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prettyboykatsuki · 2 days

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✮ tags ; pwp, fem + afab!reader, dubcon (reader is drunk af), dirty talk, rough-ish sex, the liiiightest yan undertone. 18+

✮ a/n ; im not a kiri fucker but i . had a thought in the shower

Kirishima fucks like he has something to prove.

That part of him hasn't changed, you think. It's a bad time to be reminiscing about such a thing, especially since your brain can't think of anything other than how good it feels to have such a thick cock buried in your sore, weeping cunt.

Kirishima has stopped briefly, just to bottom out and press his navel to your sex - so your brain has a little space to think. You don't know exactly how you've ended up here after thinking about it for a long time. The alcohol is making your head feel fuzzy and your lower half is weak, might melt into Kirishima's nice king size bed if you're not careful.

An hour ago, you had come off of work and joined some friends in an izakaya. Kirishima was there too, seemingly with his own friends. You hadn't seen him since middle school, when he shorter and more negative. You had a crush on him then, back before all the hero stuff.

It was refreshing to see a boy your age obsesses over something like being a perfectly chivalrous man. You were friend though not closely, and had a dopey school girl love affair that never came of fruition. You didn't speak to him after that, weren't close enough to ask - and watched him grow into a hero through televised events and news.

He's a pro now. He was much bigger than you thought he'd be. You didn't think men could get that big, unless they played basketball or something. He was shorter than you in middle school but when you saw him again in person, he was double your height. You had to crane your neck up just to get a good look at his face. Defined jaw and rugged, boyish charm that made your cheeks warm like you hadn't grown out of being a girl.

You thought he wouldn't recognize you since he's basically famous now, but he did. Flagged you down and whisked you away for drinks and catch up time. Your friends pushed you to go, so you did. You drank and spoke about nothing in particular and Kirishima seemed so enraptured with you - you thought the alcohol had fried your brain. Thoroughly tipsy and giggly, you admitted to having a crush on him in long and unnecessary detail. That you liked him, and seem to still if this feeling is anything to go by.

You hadn't expected anything of it. But he kissed you in the corner of the bar and asked if you had anywhere to be, hauled you into a taxi when you said no and made out with you on the way home. Put his hand underneath you shirt and squeezed your waist, said something about how cute you are. Always have been.

No one seemed to think anything of it when you left. Pro-Hero's escort drunk girls all the time, but you wonder if it's normal to fuck them? You wonder if Kirishima has practice in bring home drunk girls who are too big for their boots and too needy to be anything but sincere.

He's so good at fucking you, you aren't sure you'd mind that being true. Not like this.

He didn't give you any time to adjust to what was going on, every breath had him chasing more of you like he'd run out of time if he didn't rush. He carried you inside, licked your pussy while you laid against his kitchen counter and finger fucked you until you could take all eight inches of him. Was he always this relentless? You know he was never kind, no matter how much he seems it. He was always critical and cunning, but you didn't expect him to be so ruthless.

He doesn't let you off of his cock after he gets you on it. Makes you wrap your arms around his shoulders even though you barely can because he's so big. Makes you wrap your legs around his waist and tells you to hold tight as he walks you up the stairs with his cock still twitching. The whole thing makes your eyelids burn with pleasure, your body yearning to keep him inside of you for as long as you can stay conscious which is barely when you're this wasted.

He dropped you in his bed and fucked you in missionary. You think in the span of a few hours, you've spent more of it feeling his cock throb inside of you longer than you've spent without. He's too big, and fucks mean. There's no chivalry in it, just pure primal desire behind weight and heavy thrusts that make you gasp involuntarily.

You haven't stopped cumming. You've never done that so much in a row. Your body feels nearly numb as you think on it. He's been keep you like this for so long and the alcohol is making you lightheaded. You can barely understand what he's saying except that he's loved you for so long. You wonder if that's true. Your pussy likes it though, clenches every time he groans into your neck after the headboard hits the wall with his thrusts.

He fucks you like he wants to prove something to you. You don't know what exactly. You're drunk and floaty and you can't stop cumming and you can't think of anything other than how much you want him to fuck your brains out. How much you want him to cum, so deep in your pussy you'd have to push it out to get rid of it. How much you want to cum around his cock until you get so fuckdrunk you pass out on it.

