was so quiet, so gentle. He helped you get dressed in your soiled, cold suit. He zipped you up, did his best to smooth down your hair, tried to get as much of his cum off the floor with his boot. No use. 

When he got up and tucked himself back in his pants, tugging them over his hips, you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your lips. 

“We’re going to be in so much trouble, Bucky,” you said, almost like if you laughed about it, it wasn’t that bad, right?

He sighed, shaking his head. “Just...” he hesitated, putting his shirt back on. “I couldn’t watch you suffer like that.”

You nodded. 

“Cap will come get us,” he continued, almost reassuringly. “We’ll get some rest... shower too, and then we’ll talk about what’s next.”

You leaned against the wall, so tired, so fucked out that nothing else seemed even remotely satisfying except your bed. 

“What’s next is a lot of fucking paperwork, Buck.”

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky smut #sex pollen #buckyxyou #buckyxreader #smut #buckyxy/n #buckyxyn #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x yn #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader smut #marvel #bucky sex pollen

[homicidal-slvt]

COD Incorrect Quotes

-

Y/N: My hands are cold.

Ghost, holding their hands: Better?

Y/N: .... My tits are cold too.

Ghost: ....

-

Alejandro: What the fuck is wrong with you?!?

Y/N, whipping out a thick ass stack of files: I'm so glad you asked!!!

-

Rudy: Why does it seem like whenever I'm around you I have a near death experience....?

Y/N, covered in blood after deciding to just knife every enemy spotted: No idea.

-

Price: What the fuck did you just say to me?

Graves, looking over at Y/N: Help...

Y/N: Sorry- I'm the crazy one.

-

Gaz, trying to cook some toast: Wow... Today is pretty peaceful.

Gaz: .....

Gaz, realizing: Where's Y/N and Soap?!?

-

Laswell: God... I need a break.

*She opens the lower kitchen cabinets to find Y/N and Roach stuffed in there*

Y/N: Shh. We're having a secret meeting.

Laswell: ....Yep, definitely need a break.

-

Alex, on the phone with Farah: Heh.. yeah.

Y/N, tapping his shoulder: Psst... Can I say something?

Alex: Huh? Oh yeah. Someone wants to say hi, Farah!

Y/N, eagerly snatching the phone: Hey, Alex's girlfriend!!!!

Alex, embarrassed: No no no-

Farah, on the other end amused: Hey, Y/N.

-

{More Content}

#cod incorrect quotes #mw2 incorrect quotes #cod mw2 incorrect quotes #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #kyle gaz garrick #john price #cod #captain john price #kyle garrick #john soap mactavish #kate laswell #kyle 'gaz' garrick #simon 'ghost' riley #captain price #alejandro vargas #alex keller #rodolfo parra #phillip graves #john 'soap' mactavish #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #call of duty incorrect quotes #vee's incorrect quotes #gary sanderson #gary roach sanderson #gary 'roach' sanderson #farah karim

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

The Light Behind Your Eyes

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader Task Force 141 X Platonic!F!Reader

“Gave us quite a scare, darling, try not to do that again, that’s an order.” Price’s laugh was thick and wet, clearing his throat to try and help stop the tears. “Not allowed to leave us just yet there sweetheart, not until you’re old and gray.” Gaz knew you could hear their jokes, even if they fell somewhat flat.

a/n:ahhhhh! this is thanks to my amazing friend @gaylemonshark fuel my angst filled heart, this was probably the angstiest thing I've written in a while! warnings:mentions of blood, wounds, near death experiences, blood loss, broken bones, it's a total angst fest

It was supposed to be an easy mission, get the intel and get it back to base so that Laswell can analyze it. None of you had been expecting the firefight that greeted you the moment the helicopter landed. Price had taken the lead, Ghost running alongside him as they did their best to take out any enemies that were within eyesight. They’d managed to get more than half, laying low to check ammo and make sure that everyone was alright. A sniper had nearly taken Soap out, you had tackled him to the ground when you noticed the little dot resting on his shirt.

He’d thanked you quickly before firing back his own shot, successfully taking out the sniper that had been firing at your group. Price had sent you, Ghost, and Soap into the building to retrieve any important information while he and Gaz scoured the area. It was unnervingly quiet as you scoured for any documents, or hard drives that you could snag.

“I don’t like this, it seems too easy.” Ghost was on edge, and that wasn’t something he felt often.

“It’ll be alright, we’ll get what we need and meet back up with Price.” You pushed open the door to your left, jaw dropped as you took in the amount of filing cabinets.

Shit, this was going to be a lot more difficult with the amount of information you’d be sorting through now. Shouldering your gun, you started pulling open different drawers to see if any of them held any important documents you needed. You pulled out any files with names that stuck out and laid them down on the table behind you. The stack stayed relatively small, which surprised you. Ghost and Soap were still in the main area, scoping every corner to look for any stragglers that might’ve been hanging around.

You’d been so in your head you hadn’t noticed the man slipping out of the closet closest to you, gun raised. The sound of the safety is what caught your attention, spinning around to face him.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Your body was thrown back against the filing cabinets, pain spreading throughout your body like a wildfire. Ghost slammed into the room, knife wedged into the kids throat before he could even react. You pressed your hands against your thigh, and abdomen, wincing at the blood seeping through your fingers.

“We need evac!” Soap threw himself down beside you, hoisting you into his arms as gently as he could.

“Get her outside, now.” Ghost wanted the man at his feet to suffer, but he’d already bled out in the few minutes it took them to gather the files and get you outside.

You couldn’t keep your eyes open, eyes half lidded as you struggled to take in your surroundings. Price was barking out orders, more concerned with keeping you safe and alive than getting the information back. How could they have let someone slip through their fingers and get to you? It wasn’t until they’d placed you in the heli that the pain seemed to really set in. Ghost’s hands were pressed against your thigh, Johnny cutting off your tac vest to get to the wound in your abdomen. 

“Make it stop!” Your throat felt raw with the guttural scream you let out.

The pain was unbearable, and this wasn’t the first time you’d been shot before. There would always be wounds, times where someone wasn’t quick enough to warn you. This? This was hell incarnated. Your body was turning cold, fingertips and lips turning blue as your heart rate plummeted. Soap and Ghost watched as the heart monitor flatlined, your body limp on the bed in front of them.

“Goddamnit! Open your eyes!” Price was screaming above the sound of the helicopter blades, frantic.

Price threw off his gloves, beginning CPR as they hooked up another blood transfusion. If they weren’t able to get your wounds to stop bleeding they wouldn’t be able to save you. Gaz’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking, pressing more gauze against the angry wound on your thigh.

“You better come back or so help me.” Price’s voice cracked with each press of his hand.

The subtle beep of the heart monitor relaxed him for only a second before he shifted to help get the bleeding to stop. They needed to get you somewhere where a doctor could help take care of you, now. Soap’s hands were shaking as he pressed another wad of gauze against your abdomen, they couldn’t lose you.

“Stay with us darling.” Gaz began to thread a needle, glad the bleeding had slowed for the few precious seconds he had.

You didn’t so much as flinch as the needle made contact with your skin, they only had so long before you bled out and lost the battle your body was fighting. Gaz worked as quickly as his hands, and your body, allowed him to. He glanced over to Ghost when he finished stitching the smaller of the two wounds. Ghost’s hands were covered in your blood, sinking into the cracks that adorned his flesh.

“Lift your hands, I need to close the wound.” Gaz wasn’t sure where the medic was, but right now he was downright pissed they hadn’t been nearby.

Ghost didn’t want to move, to watch you die in front of his eyes. It was all his fault anyway, he hadn’t noticed the man slip into the room and shoot you. He’d been too distracted checking the other rooms, checking each corridor carefully. Gaz worked quicker with the wound on your leg, knowing they’d need to cut the stitches to get the bullets out back at base. Right now all he cared about was making sure that you stayed alive.

“We’re almost there darling, just keep holding on.” Price grabbed your hand, noticing how limp your hand was in his own.

They all sat around you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly, keeping an eye on the heart monitor they’d hooked you up to. The hospital felt too far away, how could they have not arrived yet? 

“Landing now, brace yourselves.” Nikolai knew he had to be gentle, or at least as gentle as he could be while landing a helicopter.

Your body jostled for a brief moment as they finally landed, the doors sliding open as Ghost and Soap started to yank off the IV’s and heart monitor. It wasn’t the safest thing to do considering the state you were in, but goddamnit they needed you to get inside. Ghost slipped out of the helicopter first, grabbing the end of the gurney closest to him. Soap helped slide the gurney out before grabbing the opposite end. They ran into the hospital, screaming for any doctor or nurse that was willing to listen. No one seemed scared or phased by the two, rushing over to take the gurney you were lying on.

Ghost knew his mask was wet, tears streaking down his cheeks as he watched the doors to the operating room swing closed. Soap was no better, chest shuddering as he tried, and failed, to keep his composure. Gaz and Price made their way in slowly, they’d known where you were, and now it was a waiting game.

1 Hour

2 Hours

3 Hours

4 Hours

5 Hours

6 Hours

7 Hours

8 Hours

That’s how long you’d been in surgery, eight fucking torturous hours while the team waited to see if you would even make it out alive. The surgeon had walked out slowly, surgical gown covered in your blood. Soap’s heart sunk, they’d been too late, you were gone.

“We were able to stop the bleeding and get them stable. Unfortunately there’s going to be a long road of recovery ahead, they have five broken ribs on top of the gun wounds.” Price nearly burst into tears at that moment, thankful you’d survived, but horrified at how much worse things were.

“Thank you doctor, is there any chance we can see them?” He wouldn’t push if they said no, your health was number one priority right now.

“Yes, but be advised they probably won’t be awake just yet.” She gave them the room number before heading off to strip off the reminder of what she’d just had to do.

Price and Gaz took off like rockets, eager to prove to themselves that you did in fact make it out of surgery. Soap was much slower to follow, Ghost staying rooted to where he was until Soap had made it to your room. Price was sitting at your bedside, both hands gently cupping one of your own. No one would ever mention the tears that were sliding down the captain's face, soaking into the beard on his cheeks. No one would say anything about how these normally stoic and strong men were brought to their knees knowing you were only clinging to life.

“Gave us quite a scare, darling, try not to do that again, that’s an order.” Price’s laugh was thick and wet, clearing his throat to try and help stop the tears.

“Not allowed to leave us just yet there sweetheart, not until you’re old and gray.” Gaz knew you could hear their jokes, even if they fell somewhat flat.

Soap couldn’t go into your room, couldn’t see you knowing that he still had a chance of truly losing you. You two were thick as thieves, pulling pranks on everyone at base, except for Price of course. He’d welcomed you to the team with open arms, saying he was happy there was someone new he could talk to. Price had told him, in no other terms, that you would still need to befriend all of them. You’d done so within a week, getting to know everyone and seeing how they worked best. It gave you an idea of how they would be in the field, who to stick with for which missions, and who worked better alone.

Ghost was someone that was a little harder to crack, you didn’t want to pry into someone who was clearly trying to stay hidden. Everyone had a past, it came with the territory, but knowing that he was working so hard gave you the push to not push. It took him nearly six months before he opened up to you, telling you everything. It had shocked you, not only because Ghost didn’t trust anyone whatsoever, but that he told you everything about his past. His traumas that had sunk so deep they were embedded into his very being. His soul had been tainted by the actions of other people, something he would never be able to clean.

The first time he’d taken off his mask in front of you was also the first night you’d kissed him. He’d let slip that his body wasn’t the only thing that barred scars, that he had to keep his face hidden to hide the horrors. You had whispered that scars made a person who they were, that with or without them, that person was still beautiful. It was the scar extending from just next to his nose, through his lips, down to his chin. 

In a way it was beautiful, this man who had killed to keep himself alive had a constant reminder of what happened to him. He’d never let it win, never let the horrors of his past be what tore him apart until he succumbed to death. You cupped his cheeks gently, lips pressing softly against his. You could barely feel the scar beneath your own lips, hands sliding so they were gently cradling the back of his neck. Ghost had also told you his real name that night, Simon Riley. You giggled and told him both his callsign, and his real name suited him. Though you had been a little shocked to find out that he had been a blonde.

“I show you my face for the first time, and your biggest gripe is my hair?” It was a soft blonde, a ting of yellow running through the tips.

“I honestly thought you’d be a brunette, pretty brown eyes and all.” You oh so gently gripped the base of his hair, straddling his thighs carefully.

“Ma thought so too, unfortunately my daddy was a blonde.” Ah, of course, men tended to take after their dads.

“Well, I still think you’re very attractive, blonde hair and all.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, sighing into it as Simon’s hands squeezed your thighs.

“She’s gonna be alright, I swear on it.” Soap wasn’t going to lose his best friend, he’d sell his own soul to the devil to fight it if need be.

Ghost couldn’t bear to look at you, to see how lifeless you looked after everything you’d been put through. He turned and stormed off, boots echoing in the nearly empty halls. Anyone who knew him would know he could walk in even the loudest shoes silently. Even with you being so close to death Ghost was still being considerate of those around him. You would joke about how often he scared you, how someone of his size and stature shouldn’t be silent. It was a habit he’d picked up after promising not to scare you anymore

Gaz had thanked you immensely for it, saying how he’d nearly pissed himself on a few occasions because Ghost had slipped into the room unnoticed. You’d played a few pranks with him, mainly scaring Soap and Gaz, or even new recruits that got too cocky. Even if he hadn’t been their superior the man was still intimidating. He never did it to you again though, ignoring your chances to try and ask why he’d stopped. It wasn’t because you’d asked nicely, or that Soap had told him one day that it kind of bothered you. No. It was simply because he truly felt comfortable around you. It had been so long that he didn’t feel as if he had to have the impenetrable walls up, ready to let you in.

He was going to tell you he’d loved you, wanted to wait until you were safe back at the base, but then he’d be the exact fucking reason you were here. Ghost was a lot of things, but an idiot was not one of them. He could spot an enemy without so much as glancing at them at times, so how had this one slipped by? He would’ve heard their shoes stepping on the broken glass that was scattered around. Or had this person already been in the room, hoping you had been one of them instead?

The had chilled slightly as he stepped outside, reaching into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he’d brought with him. You had jokingly teased him about how they would kill him before any enemy could. And well, he’d actually laughed at that, because he kind of hoped the cigarettes would kill him first, then he wouldn’t have to let you down. He would be by your side when he passed, but life had ulterior motives.

He hadn’t even realized the first stick was gone until he was halfway through smoking the second one. It was a horrible habit he couldn’t break, you didn’t mind that he smoked, but it was the chain smoking that seemed to get to you. It only happened when he was extremely overwhelmed, or was self destructing. Ghost didn’t want to let you down when it happened, but it was the only thing that ever seemed to truly calm him down. He’d wanted it to be you, to have you be the salve his soul desperately needed. Nearly half the pack was gone before he finally stopped, stubbing out the final cigarette in the small dish beside him. He wasn’t sure if that’s what it was meant for, but he wasn’t about to litter.

“She’s awake, asking for ya lt.” Soap was wringing his hands together, creased leather squeaking in the quiet night.

“Go ahead, I’ll be up later.” Ghost couldn’t see you yet, not when his mind was thinking of a million different ways he could still lose you.

“I’ll save you a chair.” Soap patted his shoulder gently, he knew the older man was too tense, but there wasn’t anything he could do.

The only thing they could hope for was that you would make it through these next few days with no issues. Gaz had told them right away he’d stitched you up, not wanting to waste any seconds until you were in safe hands. They told him you were lucky, that if he had waited even a moment too long you wouldn’t have survived. It was a reminder how fragile life truly was, that you could be gone at any second. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone that not seeing Ghost hurt more than you expected.

“Thank you, for everything.” You squeezed Gaz’s hand, smiling at the way his eyes teared up.

“Just wanted to keep my favorite sergeant alive and well.” Gaz patted the back of your hand, laying it down gently in your lap.

“We all know that’s Soap.” Your grin widened as Gaz scoffed, you couldn’t laugh lest you suffer in more pain.

Price couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped through his lips, he would laugh for you since you couldn’t do much besides lay in your bed. The three of you were unaware of Soap and Ghost standing outside the door, watching you. Soap could feel his heart quicken, seeing your eyes truly open and shining with a light he was afraid would slip away. Ghost’s hands were shaking, he wanted to kiss you like it was the last thing he’d do. Price was trying to keep you smiling, to keep the worry from settling in.

Ghost pushed every rational thought from his mind as he pushed the door open, standing at the foot of your bed before he could stop himself. You looked over at him, eyes wide as if you had forgotten he was on the mission with you as well.

“I love you. I absolutely fucking love you Y/N, and watching you nearly die today reminded me that I could’ve lost you before I got the chance to tell you.” Ghost’s chest was rising and falling harshly. You opened your mouth to speak before he held a hand up, effectively cutting you off.

“I’d never gotten as close to someone the way I did with you, you brought out a side of me I haven’t seen since..since before everything.” Ghost swallowed harshly, reaching up to pull off his mask.

You could see the way his cheeks were streaked with tears, the eyeblack he wore underneath smudged and missing in spots. This was someone who hadn’t even told his captain about his past for over two years, hiding away the darkness that sat within him. Here you were, an angel sent from heaven to watch over him. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you today, I will never forgive myself for letting you get hurt.” He dropped the mask onto the bed, hands wrapping around your ankles.

The room fell silent, the only sound being the heart monitor you had been hooked up to. Your heart hadn’t spiked at all, your breathing calm.