A little pleasant catching up and now you can't unfurl your spine from the way it's raised, and your toes hurt from how tight they've curled. You feel ditzy with it. Didn't know cock could make you cum so much you turn stupid and babbling. It's all you've been doing and Kirishima doesn't seem to mind it all. Just laughs at your nonsense words and kisses you with sharp teeth and fucks you.

And fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, with your knees to your ears and your eyes blurry and hazed.

"Kirisihima-kun," You gasp at him, breathless and hot.

"Eijirou," He corrects with a nip to your mouth. "We won't leave each other now. Not anymore."

He punctuates with the promise with a thrust so deep you can't do anything but agree. You wonder if all this is trying to prove his love for you, but how you could that be true? It's been years.

Another thrust makes your lower belly clench, and something squirts out of you mid thrust. You're too hazy to feel self-conscious of it and Kirishima only laughs.

You close your eyes and let him have you. Again and again and again.

#kirishima smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #writing tag #dubcon cw #aha nooo kirishima dont take advantage of me while im drunk and out of it haha nooo #<- SORRY LAMSDOFJKD

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coloursflyaway · 2 days

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Won’t Fear Love (6/6)

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.900

Read on AO3

„We should go a date“, Charles says on a perfectly bland Tuesday, looking up at Edwin from whatever he is doing at the moment.

If Edwin wasn’t dead already, he would suspect that Charles is trying to kill him.

or:

Five times Charles takes Edwin on a date to figure out if he could fall in love with him, and one time when he has an answer.

tagging all the lovely people who wanted to give this fic a read: @itsablueberrycow @piristephes @assignedpeanutallergyatbirth @mylu @oneweirdbean @lifeinvirtualreality

It’s the second Wednesday of the month again, for the eighth time since they have started this experiment, if Edwin’s tally is correct. Which, of course, it is.

The last two weeks have been filled with a new case, one that is turning out to be much harder than expected, and so Charles and he are sprawled on the sofa, books in their hands, while Crystal is out to find someone whose mind might provide them with some kind of insight. So far, Charles has not declared any plans for the night, but then again, he seems to enjoy surprising Edwin, seems to enjoy keeping him in the dark for as long as possible.

Just the month before, he had taken Edwin to a botanical garden so they could enjoy the mild weather, the flowers and the gentle quiet there; they had been holding hands, Charles had woven a crown from daisies and dandelions for him and later kissed Edwin beneath a vine-covered arch, another time just before they had left the gardens to walk back to the agency.

Now, he is laying on the sofa with his head in Edwin’s lap, which makes Edwin’s own reading slightly more difficult as there is nowhere to rest his book but on Charles’ forehead (which he had tried, but Charles did not appreciate) but is also more than worth it. It’s nice to be this close, to weave his fingers into the curls of Charles’ hair and make him hum happily, to look down from time to time and watch Charles’ eyelashes flutter, his forehead furrow in concentration.

It’s domestic in a way that is painfully familiar and delightfully new at the same time.

“Hey, Edwin”, Charles says eventually, and when Edwin looks down, Charles is already watching him, the book set aside and resting on his chest. “I know it’s Wednesday and I do have a little something planned, but would you mind if we just spent this one at home?”

His eyes are wide and soft and dark, and Edwin knows he could say no, and ask to go anyway and Charles would take him to… well, wherever he was planning on going. Not that Edwin ever would, not when Charles is not feeling like going on a date. Especially, since the reason for these dates is for Charles to find out if he wants this.

Edwin is about to smile, tell him that of course, they can stay in, but then there’s a flash, a thought so bright and sudden wrecking through his brain that it stops Edwin dead in his tracks. Because that was the deal they had, wasn’t it? That they would go on dates and Charles would figure out if Edwin could be someone he’d want as more as a friend.

And if Charles doesn’t want to take him on a date tonight, then…

Suddenly, Edwin feels his metaphorical heart speed up; if he still had a breath, it would be shaky, coming in gasps, because his whole existence zeroes in on this, on Charles looking up at him, on Charles asking to stay at the agency tonight.

He puts down his book, sits up straighter, and the change in posture must have been noticeable because Charles quirks an eyebrow, even if he doesn’t move; Edwin isn’t sure if he is grateful for it or wishes it was different.

“Charles”, he starts, unsure how to phrase it when part of him wants to abandon rhyme and reason and beg Charles not to break his heart. “Please correct me if I am misunderstanding the situation, but are you trying to say that you are ready to make a decision regarding… us?”