“I love you too Simon.” You wiggled your toes beneath the blanket, the tips of your toes pressing into his forearms.

The other three men would deny that they teared up at Ghost’s declaration of love, that they had all watched how much Ghost truly loved you. How he had slowly, oh so slowly, slipped out of his shell to show you who he was. He smiled down at you, the right side of his lip drooping ever so slightly due to his scar.

“‘M gonna go to bed now.” You carefully pulled the blanket higher up onto your chest, snuggling with the soft material.

Ghost let go of your ankles slowly, watching the way you slipped into slumber so effortlessly. Though he was positive it was also the pain meds being pumped into your body, easing away the burning ache that was surely running through you. Price led Gaz and Soap out of the room, telling the two men he’d get rooms close by so they could keep an eye on you. Ghost wouldn’t move, no matter what, not until you were allowed to leave with him.

_________

His dreams were plagued by your death, each one becoming more vivid than the last, your blood staining his skin. He could taste copper, the salty rusted tang that blood always seemed to have. Times where he was the one pulling the trigger, mistaking you for an enemy as he took your life. He couldn’t seem to wake up, no matter how loud he screamed for his unconscious mind to wake up. It wasn’t until your fingers slowly began to run through his hair that he awoke, chest shuddering and cracking as he broke down once more. His chest heaved with wracking painful sobs. How could you still want to be with him? How could you possibly love him after what he’d done to you?

“You know, I always thought you had a softer side to you, something that no one got to see because you kept it hidden away from the world. And I was right.” You curled your hand slightly, running your nails across his scalp.

“Better than you imagined?” It was how Ghost coped, with dry humor.

“It is, thank you for letting me see it.” You continued gently scratching his scalp, feeling the way he slowly relaxed.

You knew that Ghost kept himself closed off for a reason, it wasn’t your typical “I got hurt by an ex and now I’m afraid”. No, this was something that wouldn’t be brushed off with a few kind words and a long hug. He would never be able to live his life without a reminder of what happened to him. And instead of turning him away when he’d practically begged you to, you smiled at him, and pulled him close to you. It was that day that you knew you were in love with him, but it wasn’t the time to voice those thoughts.

“Do you ever think about what happens after we die? If there truly is a heaven or a hell? Or if we reincarnate into new people?” You’d never given it much thought growing up, but this right here? This was a reminder that you were only human, and that life could be gone in the blink of an eye.

“Sometimes, stopped believin’ in all ‘at when I was a kid.” Ghost wouldn’t admit it had been when he was barely five years old.

No one wanted to be with someone that struggled to look at themselves in a mirror, to be reminded of the man that had beaten him so badly as a child. He was angry he’d grown to look like his father, save for his eyes, those belonged to his mother. The only thing he ever had left of her were his eyes. 

“I hope they have your eye color.” You slid your fingers down, grazing the edge of his jaw.

He sat up slowly, brow furrowed as he stared at you in the bed, did he hear you correctly or was he finally losing it?

“Excuse me?” Ghost’s jaw dropped open, your face was clear, so you were actually serious.

“I hope that our kids have your eyes, they’re this gorgeous shade of brown, like trees during fall in Massachusetts.” You’d spent quite a long time there, reveling in the colors when fall came around each year.

Ghost didn’t think before surging forward, pressing his lips roughly against your own, hands sliding back and gripping onto the roots of your hair. You grabbed onto his forearms, putting every ounce of strength you had into the kiss. Simon was the only man you’d willingly spend the rest of your life with, no matter how long or short that time might be.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley angst #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #angst #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod mwii #call of duty #ghost mw2 #mw2 #call of duty mw2 #blood #gore #cw gore

[tranquil-ivy]

𝔹𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕒 𝔾𝕠𝕠𝕕 ℝ𝕦𝕟 [𝔼𝕟𝕕]

DI!Leon Kennedy x Reader

Summary: Leon finally wakes up...

Words: 1.5k

Content Warning: kinda Cliff hanger end (sorry not sorry), talks of loneliness and emptiness

[Previous Part]

Masterlist

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. A whole lot of nothing.

He huffs in irritation, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes as he shuts the filing cabinet with his hip. An hour of searching this entire room and nothing.

I'm getting too old for this job...

Glancing over at you, he turns his flashlight off, walking over as he slips it into it rightful place in his pocket. Leon leans on the desk, moving closer down to your level.

"Anything interesting?" You shake your head.

"Nothing useful. Just a bunch a money transfers and employee back and forth... You?" You look up at him from the desk chair. Frustration written across your face.

"They cleaned the place out. Not a single scrap of anything useful."

"You still got that flashdrive with the copies of anything we could get off from the servers that wasn't blocked by a password?" Leon nods, giving you a curious slide eye.

"Why?"

"Claire is gonna want copies of everything we could find. Especially if this is another outbreak contained to Havana. TerraSave would appreciate it."

In the moment all he can think back to is Alcatraz and the hell that day was. How he could have been turned himself if it wasn't for the luck of Rebecca showing up at the right exact time with a vaccine.

With the life he's had alone, he wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy.

He softly shrugs with a nod. You were right, whatever information you could find in the moment was important. If you didn't gather it, it just be destroyed to save face for the bioweapon creating organization you were investigating this week.

You look over at the rows of servers, blue lighting up against the wall, grinning you look back at Leon.

"You feel like destroying shit?"

"What did you have in mind?" He smirks watching you reach into your holster pouch and pull out a grenade.

"Boom boom?" He breathes out a laugh, grabbing your shoulder and giving it an approving squeeze.

"That's my girl, I'm teaching you well."

Within minutes you were both rushing out of the room, the clunk of the grenade echoing as it bounced across the floor. The sliding door to the room shutting behind you both as the loud BOOM pierced the air.

Causing the metal door to indent outwards and slowly clang onto the floor. You stare at the door rocking back and forth on its indent. Leon looks at you, giving a nod of approval right before the hallway turns into a flashing red color and sirens start blaring.

"Okay, maybe that wasn't the best idea!" He yells over the loud screeching.

Both turning you hall ass back the way you originally came in. Stopping in your tracks you both look as a metal gate closes over the end of the hallway, you're only exit.

"Son of bitch..." You mumble, turning to look at him. He starts looking around, trying to formulate some kind of plan.

Leon pushes a door open gesturing for you to come over, stepping to him you see a staircase going up.

"I guess you could say, things are looking up." You groan at his stupid remark he definitely thinks is funny.

"Boo, hiss. Bad joke." You push past him and start up the stairs.

"Oh, like you could do any better Smartass." He quickly follows, keeping up with you. Making it to the first landing you turn and look back at him.

"Did no one ever tell you? You can't trust stairs Leon, they're always up to something." You feign irritation as he smirks.

"God, I really am teaching you well."

"Shut up."

You two travel up the stairs, checking each door, finding it locked. Until reaching the 5th and final floor.

Reaching the landing you both notice the door is wide open. Leon draws his weapon, you following suit as you step into the hallway, noticing the mess of papers across the carpeted floors. Office doors all left open for all the world to see. Most likely when the building was originally evacuated not long after everyone arrived.

"Looks like everyone really was in a hurry to get the hell out of here."

"I doubt anyone's left up here," Leon adds, looking into a nearby office, "and we don't really have all the time in the world to search every room. We need to get back to the group."

"So what's the plan then?" Watching Leon he steps around the corner, you follow behind without much thought. Soon you both approach a set of double doors and press them open.

Walking in you're met with a long hall, metal grates beneath your thick boots as you step in. The red lights from before illuminating the area. You both look to the sides of the rails seeing that there's a high drop on both sides.

"I knew we'd find this eventually," Leon looks at you, his eyes filled with accomplishment, "this is the long stretch we saw connecting the office to the hospital side when we arrived."

"Oh, good find then Kennedy."

Continuing forward you both holster your weapons and start walking the long stretch. Clanking fills the hallow room as you both walk.

"Do you think they cleared the hospital completely?" You question, glancing at Leon in your peripheral.

"I'd assume so. Though Chris hasn't contacted me like he's supposed to so-" Leon's cut off by a loud metal scrapping with a wet gurgling sound rattling against the walls.

You look up at the wall to your right and see it. A disgusting gooey looking monstrosity with 4 long tentacle like arms, clinging to the wall. It shrieks before lunging and missing you both and wetly slopping onto the metal grates behind you.

Taking off towards the end of the walk away you both draw your pistols getting ready to fight it. Leon turns and fires at it, pushing you to keep running towards the exit.

Hearing him to pop shots you turn seeing it quickly making it's way across the high ceiling, directly for you. You aim and fire a few shots, hitting it and blowing a hole in one of it's long arms.

Before you reach the exit the monstrosity drops in front of the door blocking your way to freedom. It swings it injured arm out, wrapping your legs up swiftly, Leon shoots at it's arm, your gun goes flying from your hand and off the platform.

Being jerked into the air you feel a crunch in your leg, shooting pain going to your ankle as you scream in agony being waved around, your body flailing like a rag doll as gun shots continue to pop through the air.

The beasts arm finally snaps off, sending you over the edge of the walkway and into the dark abyss below. Screaming for help as you plummet into whatever lies below.

"NO!" Leon looks over the rail seeing you disappear almost instantly into the darkness below. Finally hearing a loud crash a few seconds later.

Looking at the thing in his way he makes the quick decision to just do what he knows best...

Blow it to hell.

Grabbing his own grenade her grabs the trigger and pulls the pin throwing it at the monster. He jumps over the railing diving into the dark as he hears the explosion blow above him.

Darkness... He's surrounded by darkness as he hopes to live, for the first time in a long time he cares if he lives. He needs to know if his partners okay...

Being swallowed by the only black he sees the hole you've made, you laying lifeless on tile right before he almost lands next to you.

...

The darkness soon breaks... Being replaced by a bright blinding light.

A blinding florescent light.

Leon cracks his eyes open, looking down at himself. A white hospital blanket pulled up to his shoulders and a thick fleece gray blanket covers his lower half.

I'm in a hospital?

To his right she sees a heart monitor, IV bag dripping liquids into him and a tiny thin tube leading somewhere to him.

The hell happened to me...

Looking to his left, he sees you. Curled up in an arm chair asleep, covered by a black blanket. Your hand holding onto his for dear life.

"mmm..." He can't really talk yet, but he weakly clenches his hand around yours. Giving the strongest squeeze he can manage in his weakened state.

Your head lifts slowly, sleep invading your eyes as you swore in your sleep your felt something. Looking up at Leon you see his head slightly turned towards you, blue eyes on you, brightest you've seen them in these past grueling week.

"Leon!" Darting up from your chair, you lean over him. Staring at his eyes as you study him to make sure you aren't having some cruel dream.

"Where..." His voice is so hoarse as he tries to talk, you stop him.

"Don't, don't talk... Just let yourself wake up." You look at the table grabbing the nurse call button and start pushing it a few times.

"You're at a rehabilitation hospital in DC... There's a lot to explain."

A nurse and Dr. Owens comes in as you take a seat, watching them do an exam on Leon as he responds the best he can.

It took a while for Leon to be able to respond properly, his doctor doing more scans, tests and anything possible to test his abilities.

Sadly you both found out that Leon would have to relearn how to walk again and get his strength back up. Both very possible through physical therapy.

...

But through it all he still has you. From being in a wheelchair at your retirement dinner, moving him into your tiny apartment to keep an eye on him and watching him take his first steps again without assistance.

An now, 4 months later, he still has you by his side. Making sure he's taken care of and cherished like he's supposed to be. He knows he's loved, he's never felt this loved before in his life.

Even now as you walk out of the restaurant you went to for his 40th birthday. A day you made a huge fuss about, something he probably wouldn't have done if you didn't make him enjoy himself.

You look up seeing him walk out, cane pressing against the sidewalk with a soft click as he waltzes over and sits next to you on the bench.

"You okay, Hun?" He nods with a smile, messing with something in his pocket. He looks nervous almost.

"I just don't get why you made such a big deal out of today." Leon looks at you, letting his cane go and holds onto the edge of the bench.

"It's your 40th birthday, Dumbass. Of course I'd make a big deal, the day is all about you." You smile watching his eyes light up, hands gripping the bench. Squeezing rhythmically, almost like it's a stress ball.

"Well," he begins, looking back at you with an inviting smile, "what if I don't want my birthday to be only about me?"

Your eyebrows wrinkle, confusion falling on your face before he starts fiddling around in his jacket pocket.

"You know, for the longest time I've felt lonely. Years, it's been years. Since before we met. Before I started working for the government."

"Leon, what's-" He cuts you off before you can say anything else.

"Please, let me talk. I promise I'm going somewhere with this." He sounds serious, nodding you shut up and let him go.

"I guess you could say that I felt empty. Tried filling the void with... a number of different things. Nothing ever made me happy or feel whole... Until I met you."

He pulls his hand out of his pocket and covers his hand with his other hand. Not taking his eyes off you.

"You were such a hard ass when we met. Didn't let me breathe wrong way without putting me in line. But, I liked it. I liked that you were blunt and not afraid to speak your mind or call me stupid. Especially if I was being stupid... And it made me feel like someone truly had my back. After all the shit I've been through."

A soft pop sound comes from his hands, a blue cap falling from his hands. Bouncing across the ground a few feet away.

"And then you told me you loved me. An proved it... Proved that I could depend on you. Stuck with me through recovery, even if the past few months have been a personal hell for me. You really showed me what it was like to be loved. Loved by someone who wanted the best for me and actually cared."

Finally, he moves his hands reaching into a small white cup, pulling out a plastic ring with a giant fake diamond on it. You gasp soft, looking at it your eyes start welling with tears. A few slipping out and leaving wet streaks down your cheeks. His smile grows larger, looking at you fondly. Like he always looks at you when he thinks you don't notice him.

"Now, I know it's nothing *fancy* and we can get you something real. I just haven't had the chance to leave your side and get something... not 50¢."

He grunts, sliding off the bench and to the ground, bad knee up and his good leg under him. Taking your hand you give a wobbly smile.

"I don't want to spend another day where I can't call you my wife... My actual wife. I don't want anybody else. Just you... Just you and me. Just the two of us."

He takes a deep breath, holding the ring up.

"Will you marry me?"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader

[ltash]

Lieutenant Ghost is a big time flirt..

You and Soap end up in Ghost's apartment because he wanted to get some files from there but your LT is a big time flirt and cannot stop flirting with you. He scares the hell out of you everytime.

Ghost opened the door to reveal a yawning Soap.

"So you woke up. Finally." Ghost said.

"Yes LT! Couldn't sleep in the car for that long." Soap said in between yawns.

"Sleep on the couch Johnny." Ghost pointed towards the couch.

"What about Angela?" Soap asked.

"Don't worry about her." Ghost said.

"Ok." Soap said and sunk in the couch.

Ghost took a cushion from another couch throwing at him before coming into the bedroom locking the door behind him.

As I stood there, washing my face, Ghost entered the bathroom, casually removing his zipper hoodie. My eyes widened in surprise as I took in his sculpted physique, adorned with a network of scars, each one telling its own story.

There was a particularly prominent scar on the left side of his ribs, a visible reminder of past battles and close calls.

But what truly caught my attention was the tattoo that adorned his skin, a design I had only glimpsed from a distance before.

Now, standing before me, I could see it clearly, every intricate detail etched into his flesh. It was a mesmerizing sight, drawing me in with its mystery and allure.

"I messed up my clothes love. Going to take a shower. Care to join me?" He asked, his tone playful.

"I don't have the courage plus you can't shower with your mask on Ghost." I replied trying to avoid any further physical contact with him.

I knew I would melt under his touch.

"Why don't we make a deal?" He suggested.

"I take my mask off and you take your clothes off for me." He said stepping very close to me.

Feeling a surge of panic I put both of my hands on his chest, pleading.

"No. Please don't."

"I promise I won't bite." He whispered into my ear.

Flushed and flustered, I bit my lip nervously.

"I can't do this," I stammered before hastily fleeing the bathroom.

His laughter followed me. "Sorry I scared you, love. I was joking," he called after me.

"Don't ever make jokes like that with me. Ever again," I replied firmly, trying to calm my racing heart.

I stormed into the living room, tossing a cushion at Soap. "Get up and go sleep with him," I demanded, pointing towards Ghost's bedroom.

Soap, still groggy, protested, "What? He told me you're not sleeping here."

"Where else am I supposed to sleep then? You two can sleep together on his bed. I'm taking the couch," I declared firmly, settling onto the couch with a cushion in my lap.

As Soap trudged off to his designated room, Ghost emerged from the shower, clad in a grey hoodie and sweatpants.

"Fucking hell! Now I'll have to listen to his snoring all night," Ghost muttered, annoyance clear in his voice.

"Do you want some tea, love?" he asked, rummaging through the cabinets for jars.

"Sure," I replied, trying to push away the lingering discomfort from our earlier encounter.

As I leaned against the counter, watching him put the kettle on the stove, I couldn't shake off the curiosity that had been nagging at me for so long. "Why do you always wear a mask?" I inquired, my voice soft but insistent.

He paused for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by the question. "To hide my face," he replied simply, his tone carrying a weight of finality.

"Yeah, everybody knows that," I countered, pressing further. "But why hide your face?"

"To hide my identity from enemies," he stated, his voice clipped and precise.

I moved closer, closing the distance between us. "Enemies. But why friends? What is our fault?" I chuckled lightly, trying to break the tension that hung in the air.