He puts it as delicately as he possibly can, tries to keep any kind of hope, of desperation, of bone-chilling, all-encompassing fear from seeping into his voice, but he isn’t sure how, or even if he succeeds. Especially since Charles doesn’t react at all at first, then scrunches up his nose, forehead furrowing. “What?”

Since there is no universe in which Charles would ever treat him unkindly on purpose, or make this harder than necessary, the confusion must be genuine, which makes it easier, makes it harder still. And, a treacherous part of Edwin’s mind whispers, what does it say about their situation that Charles seems to have forgotten about it entirely?

“Us, Charles”, Edwin repeats after a moment and even to himself, his voice sounds off, too composed to be anything but a facade. And it is, because Edwin isn’t even certain how he is formulating words, sentences, when every spectral molecule of his body seems to be frozen in hope, in terror. “When we started this… experiment of a sort, it was very clear that we would go on dates so you would be able to make a decision about our romantic future, or lack thereof. So, since you are proposing that we do not go on a date tonight, I was wondering if you were indicating that you were ready to make said decision.”

It sounds stilted, it sounds forced, but Edwin cannot make himself stop talking until he is finished, because if there is a chance that this is what Charles has planned, then he has to get it over with as quickly as possible, no matter the consequences.

His hands are shaking and Charles must see it, so Edwin folds them and presses them against his chest, while he watches Charles sit up slowly, eyebrows still drawn together like he is trying to find the last piece for a puzzle he wasn’t expecting to solve.

He’s beautiful in a way that makes Edwin wish he had a heart that could beat for him, a breath that Charles could take away; he’s anything Edwin could ever want and although ever since they started this, Edwin has been doing his best to keep his hopes in check, he suddenly realises with startling clarity that he has colossally failed in that regard. There is still nothing that could ever keep him out of Charles’ life, but it would take decades to piece his heart back together, should Charles decide he would prefer them to be friends.

Because he had a taste of it now, of holding Charles’s hand when they are walking through the city, of cuddling close to him at night and kissing him in the morning, when the early sunlight is making his skin glow golden. And even if for Charles this was a trial run that was found lacking, it had never felt like that for Edwin.

“Just so I can get this straight”, Charles starts very slowly, like he isn’t certain what to say, or how to say it, “Are you under the impression that I haven’t made that decision yet?”

He sounds like he cannot believe he is saying it, and Edwin cannot do anything but nod helplessly, the weight of the rest of his existence making it impossible to speak.

It takes a moment, but then Charles laughs, incredulous and yet sweet, and even if it doesn’t clear up anything, it washes away at least some of the tension. Because Charles wouldn’t laugh at him, not before breaking his heart.

“Edwin, we’ve been cuddling until a few moments ago”, Charles tells him and his voice is so gentle, so fond that Edwin wants to sway closer, wants to spend the rest of time surrounded by its timbre. “We’ve been holding hands for months now. I kissed you this morning when we were watching the sunrise. Twice.”

He smiles at the last part, like it is a memory worth reliving and that is enough to stun Edwin into talking, to kickstart the heart he doesn’t have into beating once more. “I thought you were trying it out. To see if you liked it”, he explains, and slowly, ever so slowly, hope is spreading through his body, pumped through astral veins from his chest to the tips of his fingers, the soles of his feet.

“For the first twenty minutes of it, maybe. Not for several months”, Charles replies and he is smiling, the curve of his lips seeping into every word. “Crystal even introduced you as my boyfriend last week.”

“I thought she was teasing me!”, Edwin shoots back, but there is no heat to his words, there couldn’t be, when Charles is looking at him like he doesn’t want to look away again.

The words startle a laugh out of Charles, who then reaches out to pull Edwin’s hands from where they have been resting against his chest, holds them tightly between his own. And suddenly Edwin’s skin feels like its thawing, like Charles’ touch is breathing air back into his lungs, is making bringing his heart back to life.

“Edwin, listen to me”, he says and there is nothing Edwin would rather do. “I made my decision months ago. I thought you knew.”

Months ago, he says, and Edwin thinks about snuggling up to Charles when they were both doing research in long, dark nights, about tangling their fingers together between their bodies while following Crystal down one of London’s long, winding streets, about Charles kissing him last night, crowding him against the door and only stopping when Edwin’s head was spinning.

It feels impossible, it feels real at the same time, and Charles is watching him with such tenderness that Edwin cannot even ask if he means it. Because Charles would never lie to him, not about something like this.