He didn't answer immediately, and I took the opportunity to continue. "You're perfect in every aspect, and you don't know that. But you can be better than this if you try to be a little less flirtatious," I said, my words pouring out in a rush now.

Its a small part from my original novel on wattpad.

#cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty

[petrichor-idyllic]

OPEN WOUNDS

Alright, alright, I just know people are gonna get mad at me but I'm having Maze Runner burn out, and the requests I have are throwing me through a loop right now lmao. (Requests are still closed.) So, I thought I'd write something different to get me out of my hole- my own idea. Yeah, I know, Petri writing their own original plot? Mad.

Hope I've got at least one OBX fan in my audience.

MASTERLIST | JJ MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Fem! Reader x JJ Maybank. Enemies to lovers.

You and JJ have a tense relationship - you always have. But, both of you coming from rough home lives, you've both resorted to the Chateau and John B as your saviour. Neither of you talk about it, but you know more about JJ than you let on. Though, tonight is the night. With John B out with Sarah and JJ's dad out of town, you finally have the Chateau to yourself - until things don't go quite as planned.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, themes of physical abuse, generally depressing subject matter, no depiction of actual violence just the aftermath but still trigger warning for abuse. Also some friends references.

Ah.

The sweet relief of silence.

Between yours and JJ's bickering, the constant string of girls flooding through the Chateau, the parties, the drinking and John B's terrible music taste - the Chateau is normally a chaotic bundle of angsty teenagers. But not tonight.

Tonight, John B is on a date, Pope and Kie are at their respective homes, and JJ's father is out of town, resulting in him going home for his own peace. Probably, because he doesn't actually want to be stuck in the house with just you.

But that's fine by you.

You're not really sure why you and JJ hate each other so much. You swear blind that he started it, but he says otherwise. You were childhood friends with Pope, and JJ with John B - so when John B befriended Pope, you both just ended up tagging along. Now, you're a certified Pogue, and you're close with everyone, even Sarah.

Apart from JJ.

John B says you're just too similar to get along, Pope thinks it's because you're both too stubborn, Kie reckons it's because there's some underlying tension you both refuse to admit. But it doesn't really matter why, in your opinion.

And Kie is clearly wrong.

Though, when shit hit the fan at your place and you decided to seek refuge at the Chateau, you kinda sorta forgot that JJ was there for the same reasons.

You've tried, okay? You have tried to get along with him. To make things less awkward, if just for the sake of the other Pogues more than anything else.

But it just doesn't work.

JJ knows how to push your buttons, and no matter how calm and collected you try to be, most of your interactions end in an argument.

But not tonight.

Because he isn't here.

You lay, spawled on the couch, wearing a long worn band tee as a dress as you scroll through your phone, an episode of friends playing on the TV in the background. You think it's the one where Chandler gets handcuffed to a filing cabinet - but you're really not paying attention, nor do you remember the actual name of the episode. You mindlessly dive your hand into the bag of potato chips resting on your stomach, laughing at some TikTok Pope had sent you.

Between work, school, and arguing with a pretty surfer boy, you very rarely get time to actually just chill out and relax. You've not even bothered to get up and turn the lights on, the thin shine of the moonlight and the electronic flicker from the TV being the only things stopping you from walking into something when you eventually stand up.

Not that you intend on standing up anytime soon.

Things are going well. You might even be able to have a shower without JJ thinking he's hilarious and stealing your clothes. Or maybe even listen to music without him blasting his own music even louder.

Life is good, sometimes.

Just as you're smiling to yourself about how good your evening is, the door is violently yanked open and then slammed again, scaring the shit out of you.

"Jesus!" You jump, looking over the back of the sofa, it's too dark to make him out properly, but his trademark red cap and locks of blond escaping his choice of head wear give you a pretty good hint. "Maybank? The hell? Aren't you meant to be at home for once?"

You're too angry that he's interrupted your pleasant evening to realise that he's in clear distress.

"Fuck off, (Y/N)." He spits, leaving you in a state of shock. That's blunt and forward, even for him.

"What-?"

"Leave me alone." He says sharply, going into the spare room where he sleeps and slamming the door.

You sit there in a bubble of confusion for a couple of seconds before huffing and returning to your original position on the couch. "Whatever."

Your peace only lasts a few seconds as you hear a loud crash from inside the room. You sit up, silently, grabbing the remote and turning the TV off to see if you heard that correctly.

There's more crashing and banging as undoubtedly JJ has some kind of rage induced meltdown. That's when your phone buzzes. You open it, reading the message:

Pope

I thought Luke was out of town???

You

Huh???? He is??

Pope

I just saw him???

Went to the corner store and he was smoking outside

You

????

I thought JJ said he was gone for the week??

Pope

Is JJ at the Chateau??

I can't get ahold of him

You

Yeh

Burst in about five minutes ago

Pope

Can you check on him for me

You

Are you fr rn?

Pope:

Pls

You groan, tossing your phone to the side as you stand up. You stop in your tracks when you realise that the noises have stopped. The house is now completely and utterly silent.

Which is somehow more concerning.

"Oi, Maybank, you good?" You half-shout, earning no response as you pick up your phone from the sofa - just in case you have to call John B or Pope in a panic.

You get no respond, slowly walking towards the room. "JJ? Hey - you okay?" You knock on the door.

"Leave me alone." JJ's voice breaks as you hear his voice through the door, and you feel your stomach sink.

You don't particularly like JJ, sure, he's like, the hottest man you've ever seen, and he is genuinely kind of funny sometimes. That doesn't matter; you don't like him.

But you can empathise with him. And he's Pope's friend.

And it doesn't take a genuis to put the dots together about what's happened.

"JJ." You sigh. "I'm coming in."

To your surprise, he doesn't respond, so you slowly push the door open.

The room is a mess, clothes are scattered everywhere, a lamp's broken, the bed sheets are a mess and the pillow is across the room, slumped against a wall. It looks like he's thrown anything he managed to get his hands on. JJ sits on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, he stares at the floor, one hand in his messy blond locks, the other resting on his knee, red cap in his hand.

He doesn't look up as you walk in, his hair hiding his face along with the dimly lit room. Silently, you move, walking to sit next to him. You leave enough distance between you to make neither of you uncomfortable.

"I told you to leave me alone." He mumbles, not even looking at you.

You hesitate for a second, sighing.

"...my step dad was an asshole. When things got bad, I'd lose my shit and scream at anyone who got too close, screaming about how I wanted to be on my own. ...But, all I ever really wanted was for someone to push past all that and act like they cared about me."

JJ doesn't move, or even look up, so you keep talking.

"You can hate me, and tease me, and throw shit, and say you hate everyone and this whole shitty island and whatever you want to say to get it out your system - I get it. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you, Maybank - so suck it up."

JJ is still silent, but his hand falls from his hair, loosely resting on his knee as he finally looks at you. You look at him out of the corner of your eye, and try not to visibly react.

JJ already has a black eye forming, a cut on his cheek and blood smeared under her nose. There's also blood staining the back of his hand, probably from wiping his nose.

"... you gonna put our petty differences aside for five minutes and let me fix that?" You ask; reacting dramatically or with pity is just going to piss him off even more.

JJ hesitates, but eventually nods, sighing. "Alright... but I don't wanna talk about it."

"I wasn't gonna ask." You stand up, offering him a hand, that he doesn't take, before he brushes past you and out the room.

That's about right.

He sits on the sofa as you get the appropriate means from the first aid box. You walk back to him, looking at him for a second before you step forward and touch his face for him to look up. He immediately flinches, pulling himself away, making you huff.

"Dude, I've gotta touch you if I'm gonna help you." JJ mumbles something you don't quite catch, but he lets you lift his face. You lightly dab under his nose, wiping the blood away before moving to the cut on his cheek.

He hisses as you press an alcohol wipe to his cheek.

"Sorry," you mumble.

"Could've warned me."

"Figured you wouldn't be such a pussy."

JJ simply rolls his eyes at this as you continue to nurse to him. Then you grab some glue strips, pressing down on one side of the cut and pulling the skin up to reach the other, tightly holding the cut together so it leaves less of a scar.

"Why are you helping me?" The question catches you off-guard, making you look him in the eye.

And you suddenly become very aware of how close you are. JJ isn't the goofy kid who always had a tooth missing and dirt on his clothes that you grew up with anymore. He's objectively gorgeous - there's a reason there's a seemingly endless amount of girls in the Chateau when he's around.

His bright ocean blue eyes lock with yours, and for a second, you understand. You understand all of those girls you judged and made fun of for falling for the blond's charm.

I mean look at him. How could they not?

And now is the worst moment to realise that.

You stand between his legs, bodies close, you're only wearing a thin lounge shirt and JJ's hands rest on his open legs, almost like he's fighting the instinct to put them on your waist.

You clear your throat, ripping your eyes away from his hypnotic gaze. He notices the shift, raising his eyebrow as you finally answer his question.

"I think I've already explained that."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess, but, like, you don't have to do this. Ain't you meant to hate me?"

"I only hate you because you hated me first."

"I didn't."

"Did too."

"Whatever." He pauses, eyes following your every move as you brush hair out of your face, grabbing his jaw.

"Stop moving."

"It hurts."

"Cope."

You place another gluestrip on his cheek. He opens his mouth to speak, but quickly shuts it again, making you curious. "What?"

"What, what?"

"You were gonna say something." You hook a finger under his chin, angling his face so you can see what you're doing better.

"No, I wasn't."

"Alright, fine - you weren't then."

The silence around you becomes more tense, and then JJ sighs. "I don't- I don't actually hate you."

You pause, looking at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"I mean, you're annoying as shit," he continues, "but... you're the only person that seems to be able to put up with my shit. So... yeah, yanno."

"So... you don't hate me?" You pull your hands away from his face, and he shakes his head, shrugging before running his fingers through his hair.

"No... you help around here - I mean, the Chateau would be trashed if you weren't around, and you help Pope out. And, I mean, he cares about you, for some reason, so you can't be all bad."

You scoff at this. "Yeah, yeah - you'll need some ice for that eye." He rolls his eyes in response as you return to the kitchen, bringing back a bag of frozen peas, which he presses to his eye as you finally sit down.

"It's cold."

"Is it really?"

"Ha ha." He fake laughs. "What were you even doing, anyway?"

"I watching TV and enjoying a peaceful evening."

"Sorry to ruin your evening." He says sarcastically.

"It ain't your fault." You respond, not quite sure where to go from here but you can't quite meet his eye either. It falls quiet again.

"...thank you."

He says it in such a whisper you think you're actually losing your mind at first. "What?"

"I, uh," he rubs his face. "I said thank you. You... you didn't have to do this. The others... When I- when..." He sighs. "Normally, they just leave me to it. They don't get it, they don't understand."

"They don't, not in the way you want them to, but they understand that you're going through something horrible. And they don't wanna make things worse. And you tell them to leave you alone and avoid talking about it - people can't help you if you don't let them, JJ." You say, your voice becoming softer as you finally look at him.

"You managed." He responds, watching you carefully. You don't really want to have this conversation either.

"Yeah, well, I'm stubborn." You joke, earning a snort and him dropping and shaking his head, his hands falling to his lap with the bag of peas.

"Yeah, you can say that again." He pauses. "Mind if I join you with your little marathon? I've got nothing better to do."

"What?" You scoff. "You want to willingly spend time together?"

"Yeah - fuck it, why not? It's been a shitty day, I'm not sure even your annoying-ass could make it worse."

"Ah, well, I'm sure I can find a way." JJ grins at your sarcastic comment, picking up the remote and flicking the TV back on. "Friends? Seriously?"

"What? It's good."

"Ehh, is it, though?"

"Just 'cause you have no taste."

"Rude. Well, what would you rather watch?"

"Uh, Two Guys and A Girl?" You blankly look at him. "You don't know what that is, do you?"

"No-"

"'Course you don't."

"Just 'cause you're a film freak." You sneer.

"Just 'cause you're uncultured." He retorts, then sighs. "It's another nineties sit-com. Only has two seasons."

"That probably means it's bad."

"Shut up. Ryan Reynolds is in it."

"That doesn't mean it's good."

"Uhh, yeah, it does."

You continue your dumb bickering, even though you do ultimately continue watching friends - JJ even laughs at some of the bad jokes. It's... weirdly nice.

You're not sure if it's just because you've become painfully aware that you're attracted to him, or if you guys are just trauma bonding, but it's almost fun.

"Ross is such a dick. Rachel deserves better." You chuckle at his comment, rolling your eyes. Then, after a moment, you speak.

"Oh, Maybank?"

"Yeah?" He responds between mouthfuls of potatoe chips.

"You don't need to thank me."

He pauses, glancing at you. "Yeah, I know - but I still will."

You nod, a small smile on your lips. "Well, you're welcome then."

○□○□○□○□○

"Guys! Guys!" John B rushes out the Chateau the next day as Kie and Pope carry booze and cups for plans of a kegger that evening. "You gotta see this."

"Huh? See what?" Kie blinks at the boy as she climbs out of her car, adjusting the bag she's holding full of paper cups. She'd lectured Pope for trying to buy plastic ones, which had condemned her to having to carry them.

"What are you talking about?" Pope raises an eyebrow.

"Shhh! Keep your voices down!" John B whisper-yells, making them exchange puzzled looks. "Come on. Come on!" He summons them to follow him, in which they shrug at each other as they follow him inside.

"Dude, what's going on?" Pope hisses, his tone low as John B leads them into the living room area.

John B puts a finger to his lips, then points at the couch. Kie and Pope exchange another glance before walking around the sofa.

"Holy-" Kie starts before John B dramatically shushes her again.

On the couch, you and JJ remain. You're not sure when you fell asleep, but you did.

You're both still sat up, your head resting on JJ's shoulder, his arm loosely around yours as his head rests on top of yours. You're almost snuggled into the crook of his neck, your knees pulled up and slighting resting on the edge of his lap.

"Should we wake them up?" Pope asks. "Psst! Guys-"

Kie slaps his arm. "Don't you dare. They're gonna get along even less when they wake up - let's just enjoy the peace whilst it lasts."

John B smirks and nods. "Yeah, come on, let's head to the Boneyard and start setting things up. They'll catch up later."

The trio walk out as quietly as they can, leaving you two to your slumber.

Kie's right; when you both wake up, you're going to be embarrassed and probably angry at the other. But right now, you're blissfully unaware.

The bag of frozen peas defrosts on the table, and even though JJ is clearly hurt, he's been taken care of, and seems content.

Yeah, so, I'm providing content no one asked for. This is my blog, let me live.

Lmao, in all seriousness, I figured writing the start of a potential crush could be cute for a change and it's nice writing for another one of my favourite boys, who isn't Minho.

I know this isn't my demography, but I'm tryna make my masterlist look less empty.

Anyway, I hope at least one of you enjoyed this :))

#🌿 petri obx jj maybank #🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes obx #🍃 petri obx #obx imagine #obx x reader #obx netflix #obx #obx fic #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank obx #jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj x reader

[captainsophiestark]

The Level-Headed One

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day 8 Prompt: "Give that to me, before anything happens."

Summary: Obi-Wan and his partner (in life and on this mission) break into a smuggler's den in search of information the Republic needs, when things go a little sideways.

Word Count: 1,262

Category: Fluff

Requested by @ghostofskywalker! Hope you like it Tori!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Missions like these are my favorite," I muttered, smiling up at my best friend and partner, Obi-Wan, as we ducked down a darkened bar hallway, his arm wrapped tightly around me and my arms around his neck. Obi-Wan hummed, leaning down and towards me until we disappeared from the sight of the rest of the bar, when he pulled back.

"They are more fun than rushing into battle on a dusty planet."

I smiled, leaning up to give him a brief peck on the cheek before we both returned our focus to the task at hand. We'd come here looking for information about smuggling routes the Separatists had been using to run supplies past our blockades, but with a cover as two people on a date in a seedy bar. Away from the Jedi Council, on missions in dives like this, were some of the only times Obi and I got to spend as a couple.

Unfortunately, they also often included people trying to kill us at some point or another. We'd just have to keep surviving long enough to get to the other side of the war and retire happily.

"Do you want to take care of the door, or should I?" asked Obi-Wan, both of us scanning our surroundings as we reached the locked door of the club owner's office. If we were right, all the information we could hope for and more would be in there.

I shrugged. "I'm probably going to kick it down, so if you have another way..."

"Hold on."

He closed his eyes, raising his hand ever so slightly as he concentrated and worked through the force. I turned to watch our backs, until I heard the telltale 'click' of a lock unlocking itself.

"You did that by moving the lock from the inside with the force?" I asked, turning to my boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged.

"I've needed to develop that skill more than a few times in the course of the war."

"Still. Impressive."

With one last glance around the hallway, the two of us ducked quickly into the office, carefully shutting the door behind us. I relocked it before turning to take in the room with Obi.

We'd definitely found the right place. The office was a disaster zone, papers, boxes, and filing cabinets scattered everywhere. This was going to be a long, long night.

"I'll take the left half if you take the right half," Obi-Wan deadpanned. I sighed.

"We didn't do nearly enough dancing and drinking in the bar before hand to deal with all this."

Since neither of us knew when an enemy might next appear, we tried to work quickly while still doing a thorough job. I kept one eye on the time, all too aware that every minute that ticked by was another increasing the risk of our death.

I'd been getting jittery as we neared the half hour mark, but Obi-Wan and I had almost made it through the entire room. We'd started at the edges and gradually worked towards the middle and each other, and finally, we'd met at the desk.

I huffed a sigh and popped the top off yet another box and started digging through, until a large, familiar object made me pause.

"Oh boy," I muttered, reaching into the box and pulling out the flashbang grenade. I held it up to show Obi-Wan, turning it over in my hand. "Look at this. Who leaves something like this in a box on their desk?"

"Seedy smugglers who might need to throw one at someone coming in the door?" he suggested.

"Yeah, I guess so." I tossed the grenade lightly in my hand, testing its weight and getting a feel for it. "Interesting."

"Give me that, before anything happens," Obi-Wan said, holding out his hand with a sigh. I rolled my eyes, but dropped it in his hand anyway.

"I'm not going to blow us up, Obi-Wan. I might be best friends with Anakin, but I'm not completely stupid."

He snorted, which made a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. I nudged him with my shoulder as we both continued our search, the feeling of him in the force putting me at ease and bringing a smile to my face even in the middle of a mission like this. A few minutes later, I smiled for a different reason.

"I think I found what we're looking for."

Obi-Wan leaned over my shoulder as I fanned out a stack of documents, all detailing several shipping routes and smuggling runs designed to get around Republic blockades.

"Excellent work," he said, eyes still scanning the information. "Let's take that with us and get out of here, shall we?"

"Neither of you is going to be going anywhere, ever again."

Obi-Wan and I's heads snapped up to find the club owner standing in the doorway, flanked by two burly guards cracking their knuckles. I sighed.

"Two more minutes, and we would've been gone," I muttered.

"Nobody gets away with stealing from me, in my own club, with their lives."

Rather than returning fire with our new enemy, Obi-Wan leaned in to whisper in my ear.

"Can you gather those papers quickly if we were to run?" I nodded. "Good. Then close your eyes and cover your ears."

I turned to give him a questioning look, only to see him pick up the flashbang grenade I'd found and pull the pin, hurling it at the club owner without a second thought. I ducked and covered just in time as it went off before quickly springing into action, grabbing the papers off the desk and following Obi-Wan as we pushed past the stunned club owner and his guards.

We rushed back into the noise and confusion of the club, angry screams following from behind us. Obi-Wan reached back and took my hand as we wove through the crowd, finally making our way to an exit near the back and ducking out the door.

"You got all the papers?" he asked as we jumped into our speeder and he quickly guided it into the sky. I nodded.

"Yes, I did. And I'll absolutely never understand how you got your reputation as the level-headed one."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "It's easy. I got the reputation because I'm constantly surrounded by you and Anakin. And when he dives out a thousand-story window without a plan to catch himself and you run into an ambush with nothing but the force to get you out of it, a little flashbang grenade in a pinch becomes the most rational thing in the world."

I snorted, but he wasn't wrong. I caught him grinning out of the corner of my eye, so I turned to him more fully with a grin of my own.

"So... mission success, but I still think we got run out of that place a little early. Do you want to go somewhere for a little victory celebration before we go back to the Temple?"

"...What did you have in mind?"

"Padmé told me about a jazz club not too far from here."

Obi-Wan chuckled. "You certainly know me well." He glanced at the still-dark sky, then sighed. "I suppose we do have some time. Just tell me where to go."

We shared a smile, blending in amongst the lights of the city as two other people, no Jedi Order or war following us like it did everywhere else. And for tonight, we'd enjoy that escape for a little while, to help remind us exactly what we were out there fighting for.

#fictober23 #star wars #the clone wars #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars oneshot #the clone wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi oneshot #jedi #jedi!reader #mission #the republic #the clone wars oneshot #star wars the clone wars #the jedi order #clone wars era

[daydream-aroace]

I'm not aroace, so I don't want to be rude or anything, and I apologize if I end up being rude... But I am genuinely very curious...

If you're aroace and want neither a partner nor sex...

Why do you think of the dirtiest jokes?? How??

Is it boredom??? Curiousity??? A vivid imagination?????

I'm just absolutely puzzled by the fact the people who actively have said they do NOT want to fuck, are somehow the kinkiest???

Ooh! I appreciate this question! (Prepare for a long rant, lol.)

In my bio, I say I'm Aego/Ficto AroAce for context (so I generally only feel attraction to fictional characters and I can enjoy it in media, though I don't like being the object of sexualization). I'm also Apothi AroAce which is just repulsed AroAce (I'm repulsed by anything sexual or romantic in real life and cannot stand the thought).

I don't speak for all AroAces but this is just my explanation.

When in fiction you're okay with romantic pick-up lines, and dirty jokes, and all this content is shown all over the media, you tend to store it in your brain. And sometimes it's like bottling up your emotions so bad, but in this case dirty jokes and such, you can just unleash a whole load of things.

If it's the right setup and the right situation with the right backup, you can make something amazing. For example, I have an enemy of mine I call M for privacy. One day in class he exclaimed, "I'M A BICYCLE!" My immediate response? "So that means you want someone to ride you?"

It was the perfect setup, and I had so many jokes in my catalog that I can't miss out on using. Imagine having so many filing cabinets full of papers, just STUFFED (not intended...) to the brim, and whenever you get the chance? You can't help but use them.

And sometimes I tell dirty jokes by accident! For example, I was talking to a friend of mine (I don't exactly remember what it was about but it went something like this), "Blah blah blah, it was hard... Like me." And it was just out of nowhere, I didn't even intend it, it's like a muscle memory almost.

Boredom? Yes. You can spice up your life by doing the most dirty jokes ever. It's fun! It almost feels like you have no repercussions for doing so. You make fun of the fact that sex, relationships, and desires like that exist, and that's part of it.

It's also can be such a power move. M once said, "YOU'RE A MEANIE!" Making a sexualized pose, "No, I'M A BADDIE~"

Being AroAce just means you don't experience attraction in any way. Some AroAces do want romantic and/or sexual relationships, some like me don't, and some like me are okay with it in fiction/media but repulsed in real life, and so many examples I can't list because there are so many ways of being AroAce. Being AroAce is just not feeling sexual and romantic attraction and nothing more.

You can have a dirty mind, but it's not directed towards anyone, and that's being a dirty-minded AroAce. You can have a pure mind and be Allo, and that's being a pure-minded Allo. Saying your attraction is just that, attraction. Lesbians can make dirty jokes with men, are they attracted to them though? No. Gay men can make dirty jokes with women, does it mean they're attracted to them? No.

AroAces can make dirty jokes with Allo people, does it mean they experience attraction? No.

This experience is all subjective though. But this is how I feel about this topic (and I tried making it as objective as possible). I don't speak for all AroAce people though.

#aroace #asexual #aromantic asexual #aromantic #ace #aro #aspec #arospec #aromantism #asexuality

[yoonrambles]

Attack on Empire

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: The Empire set its sights on another planet. It should’ve been an easy harvest; the planet wasn’t technologically advanced, nor did it have any special value to the Empire. The only thing of note would be the strength of emotion the inhabitants of the planet had.

And yet, this planet would prove to be the Empire’s greatest threat.

- AO3 link !

Thanks to KaiyoAzuma+ all the people in discord who took part. Kaiyo, legit, my dude, you are a genius.

Taglist: @food-lover9000 , @thenyxsky , @norieoncrack , @xcerizex , @xbalayage special mention: @celamoon , @41lobsters

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

The first attack was sudden and utterly unexpected. In the midst of a perfectly peaceful day, the sky darkened and destruction rained down upon the cities of Earth. People cried out in despair in the face of a foreign invasion, pleading for their lives; pleading for mercy.

But to the Empire, this fleeting desperation was merely a footnote in their long journey to collect energy from other planets to expand. To them, this was a routine occurrence – the planet had nothing special to offer, no unique material nor capability that would prove useful in the future, save for the strong emotional power the inhabitants had. Thus, the planet would be harvested; sucked dry, and destroyed.

Yet amongst the rubble and destruction, in the face of this unknown danger, it wasn’t so unknown to a certain group of people.

***

BASE: LBC-0428

Trip of Inspiration

***

“Move it, people! We need to get all the personnel files out of here, and then get ourselves out of here, ASAP!” In an underground base, an authoritative voice rang out.

Traveler ID: 0067437579

MazaRin

Communications Department

Commander of LBC-0428

MazaRin’s voice cut clear above the clamor of papers, slammed filing cabinets, and rush of people darting back and forth to clear out the base. Above, a distant explosion sounded, and the base shook as yet another bomb detonated within the stone walls. Rhythmic footsteps echoed through the halls as the Empire’s robotic soldiers entered one by one. Despite the sound of gunshots, each person moved with purpose, calm and never panicked.

Watching over the evacuation was a woman bracing a gun as she peered around a corner to spot any approaching enemies.

Traveler ID: 0033950733

Mayee

Combat Department - Trainee

Upon seeing the first soldier turn into the hallway, she aimed and quickly released a round of bullets, ducking back behind cover as the robot was destroyed. Behind her, the noise started to lessen as the other members of the base made their way out.

The air outside was crisp, with a faint smell of gunpowder lingering in it. Once she determined that everyone else had evacuated, she backed up and defended them from getting snuck up on by the encroaching soldiers.

Up in front of everyone evacuating, MazaRin raised a hand to the communication device by her ear.

“Yeah, we’ve got all the papers; we’re outside now. Got any directions?”

“You should head down towards the river and regroup with Rozuliette at Seasonal Hunt,” The operator on the other side of the line responded. “From what our observers are saying, they’re trying to surround the base and trap you all in, but cutting across the block should let you avoid most of them.”

Traveler ID: 0486872070

cressie

Communications Department

cressie, one of the most talented, and persuasive members of the Communications Department, provided MazaRin with the details. MazaRin nodded, taking note of what cressie said. Gesturing to the people behind her, she silently guided them down the route recommended by cressie.

“You’ve got a few robots about 500 meters ahead of you, right around the corner at about a 60 degree angle.” cressie said. “You can probably snipe them from a good angle, there aren’t any other robots close enough to interfere.”

MazaRin held up a hand, telling the people behind her to hold still. Creeping through an alley, she braced her sniper rifle against a dumpster, the five robots in the street easily visible from her position.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Five quick shots, and they were all taken care of. MazaRin gestured everyone forward, the small group moving as a well-protected unit with MazaRin in the front and Mayee bringing up the rear. Seasonal Hunt wasn’t too far away, but it was still quite a distance for a group to travel on foot while trying to avoid enemy attention.

The group was about halfway across the road when cressie suddenly spoke up, alarm in her voice.

“Hold on- there are a lot of robots coming your way- find some shelter quick-!”

The warning came too late as smoke bombs exploded around them, cutting off their vision and causing some people to choke on the smog.

“Everyone, get down! Stay low!” MazaRin called out, trying to sweep away the smoke. The sound of gunshots rang out as Mayee and the other Combat Department members began trying to shoot out into the smoke at targets they couldn’t see.

“Hang in there, I’ve sent reinforcements your way, they should get there soon!” cressie relayed amidst the chaos.

MazaRin was about to respond, but her words got interrupted when a shadow lunged for her out of the corner of her eye, barely managing to avoid the robot that tried grabbing her throat. A swift roundhouse kick and a bullet put it down, but that left her open as another robot tackled her to the ground, restraining her.

The sound of clanking metal echoed, announcing the arrival of more robots. The screech of metal on metal and sound of gunfire died down as various thuds, groans, and exclamations of pain announced that the other Combat Department members were taken down as well.

When the smoke cleared, the group was on the ground, outnumbered by the several robots encircling them. Guns were pointed at them in clear threat as some robots began to collect the papers in the hands of the party. Once collected, the robot holding MazaRin hauled her to her feet, dragging her away from the rest of the group.

“Keep the leader. We don’t need the rest,” one of the robots ordered. The clicking of guns echoed in the barren street.

However, that wasn’t the only noise. A humming noise in the distance was steadily getting louder, approaching the combat site. The robots paused, evaluating the new potential threat. Seeing the robots distracted, MazaRin took the opportunity to throw her weight to the side, kicking the robot at its legs. It did not let her go, but it did get stunned by the sudden movement. Detecting the movement, the other robots turned their head towards MazaRin, preparing to attack. At the same time, Mayee brought up her gun, taking advantage of the diversion of her captor’s attention.

Bang! Bang!

The two robots who were holding them were downed with a bullet directly at their core. The other robots aimed at the two, but stopped as they heard the soft rumbling of an engine coming from above. They all looked up, and the sound of an engine revving grew ever closer. The robots held fire for a moment, waiting for the new enemy to show up.

The next moment, a motorcycle crashed down on a robot from above, as the driver of the motorcycle turned the bike sideways to ensure maximum area of impact in the collision against the ground. The robots switched their targets to the two newcomers, while MazaRin and Mayee smiled to themselves.

Traveler ID: 0218562825

Iacie

Support Department - Transportation

As the bike skidded across the ground, Iacie revved the engine, sending the motorcycle speeding around the group to avoid the gunfire from the robots.

“Never fear, the cavalry's here!” Sam cheered enthusiastically as she shot down a group of robots with her M4A1. The sound of mechanical firing rung in the air as the bullets dropped to the ground one by one.

Traveler ID: 0101261071

Sam

Combat Department

She then jumped off the motorcycle right as lacie brought up the front tire to wheelie a robot and swiped out her Renetti, dual-wielding both her firearms. Loud blasts of gunfire echoed through the streets, along with the constant beeping of the robots accompanied by the zapping noises of their guns.

MazaRin sat up, her back pressed against a building, watching as the group hastily collected the paper strewn across the street. Mayee collected a handful of the papers and put them in a file, before she scurried off towards MazaRin.

“Are you alright, Commander?” Mayee asked, a subtle tone of jest present in her question.

MazaRin understood that, she rolled her eyes before replying, “Besides the bruised ankle, I'm fine, Mayee.”

Mayee nodded and looked at the duo which were still shooting down the robots. Sam shot down the robots one after another; the continuous sound of bullets hitting against the metal mixed with her boisterous laughter almost made her seem like a madwoman – and an efficient one at that. Meanwhile, Iacie calmly assisted Sam. Iacie’s shots were precise; smoothly hitting the robots’ central processor – taking them down with a single shot.

“MazaRin, do you copy?” The familiar voice of the operator rang out again.

“Yeah, yeah, copy that, Lobster,” MazaRin replied with a soft sigh.

“Hope there aren't many casualties, MazaRin! Did the reinforcements reach you?”

Traveler ID: 0033949701

lobster

Communications Department

Enthusiastic as ever, lobster screamed into the microphone. MazaRin had to wince after hearing that message from him.

“Yes, they did, lobster,” MazaRin chuckled. “Don't worry.”

The sounds of gunfire receded, and a loud exclamation followed–

“Woooo!!” Sam exclaimed, laughing soon after kicking out the decapitated head of a poor robot. “That was fun. Wasn't it, Iacie?”

lacie softly hummed in approval. “Where's the Commander?”

Sam pointed towards the direction where MazaRin was and walked over to her, and Iacie followed. “Evening, MazaRin. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm alright.” MazaRin tried to stand up, her hand on the lamppost beside her, trying to balance herself. “Aside from the slight injury, that is.”

Iacie noticed the injury and added, “It's alright. Just a small bruise.”

“Yeah, hop on the motorbike, we'll get you to the base,” Sam replied.

“Thank you, guys. But what about the others?” MazaRin pointed towards the other members.

As the Commander of the base, it was MazaRin’s task to look after all of them. And that's what she did. All of the members looked up to her as a mother figure; caring and kind, but also practical and calculative when it came to making any moves. And, being the Commander, it was almost natural for her to womder how Iacie would be able to transport all of them to the Seasonal Hunt base.

“Let me call for some extras,” Sam said, putting a hand on her communication device. “Yeah, we need some transport backup, please!”

“Damn, didn't cressie already send some backups?”

Traveler ID: 0487003662

Norie

Communications Department

“Yeah, but we need more to transport the others as well,” Sam added.

“Alright, fine, don't worry,” Norie replied. “Gonna ask cressie to send some more…”

“Thanks, Norie!” Sam put her hand down and looked at MazaRin. “Extra backups are on their way! But first, let's get you and Mayee to the base.”

lacie helped MazaRin get on the bike, then Sam hopped on. MazaRin looked at Mayee for a moment, ordering her to stay with the members before the backups arrived. And with that, the three of them drove through the abandoned streets.

MazaRin watched the scene nearby. Broken buildings scattered around the city, ruins of cars and vans remained ignored on the sidewalks. A cold air blew past, wafting the smell of gunpowder and asphalt. The countries across the world were destroyed within minutes of the arrival of the Empire – leaving no traces behind. Despite causing a ruckus across the world, they didn't manage to destroy one city; the city of Luxmond Bay, where the “Resistance Army” resided.

Compared to the heavy, professional armies the other sovereign nations had, the Resistance was nothing. They didn’t have powerful weapons; the ones they had now were simply foraged, or gifted by anonymous assisting organizations. The only reason they had survived until this long in combat was sheer luck. Every time the Empire launched an attack on them, they simply scurried from one base to another, like a little mouse escaping a cat’s deathtrap. It was only a matter of time until the group would fall into the Empire’s trap; it was inevitable, and they knew it – yet, they tried their best to keep their world from falling into the Empire's hands.

After all, each and every single one of them had protected other worlds from the Empire as the “Main Character” of a game, and they, too, wanted to keep their home safe.

That game was also the one thing that got them this far. It was their common ground; the basis of their first communication, their greatest defense, and the ultimate secret to keep from the Empire.