“Can you just say it?”, he asks instead, sounding breathless and overwhelmed and happy even to his own ears. “So I can believe it. Just once.”

Charles’ fingers tighten around his, and maybe that is an answer in itself, but then Charles says, “I’ll say it as often as you want to hear it.”

And he leans in, close enough that Edwin almost closes the distance and kisses him instead, stops himself just because he knows he needs to hear it, that he will have time to kiss Charles later.

“You, Edwin Payne”, Charles starts, and raises their joined hands to press his lips to Edwin’s knuckles, “are the love of my life in every possible way. And there is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my existence at your side.”

He smiles and his eyes are so full of love, of affection, that Edwin feels like he is drowning in it, unable, unwilling to resurface. There are tears stinging in his eyes, but Edwin blinks them away, because he needs to see, needs to commit Charles’ face to memory like it is right now, his curls mussed from Edwin’s fingers, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the office.

“I love you, too”, he whispers into the sliver of space between them, hopes to fill it with everything else he wants to, will, say. “More than anything.”

Charles’ eyes light up as he leans in, makes them shine so brightly they’re almost blinding, and just before their lips brush, he whispers, “I know.” And kisses Edwin soft and sure and overwhelming, one hand letting go of Edwin’s so it can reach up and cradle his jaw instead, holding him steady, holding him close.

Edwin kisses back, and there is a moment where he thinks, please.

Only to realise, as Charles kisses his love onto his lips, that there is nothing more he could ask for.

#dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dbd #edwin payne #edwin paine #charles rowland #painland #payneland #paynland #chedwin #charles x edwin #edwin x charles #i'll really miss writing this fic #so much #my boys ♥♥♥

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tyitri · 1 day

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Entangled Heart - Chapter 2

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader

Summary: The world had gone to hell a few years ago. No one cared about preserving other beings, endangered species. The crown of creation was quickly deemed a threat, and the hunters became the hunted.The world changed, we were no longer at the top of the food chain. The plants were.

They passive-aggressively spread, allowing a new plant species, called the 'Verdantia aurea' or Goldleaf Fern, to thrive. No one knew it was an invasive species. Other regional plants died, throwing the world out of balance. Many still remember the initial reports.It felt like the Seven Plagues of the End Times, written as if in the Bible.

You're part of that fucked ecosystem now together with a few survivors who made an oath to save humanity or at least whats left of it. One of them in particular doesn't seem to like you, everyone calls him Ghost. And you're pretty sure it's not because of the report when you were found nude, nestled between a bush of Goldleaf Fern itself by some Scientists.

Tags: Post Apocalyptic,Slowburn, No use of Y/N, Nicknames, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Mild Gore, Violence.

Wordcount: 2,7k

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Your grip on the rifle tightened as you thought you saw things moving in the shadows of the houses. When you tried to alert Soap and nudged him gently, he started to chuckle.

"Chill out, Rookie. It's over. The thing is full for now, we won't have any more trouble. At least now we can check out the buildings. Its death wasn't entirely pointless."

Were you the only one who found this entire situation absurd? It was simply surreal—Soap's chuckling, Ghost's indifference, and Price's detachment.

"Who knows if it really hunts out of hunger," you mutter quietly, your gaze returning to the twitching movements in the darkness.

"Those are the roots of the main distributor," he explained. "Damn thing. No sign of the real one yet. We would have already turned it to ash." Soap must have followed your gaze because you couldn't take your eyes off the writhing, twisting roots.

"Main distributor?" Despite being trained by König in the US, who had given you a crash course on some techniques and updated your knowledge, you still had significant gaps.

"Damn, Gaz wasn't lying when he said the new recruit was from the moon," Soap said, touching his forehead and grinning. "Tell me at least you know that, absurdly, we’re fighting plants." His casual demeanor might have been a good distraction if someone from your team hadn't just become compost for this 'main distributor.'

"If I were from the moon, I definitely wouldn't have volunteered to be sent to this shithole," you mutter, loosening your grip on the rifle slightly. Your gaze flickers to Price and Ghost, who have moved a few meters away and seem to be quietly communicating. Soap stays by your side, likely to watch over you.

Soap grins at you and then starts to regain your attention. "Well, some scientists have discovered that there’s a main distributor that can spread more seeds and thus expand everywhere. So, everything you see here—by that, I mean plants that move—is just a single plant within a four-kilometer radius."