The motorbike reached another desolate part of the city. The moss and vines growing in the cracks and on the walls of the ruined buildings gave off its seclusion. The bike took a turn, entering a dingy alleyway. It bumped against the cobblestone pathway and endeavored forward until it reached a dead end. The pathway ended at a cliff, overlooking the vast desert beneath. The nearby river provided a much-needed source of water, and a cover of noise.

Sam got off the bike and helped MazaRin get down, though she insisted she was fine and could walk in by herself. lacie parked the bike near the alleyway, to avoid any suspicion. Then, they walked by the edge, over to a building covered in vegetation.

Walking in, their footsteps echoed throughout the empty, abandoned place. They came to a stairwell covered by a signboard reading “Under Construction”, but ignored it, and continued downward. The further they went, the louder the sound of chatter, clamors, and mechanical typing got.

#‎ ‎ ‎ ✎‎ ‎ ‎ | yoon's projects ♡ ₊ ⊹ #‎ ‎ ‎ ✎‎ ‎ ‎ | yoon's aus -` ♡ ´- #lovebrush chronicles au #writing #clarence clayden #alkaid mcgrath #lovebrush chronicles x reader #ayn alwyn #cael anselm #lars rorschach #lovebrush chronicles

[slifarianhawk]

Chapter 2: an invitation (Wriothesley's P.O.V.)

I picked up the lady who moaned at my touch. Her clothes were tattered and now coated in what appeared to be her blood. Thankfully the infirmary was close by and she was in no real danger.

I jogged over to the next hall opening and walked up the steps. Several guards looked on in confusion but I waived them off saying it was fine. I heard Sigewinne discussing the proper treatment of a rash with an older male inmate who frequented the Pankration ring.

"Now be sure to apply this ointment before going to work in the production zone and before you go to bed." Our head nurse said cheerfully.

"Yes, mam. Oh, Your grace! I didn't see you there. What happened someone passed out in the ring and you happened to be there?" The older man asked staring at the woman on my shoulder.

"Nope, not this time. Was doing my rounds and this newbie slipped down the steps to her dorm hallway. That doesn't explain this though." I said lifting the side of her shirt as I laid her down on the middle infirmary bed.

"Oh, so this must be Ms. Silva then. Nuevillette wrote me about her yesterday. He said a new inmate would be coming in pretty badly injured. He said to expect her treatment at the hospital to be less than stellar given what happened between her and the guards." Sigewinne said staring at the wound, "It looks like her stitches were snapped."

"She tripped down one of the connecting flights of stairs leading from her dorm room hall. Could the fall of caused the damage to the stitching?" I asked, crossing my arms.

I stared at the unconscious lady before me. She had striking deep navy hair with some forest green low lights. It was a rather strange combination. I noticed there was blood on the palm of her hand slowly drying in the stale humid air of Meropide.

"The stitching still had to of been struck multiple times for the edges of the wound to be so far apart. Nuevillette did write saying she could have enemies among our guards." Sigewinne said cleaning the wound and restitching it.

I noted that the male visiting Sigewinne earlier had slipped out without saying anything. Sigewinne took her time with closing up the inmate's wound. Then for good measure, she rubbed some of the salve she normally uses on cuts and bruises I obtain when I fight in the ring.

"So her name is Silva? I haven't read her file yet but did notice one titled that in the new inmate paperwork." I said as Sigewinne put away her medical supplies into a locked cabinet after pulling out fresh bandages. 

"That's right! Nuevillette said for me to help her get adjusted. I think he pities her." The human-like Melusine said shaking her head as she wrapped the fresh bandages around Silva's body.

"What makes you think that?" I said in surprise.

"The tone of his letter was different. It wasn't the usual great things about his day or a warning saying she was dangerous. He also said to be on the lookout for withdrawal effects." She said sitting at her desk, "Isn't the champion duelist visiting you soon?"

"Crap, that was why I was doing my rounds. I knew I would be busy for the next few hours." I said walking towards the exit, "Oh Sigewinne, please invite Ms. Silva to my office for tea when she wakes up. No one's first day in Meropide should be spent in the infirmary."

She smiled at me and nodded, "Yes your grace."

I took one last look at Silva. I felt a twang in my chest. She had a sad look on her sleeping face. It reminds me of how I looked after my trial. I shook my head, my hair tufts swishing a bit.

I left the infirmary and headed toward my office. My office... it still feels surreal. It hadn't even been a third of the year since I'd taken control of Meropide. I went from a lowly criminal in the eyes of the law to the Duke of the Fortress. I could have laughed.

I arrived at the cold doors of my office. With an easy push, they swing open welcoming me back to my solidarity. Ascending the metal stairs, I smiled as I heard the smooth jazz that played on my record player.

I walked over to my sofa and grabbed my kettle from the coffee table. It was nice they installed a tea nook when I became Duke. It saves me the trouble of having to boil water in the kitchen.

"Let's see, what blend do I drink with Ms. Clorinde? Hmm... it's about time for dinner so how about... ahh here it is Fontainian Garden." I said pulling out the glass jar with the loose tea leaves.

This was an uncommon item in the rag and bones shop so I bought it whenever I could. Hopefully, Clorinde likes this blend. She was quite picky when it came to tea.

There was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I ask out placing a couple of spoonfuls of the leaves into the kettle.

"It's Clorinde. Come on Wriothesley, open the door. We have important things that need to be discussed." A harsh female voice rang out.

"Coming!" I shouted setting down the pot.

I walked down the stairs and opened the door. In front of me was Clorinde with a decent-sized crate behind her. I raised my brow and gave her a funny look.

"I thought you said we were just going to be friends," I said crossing my arms and smiling, "didn't expect you to want to move in after what happened."

Clorinde just glared at me and shoved past, "Just grab the crate Wriothesley. It's your new prisoner's belongings. Not much gets to me but the thought of that woman just skipping

"Alright, alright, Archons you seem like you need a cup of tea. Thankfully I have some brewing." I said lift the crate and brought it into my office.

Closing the door, I ascended the stairs. Clorinde sat down on the couch. I shook my head and sat the box down on my desk. The kettle started whistling as I grabbed the sugar from the bookshelf. I plopped two cubes into a cup and poured the slightly red-colored tea.

"Care for a cup?" I asked looking over my shoulder.

"If you insist. One sugar cube would be nice, please." She said her shoulders relaxing as she laid back and got comfortable.

"So this is the girl who landed ten guards in the hospital. I haven't read her file yet but the steambird sure had decent coverage on it. Said she took them out with a dendro vision. If that's the case why wasn't she sent here as a precaution? That's what they do with dangerous prisoners. It's protocol so why wasn't it followed." I said curiously pouring Clorinde's tea and placing one cube in it.

I sat at my desk placing her teacup at the top of it. She stood up and shuffled through the files until she uncovered Ms. Silva's. Handing me the file she walked back towards that couch, taking her tea.

"Take a look and you will understand." She said.

"You know it's rude to rifle through someone's work desk," I smirked as I opened the file.

"Just read it, then we can proceed with the main reason why I am here." Clorinde huffed.

I started skimming the folder. There wasn't much on Ms. Silva. Her travel records show she came through the Chenyu vale of Liyue and was in Mondstat before that on a job for Dr. Baizhu of Bubu pharmacy in Liyue. She wrote down that her reason for traveling to Fontaine was research. That didn't explain much either.

"Weird how there is so little right, Wriothesley? Normally we would have all her information. We contacted Liyue, Sumeru, and Mondstat. They only have records of her traveling for research. We could only assume she's from Inazuma as her first record is a travel permit to  Liyue from Ritou. It was commissioned by an Ayato Kamisato. Every one of her permits is for research. Nuevillette asked me to bring the belongings from her hotel room and search through the items with you." Clorinde said taking a sip of the warm beverage in her hand.

I continued to read over the file and a note from Monsieur Nuevillette shocked me. I could hear his voice as I read the line.

"Ms. Silva was attacked and drugged using a potent Dendro drug that has been spreading like wildfire through the court of Fontaine. While there have been only a few deaths due to this drug. Ms. Silva has shown us that those with dendritic energy have a horrific effect on these drugs. A Dendritic energy overcharge causes a massive burst of the Dendro element dealing damage once the user is put under stress. What Ms. Silva told me has led me to believe that there is a tie between this drug and a dendro dragon. Keep an eye on her at all costs Wriothesley. Something tells me she will be the key to solving this case." His voice rang in my ears.

"WRIOTHESLEY!" Clorinde shouted snapping me out of my trance.

"Huh, oh sorry Clorinde. It's just Nuevillette's notes. They just have me a little on edge." I said setting down the file and picking up my now cooled tea.

"I was trying to say that you should be careful with regarding her. I just have a bad feeling, call it hunter intuition." She said setting her empty cup down.

"I will now let's get going through this stuff I'm sure Ms. Silva would at least like some of this stuff back. As long as it is appropriate for the fortress of course." I said prying open the wooden box.

As the box cracked open, I was met with a soft aroma. It reminded me of walking into a luxury tea shop in the city.  When the lid came off there was a multitude of sealed glass jars with many varieties of herbs. They seemed to be being kept fresh by cut mist flowers. I've seen the corollas being used but not whole flowers.

"So it seems she does not possess a vision after all," Clorinde said sifting through a small pile of folded clothes.

"There is a small silk pouch right here," I said picking up the purple purse, and with an unfortunate turn of events the contents spilled out.

"Letters and documents?" Clorinde said picking up the papers strewn about.

I glanced down and saw a lovely wax seal of a glaze lily on a golden letter, "What's this?"

"I have no clue. It must be important and it has been opened previously. Why don't you go ahead and read it?" Clorinde asked.

"Everyone has the right to privacy. In one sense or the other. I have no search warrant, so I won't read it." I said setting it down on her pile of documents, a smirk growing on my lips, "I'll ask her directly."

"And how do you plan on doing that? From what I heard from the guard who escorted her, she fell and passed out." Clorinde said crossing her arms.

"Did he now? Because from what Sigewinne has told me she had to of been shoved multiple times with relatively decent force. She was bleeding  when she fell right in front of me." I said with a slight growl in my voice.

One thing I detested among my staff was lying to higher-ups. I knew lying to prisoners was sometimes unavoidable, however, lying to me or a champion duelist would get my blood boiling. Clorinde stared at me with mild shock in her eyes.

"Sigh, I'll leave this to you then but your grace as a friend I have some advice for you." She said as she walked to the stairs.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" I asked staring at the golden envelope.

"Don't forget Nuevillette's warning. That woman is a danger." I heard Clorinde say as she exited my office.

"Tsk. I can handle myself. This is Meropide. No newbie could cause that much of a distraction. Her sorrowful sleeping face came to my mind. Could she?

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x oc #genshin impact #wriothesley #romance #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfics

[cherrifire]

Archived in the Southlands: Turn the White Snow Red

Case #0211905-B

Original recording of Ren Dog and Martyn Littlewood's road trip to the Dogwarts Valley hunting grounds.

[Martyn] Remember, you can back out at any time. But once you find me and I swing the axe, there’s no going back. [Ren] I know. [Martyn] Are you scared? [Ren] Terrified.

Word count: 3089

Be sure to read Case #0211905-A before this one.

[AU Masterpost]

[Click]

(Car trunk closing.)

[Martyn] Okay. I think that's everything. If we leave now, we'll get to the hunting grounds by midnight. Which is surprisingly the perfect time to do this.

[Ren] Are you sure about this?

[Martyn] I think I should be the one asking you that.

[Ren] I mean, are you sure Dogwarts Valley is a good location?

[Martyn] It's the best we got on such short notice. Why? Do you have a better place in mind?

[Ren] No, no. It's just- I used to go there with my family sometimes and I forgot.

[Martyn] Remember any early experiences with The Hunt? Dogwarts is a pretty strong place for it.

[Ren] No. I just get a strange feeling in the back of my head when I think about the place.

[Martyn] Shame. I was hoping to drag a second statement out of you.

[Ren] You can't just snack on my brain like that, dude.

[Martyn] Your statement was bland anyway. Tasted like a dog biscuit I mistook for a cookie once.

[Ren] Stop messing with me. You can't actually taste the statements.

[Martyn] Are you sure about that?

[Ren] Dude, I'm forced to answer all your questions! Could you just answer one of mine without being cryptic?

[Martyn] Ren, who's your favourite My Little Pony character?

(Static)

[Ren] AppleJack.

[Martyn] (Gasp) Really!?!?

[Ren] Dang it, Martyn! Stop that, you filthy animal!

(Martyn laughs.)

[Click]

-

[Click]

(Sounds of inside a moving car.)

[Ren] I have a question

[Martyn] Shoot, I'm quite literally The Eye's personal filing cabinet.

[Ren] The Entities feed off the fear of all living things, right?

[Martyn] Well, feed implies they need it. In all honesty, I don't know why they're trying to scare us. Maybe they do need it, maybe they're just messing with us, I don't know. But yes, whatever it is, it affects all living things that experience fear.

[Ren] Then shouldn't the animals on grounds be enough? Do you have to be there?

[Martyn] Yes.

[Ren] Why?

[Martyn] Well, first, you need someone to… uh- y'know, chop your head off so The Hunt has the opportunity to fully claim you.

[Ren] But there's more to it, isn't there?

[Martyn] Oh geez, okay, how do I explain this…

Imagine you're a king leading a giant army that'll do whatever you ask at a wave of your hand. You have thousands of soldiers off at war, and thousands more on the sideline waiting for your command. You have your favourites, but it's impossible to keep track of all your soldiers let alone the peasants within your city walls.

Then one day, one of those peasants shows up at the castle gates with an enemy soldier in their arms. And upon closer examination, that little soldier is the right-hand man to a king you've been at war with for decades. Sure, the peasant and the soldier staged the whole thing and they have an escape plan ready once the peasant becomes a knight. But you don't know that.

[Ren] And there's still a chance the king won't notice…

[Martyn] Or he might not care.

[Ren] Right…

(A pause.)

[Martyn] Remember, you can back out at any time. But once you find me and I swing the axe, there’s no going back.

[Ren] I know.

[Martyn] Are you scared?

[Ren] Terrified.

[Martyn] Good. Me too.

[Click]

-

[Click]

(Sounds of inside a moving car.)

[Ren] So you're going to go for the neck, right? For drama?

[Martyn] What!?

[Ren] Earlier, you said you’d chop my head off. I mean, come on Martyn, we have to give The Hunt a show. It'll be just like that play you helped me practice months ago! You remember the one? The Rise of the Red King.

[Martyn] Ren, that’s not funny!

[Ren] Me Hand, I’m going to ask yee for the first part of tonight's test, to do a terrible, terrible thing.

[Martyn] (Laughing) Ren, this is serious.

[Ren] I’m going to ask yee, me hand, me loyal friend, to slice the head off yee king.

[Martyn] I don’t know if I can do it, m’lord. It goes against everything that I swore! Back in like- maybe act 2. I don't know what it was.

(Ren and Martyn both laugh.)

[Click]

-

[Click]

(A few clicks of a gas pump being hung up.)

(Martyn sighs.)

(Extended sound of crickets chirping in the night.)

[Martyn] It's getting colder. Summer nights always feel like winter to me.

(Ren hums a response, distracted.)

(A pause.)

[Ren] What if I hurt you too?

[Martyn] What's that?

[Ren] When we get to Dogwarts, what if it takes over like it did last night and I hurt you?

[Martyn] You probably will.

[Ren] That doesn't help.

[Martyn] No, it doesn't. But it's the truth.

(A pause.)

Here… Take this.

[Ren] What?

[Martyn] Take it. Use it as an anchor. Or to track me, I don't care. You're a sentimental guy, right?

[Ren] But you never take your bandana off.

[Martyn] And you never take that bow off.

[Ren] I guess so. I kinda forgot, but this is the Dogwarts pattern. My parents got it for me. It makes me feel… safer, somehow.

[Martyn] Oh, wow. I just wear this bandana because it looks cool.

[Ren] (A soft laugh) It does make you look cool, I'll give you that. But I can't take it.

[Martyn] Why not?

(Static)

[Ren] Because it feels like you’re giving me a parting gift. Like you think one of us won’t make it.

(A pause.)

You really have to stop doing that, dude.

[Martyn] Oh shoot- I didn’t mean to that time, I swear!

[Ren] It’s… Fine.

(A pause.)

(Martyn sighs.)

(Footsteps on pavement as he approaches Ren.)

What are you-

[Martyn] You take the bandana. And if this thing is really protecting you, then I’ll… take the bow! There! Aren’t I cute?

[Ren] (Laughing) You look ridiculous, dude.

[Martyn] And you… actually, look really cool. Now that's just not fair.

[Ren] Well, thank you.

[Martyn] But now you have to survive so you can give me my bandana back, and I have to survive so I can give you your bow.

[Ren] I guess that's… sort of better.

[Martyn] Good. Now let's get back on the road.

(Car door opens.)

[Ren] Okay.

[Click]

-

[Click]

(Sounds of inside a moving car.)

(Martyn is humming along to a soft and quiet song on the radio. Most will recognize it as "When Can I See You Again?")

[Ren] Martyn?

[Martyn] Yeah?

[Ren] Did the recorder just turn on all on its own?

(The radio is turned off.)

[Martyn] Probably. It tends to do that when something important is happening. I actually never hit record, I just assume it'll turn on for me.

I'm surprised it took you this long to realize.

[Ren] I see… that's… concerning.

[Martyn] oOoOo oh no! Maybe I'll start info dumping again! Mansplain you to death.

[Ren] (Laughing) You're unbelievable.

[Martyn] But it turned on for a reason anyway. Did you have a question for me?

[Ren] Can I know your favourite My Little Pony character?

[Martyn] No. That stays between me and The Eye.

[Ren] Dude, are you serious? That's not fair!

(A pause.)

I bet it’s Rainbow Dash.

[Martyn] (Offended) What makes you say that!?

[Ren] It’s the massive ego.

(Martyn starts to make offended sounds of protest, struggling to find a response. Ren starts laughing.)

I’m right! Aren’t I?

[Martyn] Don’t look at me like that.

(Ren starts to laugh harder and it isn’t long before Martyn starts to laugh as well.)

[Ren] I knew it!

(Ren continues to laugh, but Martyn suddenly stops.)

[Martyn] Wait-

(Ren stops laughing as well.)

(Static)

Oh. Oh no.

[Ren] Martyn? Martyn, What's wrong?

[Martyn] REN LOOK OUT!

(A loud STOMP as Ren slams on the brakes.)

(Tires screeching against the road.)

(Martyn and Ren scream.)

[Click]

-

[Click]

(Extended sound of heavy footsteps on grass.)

[Martyn] Ren- Ren, slow down! You're going too fast I-

[Ren] Don't you dare let go!

[Martyn] Ren we can't keep running like this! You have to do something!

(The footsteps stop and there's a 'thud' and an "oomf" of Martyn bumping into Ren.)

(They're both quiet for a moment and that silence is broken by a howl in the distance.)

Look- I can't do anything- I- I get to know things but even then, The Eye is barely spoon-feeding me anything useful right now. I don’t even know who it’s hunting.

[Ren] I know.

[Martyn] What-?

[Ren] I can feel it boiling in my blood. It wants me to rip you apart. Bit by bit.

[Martyn] But you won't… right?

[Ren] Not yet. Right now, you're bait.

(Bushes rustle and a low growl can be heard in the distance. It's accompanied by a strange crackling sound as well.)

[Martyn] Jesus christ- What Is that thing!?

(The snarling grows louder and the crackling starts to layer.)

(Fast paws on grass as the creature charges.)

[Ren] I've got this.

(Ren huffs in preparation then shouts as he swings a heavy weapon. It collides with something wet and something snaps under the impact. The beast whimpers and hits the ground before it starts to growl once more.)

(Ren swings again with a hefty grunt. There's another large snap accompanied by more whimpers.)

(A third swing. Nothing follows.)

(A fourth swing. Nothing follows.)

(A fifth swing and Ren starts to laugh.)

[Martyn] Ren…?

[Ren] Now, I have you all to myself, Archivist. You might want to start running.

(Quick footsteps against grass as Martyn starts to run.)

(Ren can be heard laughing in the distance.)

[Click]

-

[Click]

(Car door opens. Martyn climbs inside and then slams the door shut.)

(A click of the doors being locked.)

[Martyn] I knew this was a bad idea!

(A key turns in the ignition but the engine is failing to start)

Come on- come on! This is the kind of shit that’s supposed to only happen in movies! Come on!

(Static)

Oh no…

(Something heavy SLAMS on top of the car. Martyn takes in a sharp breath, then goes quiet.)

[Ren] (muffled, behind glass.) Aww, leaving so soon?

(Claws against metal, screeching.)

What's the plan, Martyn? Leave me here all alone? I thought we were friends.

[Martyn] You took my axe! I can't defend myself!

[Ren] Defend yourself? From what?

[Martyn] From you!

[Ren] Me??? Martyn, I’d never hurt you.

[Martyn] You're lying.

[Ren] Am I?

[Martyn] What are y-

(A heavy fist slams into the window, glass cracking.)

[Ren] I'm getting real tired of your questions, Archivist.

(Martyn picks up the recorder and moves from the front seat to the back. Ren laughs at it.)

It's like watching a bug squirm around in the cup you trapped it under.

[Martyn] Oh, I bet you're just loving this.

[Ren] I do find it amusing, yes. But I'm sure you can guess what comes next.

[Martyn] You're going to let me go.

[Ren] I even left your axe somewhere in the woods for you. Aren't I nice?

[Martyn] But then you're going to hunt me down.

[Ren] I could give you a head start. After all, what are friends for?

[Martyn] Friends don't hunt each other for sport, Ren!

(Claws against metal again, warping and crushing it.)

[Ren] Friends also don’t force each other to reveal their deepest fears, Martyn!

[Martyn] I-

[Ren] I’ll give you 1 minute to get out and start running before I crawl in there and drag you out myself.

(Shaking of a door handle, then the small click of the doors unlocking and the door opening immediately after.)

(Martyn bolts, his footsteps heavy on the grass as Ren’s laugh quickly fades out of range.)

[Click]

-

[Click]

[Martyn] (Out of breath) If I make it out of this alive-

(He stops to catch his breath.)

I'm never touching grass again.

(A pause.)

Is that… snow?

[Ren] (Distant) Martyn!

[Martyn] Shit-

[Click]

-

[Click]

(Extended sound of footsteps on snow. It’s calm.)

(Martyn sighs and stops walking.)

(Static)

(He continues walking.)

[Martyn] I can hear him lurking in the distance. He’s far enough so I don’t start running but close enough so I’m on edge. He’s just… Watching. Isn’t that funny?

(A pause.)

I know he’s messing with me… I mean, obviously. It’s The Hunt, that’s what The Hunt does… It likes to play with its food. It chases. It hunts. I just…

(Shouting) I just wish he’d get it over with!

(Silence)

(Martyn sighs again.)

I’m so tired of this. I’m sweaty, I’m cold, I’m afraid, and Ren’s bow feels like a giant target on my head! Of course he’d find a magnet for The Hunt comforting. He’s actually insane. Because this stupid tape recorder is not making me feel any better! So that’s not fair!

Stupid piece of JUNK!

(Martyn throws the tape recorder and it lands in the snow. He walks away and it’s silent for about a minute before he comes running back.)

I take it back- where’d I throw it!?

(Martyn picks up the recorder and sighs.)

(A pause.)

(Ren can be heard laughing in the distance.)

(Another pause.)

(Shouting) I hate this by the way! If you even care!

[Ren] Of course I care.

[Martyn] Fuck-

[Click]

-

[Click]

(Extended sound of heavy breathing and running. Twigs snapping, leaves crunching, and heavy footsteps on snow.)

[Martyn] SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

(Ren can be heard laughing in the distance.)

[Click]

-

[Click]

(Extended silence except for the sound of something softly dripping onto the ground accompanied by Martyn's heavy breaths.)

[Martyn] I…

(He pauses. The silence returns as Martyn tries to catch his breath.)

You made me do it! I had no choice! I-

(Another pause.)

What have I done…

(The axe is dropped to the ground, soft against the snow.)

(Martyn also falls to his knees.)

(Extended silence.)

(Static)

Ren?

(Martyn gasps and lets out a cry in agony. A weak laugh comes from Ren and it’s accompanied by the snapping and popping of joints. As Ren’s laugh turns more sinister and lowers in pitch, there’s a heavy growl that rises in its place.) 

Ah-! Ren- Ren, you’re digging into- AH- You have to let go! Your claws- They hurt!

(Ren’s voice is low and harsh, inhuman.)

[Ren] Martyn.

[Martyn] Ren you have to listen to me-

[Ren] Martyn…

[Martyn] Look- Ren. You caught me. You can let go n-

(Increased growling. Pained cries are accompanied by the sound of ripping flesh. Martyn tries to laugh through the pain.)

The hunt- The one you told me about in your statement- It’s over! I’m not going anywhere!

I promise!

(The growling slows then stops. Martyn lets out a shaky sigh of relief as Ren releases him.)

[Ren] (Closer to normal but still rough) Martyn?

[Martyn] Yeah, it’s me.

[Ren] You’re here.

[Martyn] I’m here.

[Click]

-

[Click]

(Extended silence.)

(Martyn takes a sharp breath.)

[Ren] Sorry!

[Martyn] It’s okay.

(A pause)

[Ren] These scratches are so bad. And this one on your hand… I’m so sorry Martyn. How on Earth are you still alive?

[Martyn] Freaky magic shenanigans.

[Ren] No kidding.

[Martyn] I packed a few statements in the back. They’ll help.

[Ren] Is that really how it works?

[Martyn] You just had the hunt of your life, you tell me.

[Ren] Okay. Let me grab one for you.

(Car door opens and Ren gets out. The trunk opens and Ren rummages through their things.)

(Distant) Is there a specific one you want?

[Martyn] Not really. Why do you ask?

[Ren] I wasn’t sure if you were serious about my statement tasting like a dog biscuit.

[Martyn] (Laughing) No, I was messing with you.

(The trunk slams shut.)

[Ren] Alright. I grabbed a Hunt statement. Hope that’s okay.

[Martyn] (Laughing) Of course you did. That’s fine.

(Ren hands him the papers.)

[Ren] While you read that, I’ll see if I can find someone to help us get home at the Dogwarts lodge. I’m sure you don’t want me around right now-

[Martyn] No! No, I-... I want you to stay.

[Ren] After what I did? Are you insane? Why?

(A pause.)

[Martyn] Do you want to know why I stayed last night instead of running away like everyone else?

[Ren] Because you could just look at me and I'd crumble into a billion pieces.

[Martyn] What?

[Ren] Dude, I don't know what you can do!

[Martyn] No, I- I stayed because even if I was scared, I couldn't… You…

(A pause.)

The thought of leaving your side is scarier than everything I went through tonight.

[Ren] Martyn…

(Martyn coughs as he tries to laugh.)

[Martyn] You took me in when I was a lonely traveller-

[Ren] Are you being serious right now?

[Martyn] Going across the lands, searching the four corners of this world.

[Ren] (Laughing) Martyn you are literally dying in the back seat of my car. Could you please be serious?

[Martyn] You taught me the play.

[Ren] I-

[Martyn] (With force) I learnt there was nothing in this world for me! And you know what?!?

[Ren] I know you missed a line.

[Martyn] You showed me life! As much as I’ve taken it from you, you gave it back to me in buckets fulls!

(Sincere) So I'm with you. This is us now…

This is us.

(A pause.)

[Ren] Okay.

(Ren crawls back into the car and closes the door behind him.)

Read me the statement.

[Martyn] Of course, Ren.

[Click]

-

[Click]

[Ren] Watch your step. I’ve got you.

(Footsteps up a few stairs.)

(Door opens accompanied by a bell chime.)

[???] Good morning! Welcome to Dogwarts Valley! I'll be with you in just a- Oh my word! Are you two okay?

[Martyn] Yeah, just a few scratches. Not a big deal.

[Ren] I crashed our car and we lost our phones. We just need a way back to the city.

[???] Right- Yes! I’ll get something on the way for you guys. Are you sure you’re both okay? No offence, but you look awful.

[Martyn] It’s alright. We’re both more than okay, promise.

[Ren] I'm actually feeling better than ever right now.

[???] That’s a relief. I’m just worried. People sometimes get into a lot of trouble with the animals around here. In any case, is there anything I can get you guys while we wait?

[Martyn] Actually, yes.

[Ren] I think we’ll take a few banners. I've grown attached to the pattern.

[Martyn] And tell me about the trouble you've been having with the animals while we’re here.

(Static)

[Click]

-

Read the next part: Case #0211905-C

#cherri.writes #the southland archives #trafficblr #renchantyn #renchanting duo

[direwombat]

a wip wednesday? on my birthday? it's more likely than you think 🎉

tagged by @adelaidedrubman and @g0dspeeed to share some wip (tysm~! <3)

enjoy the first little bit of katc chapter 6/interlude ii

Hope County, MT. September 13, 2018. St. Francis Veterans Center, Whitetail Mountains. 10:35pm.

Toiling away by the light of a single desk lamp, Jacob Seed sits hunched over his desk, going over the day’s reports. Throughout the course of the evening, his reading glasses have slipped down the bridge of his nose and now perch at its tip. His neck and shoulders ache, but the night isn’t over yet.

Years of meticulous planning and intense preparation have gotten them this far, but all that time, they were operating in the shadows. They were outcasts by choice, keeping to themselves and biding their time until given the order to strike. Joseph had taken care to amass an army, just as Jacob, John, and Faith kept them well trained, motivated, and dumb. But now that the Reaping has begun, now that they’ve declared war, they need to act fast

Victory is never a guarantee, and the longer the fight goes on, the more likely it is that the Resistance will start gaining ground. The element of surprise is gone; now, he and his soldiers are digging in for the long fight. 

This is his final stand against the world who wronged him. His swan song. His way of ensuring a better future for his brothers and sister to make up for the way he failed once before. 

He will not fail again. He can’t. 

Just as Noah survived the flood, so too will they survive the fires of war. 

And when his family is safe -- when they’re underground, hibernating in the safety of their bunkers, he can finally rest. He’ll watch the world burn, and when the smoke fills his lungs and his body gives out from exhaustion, he’ll lay his head down and close his eyes one last time. 

His work will be done. He’ll have served his purpose.

But until then, he must remain vigilant and on guard. He is their sword and shield. He has a purpose, and he can’t allow himself a moment’s weakness until that purpose is fulfilled. 

He sits up and groans as his spine realigns and a series of violent pops sound loudly in the silence of his office. With a heavy sigh, he lets the report he’d been reading float back down onto his desk. His hand reaches for the mug that rests off to the side and lifts it to his lips. The coffee inside has gone from tepid to cold since he last took a sip. His face scrunches involuntarily, the acrid bitterness too much, even for him. 

Rising from his desk, he takes a moment to stretch before moving over to the coffee maker resting on one of his filing cabinets for a refill. What’s left in the carafe is still warm, and he stops pouring only when the surface tension threatens to break. Carefully lifting the mug once again, he takes a sip. It burns his tongue and he breathes a small sigh of relief. That’s better. 

His attention turns to the bulletin board on the nearby wall and regards it with a critical eye. He’d been adding pins and grainy photographs to it as he’s been getting reports in. Overall, the Reaping has been going according to plan -- at least according to his Chosen. He holds an iron grip over the Whitetails, and according to the faxes he’s received from the Valley and Henbane, the infantry has done well to overpower the average citizen of the county.

His men are all in position and the outposts are secure. Roadblocks are in place at all entrances and exits to the Whitetails and there are regular boat patrols along the shores. Radio jammers are blocking all non-Project frequencies, cutting off enemy communication. Jess Black has been captured and is being held at the lumber mill, and Deputy Pratt is set to be shipped to the Grand View for conditioning at dawn. 

And with the rogue Deputy currently in John’s custody, he can focus his attention on neutralizing the one threat that’s his own damn fault. 

Eli Palmer knows too much.

Jacob should have known it was a mistake to trust him. Bringing in outsiders is always dangerous, but he’d been so sure he could convince Eli to join the cause. He was a former soldier and current prepper. He saw the state of the world; knew it was only a matter of time before it came to an end. It’s how he’d convinced the man to help build the bunkers in the first place. He never said anything to confirm or deny, but he’d allowed Eli to think that the bunkers were meant for everyone in the county. Or, at least he did up until a few weeks ago when he’d asked him to join the project; fight as one of his Chosen. 

After all Jacob had done to give Eli purpose -- especially after his wife took the kid and ran -- all he got in return was betrayal. The other man had all but spit in his face before sneaking away in the dead of night not just with the blueprints for the Armory, but his siblings’ bunkers as well. He’s been hiding somewhere in the Whitetails ever since, and if Jacob’s intel is to be believed, then it sounds like Eli’s trying to piece together his own army to fight back. 

The very man who helped build their arks -- their salvation -- could just as easily destroy them. Jacob needs to stop that before it happens. He needs to nip that little problem in the bud before Eli gathers enough bodies to launch a counter-attack. 

Eli Palmer needs to die.  

tagging: @wrathfulrook, @harmonyowl, @ivymarquis, @jillvalentinesday, @cassietrn, @poetikat, @confidentandgood, @strafethesesinners, @afarcry5fromstraight, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @inafieldofdaisies, @josephslittledeputy, @aceghosts, @madparadoxum, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @voidika, @strangefable (taglist opt in/out)

#wip wednesday #wip: kneeling at the crossroads #i love writing jacob's pov he takes himself so comically seriously #syb'll humble that out of him eventually

[karatekels]

Okay so this one's inspired by your latest work🤭.

What do you think about an enemies to lovers kinda gig with kk3 Terry 👀

The reader is an employee at Dynatox, she's the best they have, other than Margaret of course. But she doesn't like him😏

He obviously finds it rather interesting that someone isn't quite charmed by him for once. A good game of cat and mouse and eventually she'd fall for him,but not after pushing his buttons at some event he's hosting. Maybe entertaining some guy for the time being to see the jealousy pour out of Terry...

I love love love your writing so this one was hard to resist 🤍

Ooooh, this one is fun! Thanks for the request, and I hope you enjoy! It's a long one, friends, so BUCKLE UP.

TW: Very inappropriate workplace relationships, rough sex, spanking, dirty talk, Terry being a possessive, controlling asshole (we love him for it)

Also, I will only half-apologize for using the “gay friend pretends to be boyfriend” trope, because *I know* that it’s a horrible cliché but I couldn’t resist.

---

Cat & Mouse

---

“Y/N, Mr. Silver wants to see the Cambodia report,” your assistant tells you, sticking her head into your office.