That makes you think. One single plant had so much power over such a large area. Humanity would really need to prepare to change its way of life. But when you looked at Ghost—and you did so rather obviously at that moment—you doubted that a new way of life would be for everyone. He had probably grown up with war and danger, but what did you know, and it shouldn't concern you.

"And it hasn't been found yet?" you respond thoughtfully. "How do we know that such a main distributor exists?"

Now he looks at you, puzzled, and you could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

"Well, some scientists said so," he replied hesitantly, "and these things don't attack us again after such a situation," he added confidently. You looked at him skeptically. "So, this has happened before?"

He cleared his throat for a moment, and it seemed you had touched on a somewhat uncomfortable point.

"Hey, Soap, Rookie, we're going through the alleys to secure everything!" Price called to you. They had already moved quite a distance away. Ghost also looked back at the two of you, staring at Soap for a while before looking at you, his expression darkening.

"Come on, Rookie," Soap said, and you nodded absently. You didn't understand why Ghost always looked at you with such cold contempt.

"What’s our Lieutenant's problem, anyway?" you asked Soap quietly, holding the masked man's gaze.

"Oh, Ghost? He's been through a lot."

That didn’t surprise you in the slightest. "Well, that much is clear," you replied, breaking eye contact as the whole group moved through the alley. You inspected the wall, noticing it was crumbling, with small vines creeping along the old graffiti and new life sprouting from it. As you reached out to touch the plants, Ghost growled a warning in front of you.

"If you do that, I'll shoot your hand off, I promise you."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him. You knew you were the new one among them and hoped Ghost would be a bit nicer to you soon, but life here wasn't a wish-fulfillment story. It never was.

"Thanks for the information, but I'll pass on that unnecessary crap. These are just normal plants. The vegetables on our roof don’t attack us either!"

"Unnecessary crap, huh? You could have died instead of the other rookie, for all I care. Looked like a normal plant to me too," he grumbled, his voice gravelly.

Price intervened and pointed cautiously to a side entrance, changing the subject. "Our lock has been broken," he said, calmer than expected, nudging the remnants of the lock aside with his boot. The chain, still trying to cling to the piece of scrap, jingled a little.

"And what's the problem with it being broken?" You inspected the lock, noticing the peeling paint on its remnants. Soap stepped in to explain. "We lock almost every building in our area after we’ve checked it. Depending on the color of the lock, we know whether it’s a building with supplies or one with potential dangers," he explained. So far, Soap was the most helpful person in this group. Ghost seemed to keep an eye on the surroundings, but he was more critical than helpful. Price didn’t contribute much to the conversations, but he led the group.

"What about buildings without doors?" After all, the building where the rookie disappeared had no markings. "We place something in front of the door that corresponds to the color. If we can’t find anything, we use spray paint. Buildings without markings should be avoided," he said with a grin, as if he had read your thoughts. Soap couldn’t explain further because Price pushed the heavy door open with his right shoulder and disappeared into the darkness. Ghost followed him. Soap patted you twice on the shoulder before nudging you toward the door, and you took a step into the darkness.

"Don't worry, we'll only find supplies here," Soap said behind you as you hesitantly put one foot in front of the other. Only a few beams of moonlight penetrated through the boarded-up windows, and you scanned the shelves. Canned food, hygiene products, cigarettes, and some sugary drinks caught your eye, but almost everything else was empty.

"Shit, those bastards made off with a whole crate of cans," Ghost cursed from the next room. "Clothes too," added Price as he returned to the main room with Soap and you. You took in the information, but the rest of their conversation blended with the sounds of the night. Something else had caught your attention. You had to adjust to the darkness, but you quickly noticed a similar-looking vine apparently trying to creep toward the windows. You had a bad feeling about it, but something in your body urged you to follow it. You followed the vine and disappeared behind some empty shelves. You opened the door to another room, which seemed to be a bathroom.

A dusty sink, a toilet, and a bathtub with the curtain drawn. As you glanced at the floor, you saw more than just the one vine from before. Several small ones slithered from the bathtub toward the door. As you took a step toward the bathtub, you noticed an open box with some cans and stacked clothes. Wasn't that the missing clothing?

Cautiously, you pulled the curtain aside and saw a person huddled inside, wrapped in the tangled mesh of this fern. Startled, you took a step back and stumbled over the root winding its way out of the bathroom. You braced yourself for the impact on the dusty tile floor, but it never came. Instead, you were caught by something—or someone—standing like a bouncer behind you. Ghost. Your fingertips dug into his tactical vest, and you looked up in panic at his cool eyes, the only part of him that seemed to show any humanity. He held your gaze for a few more seconds before the bathtub with the corpse wrapped in plant material and the box of cans caught his attention.