“It’s in the filing cabinet, second drawer,” you respond, not looking up from your desk. You had enough on your plate, and this was what assistants were for, after all. You still feel her eyes on you from the doorway after a moment, and look up at her expectantly. She hesitates.

“He asked for you specifically, Y/N,” she adds, and you suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

“Of course he did,” you mutter, taking a calming breath. “Thank you, Jess,” you add, dismissing her with a smile, which you drop the instant she closes the door.

Your boss, Terry Silver, did this every so often, asking you to do things outside of your job description so he would have an excuse to pester you. It wasn’t overt enough to be flirting, but it was insistent to the point of getting annoying. You were here to work, and you were damn good at your job; you hadn’t come to a company like Dynatox to be eye candy for the boss.

Dynatox was always ranked among the top of Fortune 500 companies, and you knew that continuing to work your way up the ranks here would open all kinds of doors for you. It wasn’t as if you didn’t like your job – you loved it, and you were good at it, and if your boss would just let you be it would be an ideal position. If he could just stop with the teasing…

He likely wasn’t even actually interested in you; people like him – rich, attractive, successful – were just used to everyone fawning all over them, throwing themselves at them, and he was likely just put out that you didn’t have time for that bullshit. It was all probably just a cat and mouse game to him, and so he had decided to do what all children do when they don’t get what they want: pester, and prod, and tease, the equivalent of pulling on your pigtails in the schoolyard.

Fortunately, you were a professional, and had thus far been able to maintain a no-nonsense approach when it came to responding to his flirting, all while remaining respectful. He couldn’t be annoyed at your refusal to play along with his dumb little games.

Sighing, you retrieve the needed file from the cabinet and make for Mr. Silver’s office, just wanting to get this over with. Approaching the door, you knock twice, stepping inside after his “Come in!” and pointedly leaving the door open. This would be a quick delivery; no funny business.

He’s lounging in his office chair, feet on his desk, crossed at the ankles, casually looking over a file in his lap as though he hadn’t expected you to walk into his office. He looks up at you after a moment, smiling brightly at you, tossing the file onto his desk carelessly.

“If it isn’t Miss L/N! How’s my favourite employee?” he asks cheekily. You bite the inside of your cheek.

What a fucking schmuck.

“I have the Cambodia report for you, Mr. Silver,” you reply, ignoring his greeting. Approaching the desk, you slap the file down next to his polished shoes. He picks up the file, unperturbed by your clear annoyance, and lazily peruses it while you stand there, silently seething.

“Will that be all, Mr. Silver?” you ask, trying not to grind your teeth. He holds up a finger, not taking his eyes off of the document. You think you can see a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips and immediately start calculating your anticipated bonus check for the end of the year in your head, needing a distraction to prevent yourself from leaning over the desk and slapping his stupid, perfectly sculpted face. Why did the worst people seem to have all the luck?

Nodding once, he snaps the file shut, extending it towards you with a smirk. You move to take it from him, but he doesn’t let it go.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” he asks, blue eyes twinkling at you. His flirting had become outright brazen lately, and you briefly wonder if HR would even bother with a sexual misconduct case against the Big Man himself. You doubted it.

“Yes, Mr. Silver,” you lie, tugging the file out of his hands. “I need to finish on time today,” you add pointedly, and he smiles placatingly at you.

“Very well then. Thank you Y/N, that will be all,” he dismisses you. You turn on your heel and leave his office without another word, grumpy that he had wasted your time in order to ogle you yet again.

--- Terry’s POV ---

Terry takes the time to check you out as you all but storm out of his office, his eyes running from your high heels up your toned calves to where your legs disappeared into your pencil skirt, grinning wolfishly at your back.

God, he loved riling you up.

You had been with the company for two years now, working your way up the corporate ladder, but he had only been introduced to you a few months ago, when you’d been promoted to the point that you would be working on the same floor as him. He had heard your name before, of course, as everyone praised your work ethic and talent, but he hadn’t been told that you were fine as hell, especially in your tight skirts.

He had wanted you immediately, going out of his way to call you into his office at the earliest opportunity for a casual “introduction to the boss.”

He had been incredibly charming, planning on reeling you in by that single meeting alone, and he knew that you were aware of his intentions, but you brushed him off, seemingly unaffected by his flirting.

Initially, he had been baffled.

He was Terry Silver, international playboy extraordinaire. He was rich, handsome, successful, charming… he was the whole package, and you had dismissed him without a second thought, your face impassive except for the raising of one elegant eyebrow, asking him if that would be all.

Fuck no, that wouldn’t be all. He had far more in store for you, and he intended to get to work at the earliest opportunity.

The more he pursued, the more determined you were to refuse him, and it was starting to drive him batty. There had been a few nights at home, high out of his mind on cocaine, where he debated just taking you, wanting you out of his system by any means necessary. But no, you also had to be an exemplary employee, and he knew from experience just how hard those were to find.

Was it so much to ask for you to pull double-duty, working hard for the company and letting him work you hard on your time off? Terry didn’t think so.

So, he had been biding his time somewhat, settling for increasingly salacious flirting at the office, making excuses to be in your presence as often as possible. And damn but if he didn’t start to actually like you; your sarcasm and quick wit making him actually look forward to seeing the fire in your eyes as he came onto you yet again.

Yes, the chase had become quite fun… but the time had come for the predator to snatch up his prey.

He needed a way to get you to loosen up around him, somewhere where you couldn’t use work as an excuse to escape him.

Terry presses the intercom on his desk, summoning Margaret into his office.

They had some planning to do.

--- Reader’s POV ---

The office is abuzz the next day as you arrive to work, and it has you on edge immediately. People excitable at a company like Dynatox was never a good sign. Was it another lawsuit? Some scandal at one of their competitors? Deciding not to try to guess the source of the gossip, you walk to your office to get to work; it would find its way to you eventually.

Sure enough, your assistant sticks her head in your office within the first hour of the day.

“Y/N! Did you hear?” Jess exclaims excitedly, looking mildly annoyed by the blank stare you give her in response. “Ahh, check your mail and read the memo from Mr. Silver! It’s going to be great!”

Sighing, you pull the stack of papers out of the “incoming” basket for mail on your desk, flipping through until you come to the memo, printed in glossy colour. Skimming it quickly, you see that Mr. Silver has announced a mandatory gala for all employees the weekend after next, to celebrate the success of the company.

So now you were going to have to come in on the weekend and deal with his crap? Lovely.

There was a post-it note stuck to the bottom of the memo.

See you there. – T.S.

Seething, you crumple the note in your palm, tossing it into the bin. You half-believed this party was just some scheme to further annoy you. It was ridiculous to think so, but the man was ridiculously persistent, and you wouldn’t put it past him. What was it going to take for him to finally drop it and leave you alone?

You move to toss the flyer away, but text at the bottom – previously covered by the Post-It – catches your eye.

Those who wish to bring a guest should RSVP to Margaret as soon as possible.

You bite your tongue to fight back what would have been a particularly wicked grin. Bingo.

Sticking your head out of your office door, you tell Jess that you were taking an important call and were not to be disturbed, closing the door firmly behind you.

You had some planning to do.

---

Your scheming had gone on for longer than you had anticipated, so you had had to stay late at the office to finish your work, but you were now finally ready to go home. You were exhausted, but it had been worth it; you were almost looking forward to the party now.

You head into the elevator, enjoying that you were the only one that stuck around this late and could breathe comfortably for once in the normally cramped space. That is, until a large, bejeweled hand appears between the nearly-closed doors, causing them to open again.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Mr. Silver looms in the doorway, smiling down at you before striding into the elevator, standing far closer to you than necessary in the otherwise empty space. You tense up, but don’t take the bait, standing your ground.

“Hey, Y/N! Wow, you’re here late – burning the midnight oil?” He quips, irritatingly chipper for this time of night.

“Yes, Mr. Silver, I had a few loose ends to tie up,” you respond, trying to keep the smirk out of your voice.

“It’s dedication like that that makes this company so successful,” he replies cheerily. You nod tightly in response, wishing for the first time you hadn’t worked your way up to such a high-up office. The elevator was taking forever.

“That’s why I couldn't help but put on the gala next weekend,” he continues, clearly goading you. You feel his gaze at the back of your head, but stubbornly refuse to turn around. “I hope you’re excited!”

With only a couple floors to go, you can’t resist the opportunity to wipe what is most assuredly a shit-eating grin off the man’s face. You turn to face him, giving him a beaming smile that definitely takes him by surprise.

“Absolutely, Mr. Silver,” you say, forcing every shred of enthusiasm you can muster into your tone. “Me and my date will see you there, boss!”

The elevator doors open at the perfect time, and you turn to exit, walking away without another word to the man, fighting the urge to turn around and see his reaction. You’d have the chance to appreciate it at the gala.

--- Terry’s POV ---

Terry broods in the back of the limo on the way home, trying not to bite the end off his cigar in his anger. A date? There was no way. He regularly paid employees to feed him gossip, asking several in particular to get information about you from your assistant; the girl was an open book. She had never mentioned you being in a relationship; you had told her you were focused on your career. Had you lied to her? You didn’t seem the type, but then, you were a private person.

He had a couple of weeks to get to the bottom of this – and he would get to the bottom of this – and was more than willing to spend the necessary resources finding out who this other man was, if he even existed. Terry Silver was not threatened by competition, but he didn’t enjoy being out of the loop.

“Margaret, take a note,” he requests, exhaling smoke from his cigar. The woman, poised to help as ever, clicks her pen.

“Get a group of PIs together. I want them watching Y/N L/N from tomorrow until the gala. Look for any men she speaks to for more than a cup of coffee and get me background checks on them.”

“Yes, Mr. Silver,” she replies, keeping judgement out of her tone as always. That was the main difference between Margaret and you, he realized; well, apart from Margaret practically being a surrogate aunt to him. You were both excellent employees, but while she easily removed her own opinions and feelings on his business dealings from her work, you were a firecracker, barely able to keep yourself from blowing up at him at every opportunity. He did so want to push you over the edge, in every way he could…

Terry takes another drag of his cigar, satisfied. A lover didn’t present a threat to him; he’d just find out what it would take to get rid of him – money, blackmail, a good, old-fashioned beatdown. You’d be his by the end of the gala.

He’d make sure of it.

---

A week has passed since he put the order out, and so far nothing had come of it. You had barely left your house other than to work, and he’d had people stationed outside your home 24/7. No one had come or gone beyond the odd deliveryman. You hadn’t been seen out in public with any men beyond the odd family member, either. He was now convinced that the man in question didn’t exist, and finds himself surprised at your tactics. He figured that if you had thought making up a boyfriend would be enough to deter him – it wouldn’t – that you would have done so by now, and you hadn’t.

Surely you knew him better than that by now, didn’t you? He’d be disappointed otherwise.

There are a few days left before the gala, and he uses them to poke the bear further, seeing if he can get you to admit that there is no mystery man in your life.

On Wednesday afternoon, he shows up himself at your office door, not even trying to be subtle about pursuing you anymore. Everyone else knew to get out of his way and leave him to his antics. Boss’s orders.

“Y/N, sorry to drop this on you last minute, but I need this taken care of by the end of the day, alright?” he says in his best innocent voice, dropping a stack of file folders on your desk. You don’t look up at him or respond right away, but he sees your grip on your pen tighten, and smirks.

You look up at him after a long moment, your face a neutral mask. “Yes, Mr. Silver,” you reply, not giving him anything. Breaking you was going to be so much fun…

“I hope that staying late doesn’t interfere with a hot date with your man or anything,” he adds, unable to resist pushing you on the subject.

“No, not tonight,” you reply absently, looking through the stack of papers he’d tossed your way. He decides to drop the matter there, and turns to leave.

“We’re looking forward to blowing off some steam the night of the gala,” you call out when his back is turned, your voice deliberately husky, and his back stiffens. You were such a fucking tease…

He leaves your office without another word, immediately making plans to go to the dojo and blow off some steam of his own.

--- Reader’s POV ---

You finally get your hair just perfect, managing to look both elegant and sexy as it cascades down your shoulders. You’d been at it for what felt like forever, but you were finally ready: hair half up and curled, smoky makeup, a pair of pumps, and a deep red dress that made you feel like sin personified.

You had had a great time messing with Terry over the past couple of weeks, really laying it on thick the closer to the event you got. His visible frustration at your insistence that you had a boyfriend had been amusing, and there had been a couple of times where you were briefly worried you had pushed him a bit too far with your teasing. Hopefully after tonight, he would get the message and leave you be. You were almost regretting it; giving the man a taste of his own medicine had made work downright enjoyable.

There’s a knock at the door, and you head over to greet your “date” for the evening. You open the door, revealing your friend Mark, looking dashing as always as he leans against the doorframe, a small bouquet of roses in hand. You take him in with your eyes: tanned skin, short curly hair, deep brown eyes, in a perfectly fitted black suit with a shirt that matched your dress, the first few buttons undone.

“Well hellooo, gorgeous,” he purrs, and you roll your eyes at him, tugging him into a hug and laying a kiss on his cheek.

“We’re not there yet, Mark, you don’t need to start with that yet,” you laugh, pulling him inside.

“I figured I’d practice now, make it more convincing,” he jokes, grinning at you like a loon. You and Mark had met in college, in an elective theatre class, and had bonded right away over your love of wine and beautiful men, and had been friends ever since. He had spent many nights passed out on your couch, and you were happy to finally call in one of the (many) favours he owed you by having him play your boyfriend for the evening.

“Thank you again for doing this,” you tell him earnestly. You knew he would play the part perfectly, and he had been on board from your first phone call to him when the gala had first been announced.

“Are you kidding? Acting out gay cliches is what I live for!” he quips. “But really, run me through this again; I don’t want to fuck up.”

You rattle off the plan again: he would wait at a distance for Terry to approach you when you were alone – you had no doubt that he would – and then swoop in, all good looks and dazzling charm, acting like you were the perfect couple for the evening, doing your best to assure your boss that pursuing you was a pointless endeavour.

“Just keep your wits about you, alright? This guy is a sneaky bastard, and ridiculously persistent.”

“Oh, to be pursued endlessly by a wealthy man,” Mark laments, and you snort at him. “What’s this guy look like? How will I know who I'm looking for?”

“Tall, ponytail, annoying; you won’t be able to miss him,” you rattle off. “Oh, I know!”

Walking over to the coffee table, you pick up the most recent copy of Time magazine, flipping through it to the article on Dynatox. “Here, this is him,” you offer the magazine to Mark, pointing to the glossy photographs of the man in question. He whistles lowly.

“Damn, he’s fit. Why are you rejecting him again?” he asks, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t care if he’s Eros in the flesh,” you snap. “He’s pretentious, he’s annoying, and he thinks he’s entitled to anyone he bats an eye at.” Mark puts his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright! Sorry I asked. You ready to go?” You nod at him, making for the door, but he doesn’t follow. You look over your shoulder to see him staring at the magazine on the table, his lips quirked.

“What?” you demand, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You sure found that page fast,” he comments, tapping the magazine with a finger. “Flip to it a lot?” he asks innocently.

“Shut up, Mark.”

“Uh-huh. So, do you think your boss may be hitting on you because he’s compensating for something? Closeted homosexuality, perhaps?” he asks in a hopeful tone. You can’t help but laugh at this, pushing him out the door towards the cab.

---

The massive main lobby of Dynatox’s building had been done up to the nines for the event, looking even more opulent than usual, and you find yourself taking in the view as you enter on Mark’s arm, despite walking through this very room nearly every day for years now.

Mark helps you out of your coat, ever the gentleman, folding it over his arm to go to the coat check. He leans in to whisper in your ear, making sure to look particularly intimate as he does so. Mark did nothing halfway – much like another handsome man in your life…

“I’ll go check this and then find somewhere to wait in the wings. Go look gorgeous and knock him dead, love!” He kisses your cheek with a smile, disappearing into the growing crowd, and you can’t help but blush, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

You find a large, marble pillar to lean up against with a glass of wine, surveying the crowd and trying to appear natural. Sure enough, it doesn’t take long before you are approached by the man himself.

“Good evening, Y/N. So wonderful to see you,” croons a voice from behind you, and you suppress a shiver, turning to look up at Terry, dressed in a stunning tuxedo. You pointedly keep your eyes on his face.

“Hello, Mr. Silver. Happy to be here,” you reply sweetly, peering up at him over the rim of your wine glass.

“And where is this man I’ve heard so much about?” he asks with obvious fake interest. You resist the urge to smirk. This was going perfectly.

“Oh, just checking my coat,” you say dismissively, waving your hand in the vague direction Mark had left in. “And what about you? Do you have a date for this evening?”

“Oh yes, my woman is here,” he doesn’t miss a beat, his eyes locked with yours. You feel your face heat at his implication.

“Oh, wonderful! Make sure that you introduce me at so–”

Your remark is cut off as an arm wraps around you, a body pressing up against you from behind.

“Boo,” Mark says lowly in your ear, and you giggle, letting him pull you to his side with an arm firmly around your waist. You press your body into his, kissing his cheek, pleased to see Terry looking appropriately flabbergasted at the appearance of your, ahem, lover.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, darling,” Mark purrs, loudly enough to make sure that Terry hears.

“Sorry, honey! I got caught up talking to my boss,” you reply, making sure to emphasize his role. “Mark, this is Terry Silver. Mr. Silver, this is my boyfriend Mark,” you introduce the two, watching them exchange what looks to be a needlessly firm handshake. Fortunately, Mark holds his own. You could kiss him for how well he was playing this, giving Terry a look as though he was sizing him up as competition.

“Lovely to meet you, Mr. Silver,” he grins at the man, making it clear he doesn’t perceive him as a threat. “I hope you don’t mind, but I need to steal my woman away for a dance!”

He takes your empty wine glass and reaches past Terry to place it on a table, pulling you away from him and over to the dance floor without another word to the man. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he rests his forehead on yours as you sway to the music.

“You are a wonderful, devious man,” you praise him quietly, smiling brilliantly and he beams at you, twirling you around before pulling you back into his arms.

“If only my “tall, dark, and handsomeness” could help me win over my own “taller, darker, and handsomer” man,” he replies wistfully, and you see him glancing over your shoulder, presumably at Terry. You grin up at him.

“We’ll make that our next project, darling,” you promise, laughing at your use of the pet name. “Seriously though, thank you. I could kiss you for how well you played that back there.”

Mark sighs dramatically. “For the cause,” he murmurs in a self-sacrificing tone, leaning down to kiss you gently, holding you closer.

Neither of you feel the wave of absolute rage that radiates out of Terry Silver’s rigid form.

--- Terry’s POV ---

The elevator doors open to the deserted top floor of Dynatox Industries, Terry stepping out and stalking to his office at the far end of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

How the fuck had this happened?

He’d had you tailed for days, and not once had that prick shown his fucking face anywhere near you. None of his sources inside the building had ever heard you mention a Mark. Where the fuck had he come from?

The fax machine in the corner starts making noise, and he moves over to it, seeing that the PIs had sent over photographs of this guy picking you up for tonight. Oh, now they find him. Terry flips through the black and white shots of you embracing the man, laughing with him, kissing his cheek.

He’s torn the pictures to shreds before he even thinks about doing it, seeing red.

How long had you been together? Had he fucked you yet? You were meant to be his.

He walks over to the globe in the corner, spinning it to open the bar hidden inside, and quickly pours himself a shot of whiskey, then another. He had to calm down.

He had planned for this, for the event that your lover ended up being real, after all. Get the man alone, find out what made him tick, and send him on his way, leaving you in his far more capable hands. He would have you tonight, of that he was certain.

The alcohol settling his nerves, and restoring his confidence, Terry returns to the party, determined to put his plan in action.

Sticking to the sidelines or pretending to listen to the inane chatter other employees came to bother him with, his eyes are always on the two of you. Every touch between you, every laugh Mark draws out of you, he tallies them all up in his head, determined to make you pay for them at some point. Finally, you part ways from your little paramour, heading for the Ladies’ Room, while your partner makes his way to the bar.

Terry closes in on the man, waiting for him to retrieve his drink before all but backing him into a corner, using every bit of his size to appear effortlessly intimidating. Mark gives him a look up and down, and his lips quirk, but he appears unfazed.

“So where did you and Y/N meet?” Terry asks, as though they’d been in the middle of a conversation this whole time.

“College.”

“Which college was that again?”

“UC Berkeley.” Damn, he was telling the truth about that; he’d looked over your CV again recently, nearly having it memorized at this point. He’d find something, some slip up he can use against the man to get him out of here…

“And how long have you been together?”

“Almost a year now; we got together on Valentine’s Day; horribly sappy, I know,” the man jokes, and a flash of you, naked on a bed covered in rose petals flashes in Terry’s mind. He gnashes his teeth.

“She’s really something,” he continues, having clearly had quite a bit to drink. “Completely insatiable – I’ve been over at her place every night this week!”

Terry is about to reach over and break the man’s neck with his bare hands, when something suddenly clicks in his head.

No man had visited you any night this week; he’d made sure of it.

This man was lying, and he had no reason to lie to Terry unless you had put him up to it. You weren’t dating this man at all, he realizes. You crafty little minx…

Terry steps closer to the other man, suddenly all smiles.

“What will it take for you to admit that this is all a ruse, huh?”

The man valiantly tries to keep up the act for a moment, but eventually breaks eye contact with Terry, laughing quietly.

“What gave us away?”

“Don’t worry about that, just know that I know.”

The man snorts, polishing off his drink. “God, you’re as cocky and proud as Y/N. Don’t know why you both don’t just cut the bullshit already, since you’re apparently soooo smart.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Terry asks the man, impatient. Now that the charade was up, he seemed to have loose lips, the alcohol going right to his head. You would be furious if you found out he had betrayed you… Terry smirks at the thought.

“You both clearly want to fuck each other; I don’t know why you don’t just get to it.” Really now…

“What makes you say that?” Terry asks, crossing his arms and staring the man down.

“Don’t worry about that, just know that I know,” Mark repeats mockingly, parroting Terry’s words back at him.

“Fine,” Terry snaps, sensing he won’t get much more of substance out of the man. “What will it take for you to drop the act and leave her to me?” He’s all business once more, already reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. Mark waves a hand at him dismissively.

“Don’t worry about that; I’ve got my eye on something over at the bar,” he purrs, looking over to the bartender with lust in his eyes. Well, that settled that then.

Now to find a way to get you alone…

Terry approaches one of his favourite gossip-mongers, reaching for his wallet once more.

--- Reader’s POV ---

“Y/N, there you are!” A voice cuts through the crowd as you re-enter the lobby, scanning the room for Mark. You’d caught Terry staring at the pair of you several times throughout the night, but he had finally seemed to leave off. Probably off tending to his bruised ego, you think to yourself, brushing away the slight pang of guilt. You wanted to find Mark and get out of here, having fulfilled your mission for the night.

The woman who had called your name approaches you – Alice, you think her name was. She was a newer employee, and apparently a notorious gossip, so you had avoided her the best you could.

“Yes?” you ask, still craning your neck to look for your date.

“Could you do me the hugest favour? I accidentally put a file on your desk that was meant for Marissa, and she’ll kill me if it isn’t on her desk first thing Monday morning. Would you mind moving it for me?” she begs. You groan internally, but know that not doing this for her could have you branded as the “Office Bitch,” and you really didn’t need any more drama at work. Giving her a fake smile, you reassure her you’ll get right to it, and make for the elevator. The sooner you did this, the sooner you could go home.

The elevator doors open on your floor and you make for your office, noting with brief annoyance that the cleaning staff have closed the blinds despite your repeated requests to leave them open. Finding your keys, you unlock your door, flicking the light on and making your way to your desk with a sigh. You look over everything, but nothing is on it that you hadn’t put there yourself.

Where the hell was this file?

The door to your office closes loudly behind you, and you turn to see Terry Silver leaning against it casually, but his eyes are blazing. Your heart rate takes off immediately, and you gasp, your hand going to your throat.

“Looking for something?” he asks, and you start to feel very claustrophobic, very quickly.

“Yes, Alice came and asked me to look for something in here,” you explain slightly breathlessly, cursing the woman in your head with everything you had. “But I can’t find it, so I think Mark and I will just head home.”

“Is that so?” he questions, an amused tone to his voice that you don’t like.

“Yes, so if you’ll excuse me…” you trail off pointedly.

He doesn’t move away from the door.

“Mark was trying to convince the bartender to go home with him when I left him,” Terry informs you, and your blood feels like it freezes in your veins. He knew you had played him.

You open your mouth to make an excuse, a snarky comment, to say anything, but nothing comes out. Terry is staring at you with a smirk, the air around the two of you thick with tension.

“I think you’ve done enough toying with me, don’t you?” he asks innocently, slowly stepping towards you. “It’s my turn.”

You manage to convince your feet to back away from him, moving to keep your desk between you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, trying to keep your voice and your body from shaking.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Terry mocks, coming up to the desk and laying his palms on it, leaning across it towards you. Your eyes follow his hands, and looking just past them, you see he’s rock hard. You bite back a whimper of desire.

“Don’t even think about it, Terry Silver.” You’re relatively pleased with the way you growl out the threat, but he doesn’t seem fazed. He straightens up slowly, giving you a wide smile, and without moving his eyes from yours sweeps everything off your desk to the ground with one fluid motion of his arm.

“Get on the desk,” he requests in a calm, quiet voice, as though he was asking you to hand him a piece of mail. A jolt of pleasure moves from the butterflies in your stomach down to your clit. You scowl at him, refusing to give in.

“Bite me, you arrogant, entitled asshole,” you snarl at him, and he smiles at you patronizingly, but his eyes harden.

“Get on the desk or I will throw you on the desk,” he warns, and your knees nearly buckle at the dominant tone in his voice. You force yourself to walk a wide berth around him and your desk, suddenly hating your favourite pair of pumps as you make your way for the door.

“Even if I did want you,” you hiss back at him, though you both know that you do, “I’m not just going to let you treat me like some obedient little puppet that you can just –”

He reaches out and snatches your arm in his large hand, yanking you between him and the desk. Bending you back against it, he tangles a hand in your hair, keeping you at an awkward angle you couldn’t squirm out of and attacking your lips in a punishing kiss.

You let out a growl of indignation against his lips, reaching up to roughly grab his ponytail, trying to pull him off you, kissing him back fiercely all the while. When that fails to get a reaction out of him you try to shove him off you, your hands pushing on his broad shoulders with all your might until he seems to get annoyed, moving his hands out of your hair and away from your waist to snatch up your wrists, bending you fully to lay back against the desk and pinning your hands above your head with ease.

You snarl, and he nips your lower lip, running his tongue along yours in a way that has you moaning, your toes curling. He doesn’t let up until you’re both dizzy from lack of oxygen, pulling you upright into his arms before breaking the kiss. You both pant heavily, tasting each other in the air as you catch your breath.

“Get on the desk, little hellcat,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with lust.

“Go fuck yourself,” you snap back at him, and he gives you a wicked smile.

“Fine, we’ll do this the fun way,” he replies, seemingly unperturbed by the insult. He flips you over and bends you over the desk before you can say or do anything else, grinding against you through your clothes with a hand in your hair, pinning you down again. You fight back a moan as you buck your hips back against him, your eyes rolling back into your head at the feel of him. The way this man set your whole body on fire…

You feel his hand leave your hair and stay put, focusing on using your grip on the edge of the desk to give you leverage to grind against him at a better angle. He lets out a growl of approval, his hands moving down to your thighs, lifting your tight skirt over your hips, kneading your ass in a way that has you crying out for him. You can feel him smirking at your response, the arrogant bastard…

He slides his hands from your ass up the sides of your body, pulling you up against him, kneading your breasts roughly over your dress.

“What was that, hmm?” he asks patronizingly, nibbling your ear. “What was that noise I just heard from you?”

“I hate you,” you growl out, pressing your ass against his hard cock through his pants, desperate for friction, for him… and you’d bite your tongue clean off before you asked for it.

“I can’t believe you ever managed to pull a fast one on me; you’re a terrible liar,” he purrs against your skin, running his lips along your shoulder, his hands tugging your dress down and baring your breasts. You squirm in his clutches as his fingers move to your nipples, switching between feather-light teasing and pinching in a way that has you clutching the edge of your desk, your nails digging into the wood. You would not make another sound.

“Last chance. All you have to do is hop up on your desk like a good girl and I’ll give you exactly what you want, Y/N,” he tells you teasingly. Your hands go to your chest, trying to slap his hands away from you, and he’s got you bent back over your desk in an instant, your now-tender nipples pressed against the wood hard enough to sting.

“Alright, you’ll beg for it, then,” he says, completely unbothered by your resistance, nudging your legs apart with his knee. Your thighs tremble in anticipation.

“Never,” you growl, one cheek pressed against the wood. Your panties are tugged down your legs, and then his fingers are at your entrance, teasing you, coating two of his fingers in your juices before reaching just above and stroking your clit masterfully.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” Terry groans in your ear, and you debate banging your head into the desk to distract yourself from the overwhelming lust that’s clouding your every thought. It would probably just make matters worse at this point.

“Were you this wet when you were thinking up your little plans for tonight, you fucking cocktease?” he continues, pumping two fingers into your pussy as he moves his thumb to your clit, unrelenting. You’re close already, and you’re furious about it, biting your lip until it bleeds in your desperation to keep quiet.

“Didn’t work out the way you thought it would, did it Y/N?” he taunts, curling his fingers inside you. You slam your hand over your mouth to muffle your screams as you come around his fingers. He snatches your wrist, pulling your hand away and catching the tail end of your moans. He observes the drops of crimson on your fingers with a calculated expression, pulling you upright and turning you to face him.

“Stubborn hellcat,” he murmurs fondly, holding your chin in his iron grip so that he can survey the damage you’ve done to your lip. Leaning forward, he sucks your lower lip into your mouth, lapping the blood with his tongue, and a violent shudder goes through you as you see him lick your blood off of his lips.

“Still not going to give in, huh?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he takes in your murderous expression. “You’re going to at some point tonight, doll. I’m going to have you begging for my cock, and then I’m going to fuck that tight little hole until you can’t walk straight.”

“Terry!” you cry out, half in need and half in shock at his filthy language. He actually shudders, his eyes rolling back in his head briefly.

“Fuck, you sound so good when you’re screaming my name,” he growls, reaching for his belt. “I’m going to hear it a lot tonight.”

“Like hell you… will…” You start out angrily, but as he pulls his cock out, you find your mouth going dry, your train of thought completely evaporating from your mind. The smug grin he levels you with has you feeling both defeated and desperate to have him. You lick your lips, and a noise of approval emanates from somewhere deep in his chest, catching the depraved motion as you stare lustfully at his cock, your dress bunched up around your waist.

“Ask me to fuck you, Y/N,” he commands, and you cling to your last shred of resolve, stubbornly not replying.

“I suppose I could just come all over this pretty dress,” he says as if truly contemplating the idea, pumping his hand up and down his shaft. Why did he have to rile you up all the time?

“It just seems like such a waste when I should be coming inside your tight little cunt, pumping you full of m–”

“FINE!” you shriek, glaring daggers at him, hopping up on your desk. “I want you, Terry Silver! I want you to fuck me hard with that hard cock on my desk like I’m the office slut! Just shut the fuck up and do it already!”

He flashes a wicked grin at you, and between one blink and the next is perfectly positioned between your thighs, his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Was that so hard?” he asks innocently, and you let out a cry of frustration, trying to pull his hips closer to yours.

“Oh, now you’re stalling? Do you even know what you’re doing, you stupi–”

He thrusts into you in one motion, your insult dying in your throat and being replaced by a wanton moan as he sets a brutal pace.

“Damn defiant little tease,” he growls, his hips pumping hard and deep as he stares down at your body, tits bouncing for him from the force of his thrusts. “You thought you could get away from me, huh? After mouthing off at me in your tight little skirts for months, acting like you didn’t want me to take you like you deserve?”

“YEEESSS!” you wail, clinging to the desk for dear life as he pounds into you, giving you the hardest, roughest fucking of your life.

“You’re not gonna make that mistake again, are you, my little hellcat?” he demands, his fingernails digging into your hips as he pins you down against the desk. You would feel this tomorrow – probably for the next week – and you know that that’s his intention.

“No, Terry! Fuck!” you whine out desperately, creaming around his cock as you climax a second time. He shows no signs of slowing down, let alone stopping, merely lifting your legs up, throwing them over his shoulder and taking you even deeper.

“That’s right,” he growls, spanking you hard. “What are you going to do the next time I call you into my office, huh?” He spanks you again after you’re too incoherent to respond. “Tell me!” he commands you, reaching a hand down your body to wrap around your throat. You arch up against him desperately, clawing into his forearm, feeling like you were going to pass out from the overstimulation.

“Fuck, Terry, I don’t know! Bend over your desk, get on my knees, whatever you want, just please don’t stop!” you whine, digging your heels into his back.

“Good girl,” he purrs, leaning down to kiss you fiercely, adjusting his hips to take you at an angle that has his cock hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You come for him again with a cry of his name, your voice hoarse, and this time he comes with you, moaning your name in your ear as he fills you up, his upper body coming down on top of you. You both take a moment to catch your breath before he sits up, pulling you into a sitting position beside him. The contrast between how rough he had just been with the gentleness of the gesture has your body tingling.

Neither of you say anything for a long moment, looking at the ground. You spot streaks of red on one of his forearms.

“I clawed your arm up,” you comment, not able to keep the note of vindictive pleasure from your voice. He lifts his arm, examining the damage.

“So you did,” he replies absently.

“Maybe it’ll teach you not to fuck around with your employees,” you suggest cheekily, unable to resist. He gives you a look that has your knees going weak again, and you briefly worry he’s going to bend you over the desk again for another round.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” he replies brightly, slowly coming to stand in front of you. He grabs your chin in one hand. “You look good after I’ve ravaged you.”

“Bite me, Terry.”

“Let me get you home, first.”

---

You use the car-phone in Terry’s limo on the way to his place to leave a voicemail for your assistant, telling her you wouldn’t be in that coming week.

“See? Isn’t cooperating so much better?” he asks condescendingly once you’ve hung up the receiver, patting your hair affectionately. You glower at him, slapping his hand away.

“Do you think you could go even ten minutes without being a pretentious asshole?” you ask, crossing your arms in a huff. “I don’t need to spend any of my time off with you.”

“Oh Y/N,” he croons, tugging you into his lap despite your mild protestations. “I have no intention of letting you be anywhere else.”

---

…I got carried away.

#terry silver #thomas ian griffith #terry silver x reader #smut #the karate kid 3 #sensei targaryen #karate kid #kk3 #inappropriate office relationships