"Supplies found!" he called into the hall behind him, pushing you aside to lift the crate. He walked past you as if nothing had happened, leaving you a bit unsettled.

You wanted to ask what they were going to do with the person in the bathtub, but the question became unnecessary when he stopped at the door and gestured wordlessly for you to get out of the room.

You cast one last glance at the corpse before running out of the room, and he slammed the door shut behind you.

"Price, Soap! We need an empty shelf here, the weeds are already coming out of the drains!"

It didn’t take long for the other team members to push one of the shelves in front of the door to block it. You were surprised they didn't try using chlorine or other chemicals. You could still see cleaning supplies on the shelves.

"Everyone, fill your backpacks. You can take a little something extra, just don't overdo it," Price said, his gaze lingering on you. You nodded almost imperceptibly and carefully made your way through the aisles. When you glanced over your shoulder, you saw Soap filling his bag greedily, grinning. The others were taking their time. You started filling your bag with small packages of rice.

Just as you reached for the next bag on the shelf, your fingers brushed against a leaf. You thought it might be fern. But there was no time for panic. An electrifying sensation surged through your body in seconds. Memories flooded through you—memories you had never had before. Children laughing and playing on a playground while you sat on a bench. Fragments of a relationship with a young woman flashed in your mind, memories of working in a warehouse, and finally, a memory of yourself, huddled in a bathtub, as roots and vines slithered toward you. You felt the fear and panic of this person, for these weren't your memories; they belonged to the dead man in the bathroom.

"Fern!"

Someone called out to you from a distance; everything seemed so surreal. It was as if reality and fantasy were blurring together, as if the countless sleepless nights and days were now taking their revenge.

"Goddammit, Fern!"

A strong yank backward snapped you out of the thoughts, out of the illusion that made you feel like you were that man. At first, you didn’t realize how heavily you were breathing. Only when reality caught up did you feel your lungs burning, as if you had run a marathon.

"Goddammit, Rookie! Answer when someone calls you," Soap hissed. You still seemed dazed, glancing around a bit disoriented as your eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Your head felt like it was full of cotton, and Soap's words sounded muffled. "I was lost in thought," you admitted hesitantly. "Sorry." Carefully, you stuffed another bag of rice into your backpack. You noticed your hand trembling. Soap noticed it too, but he said nothing, instead grabbing your collar and dragging you toward the exit where the others were, while you quickly slung your backpack over your shoulder and stumbled after him.

"Found the girl," Soap replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "You okay? You look like you're about to be sick," Price said, his tone partly indifferent. Ghost just stared at you with his intense gaze. Even when you parted your dry lips, hardly any words came out.

"I'm fine," you tried to respond firmly, pulling yourself away from Soap.

"I thought König was sending us his best recruit, not a dead weight," Ghost hissed before turning and heading back outside. Your eyebrows knitted together. Soap just sighed and glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, Ghost isn't entirely wrong. Colonel König's training isn't exactly easy. Not sure how you managed it," he said casually, as if sprinkling salt into a freshly opened wound.

You pressed your lips together, nodded, and watched as Soap adjusted his pace to walk alongside Ghost. Now you stood next to Price, who also started moving slowly. Not wanting to be left behind in the store, you followed him and watched as he locked the door with a new lock and marked it with a colored dot.

"You seem a bit too clumsy, Rookie," Price said hesitantly as he started walking again, and you fell into step behind him.

"I haven't had much contact with plants, sir," you answered honestly and respectfully. The whole situation worried you a bit. Would they bench you or categorize you differently? You didn't know, and that uncertainty scared you. "But your file says otherwise, Fern," he replied with a certain emphasis, and your body tensed up. "I thought it was still in the US," you tried to lie or at least play dumb, considering how you had already acted today.

"Don't play dumb, Fern. I know where and under what circumstances you were found." Silence settled between the two of you before you both started moving again. You nodded quietly. "That's why König sent you to us so early. The base here might not stand for much longer. He said you could help us with that," Price admitted. You didn’t know what you could do. After all, you had no real idea what Price was talking about.

"I honestly don't know, sir," you replied firmly. Silence lingered between you. The topic was not closed, and the tension remained. Only the crunching of gravel scattered on the streets could be heard. Until Ghost stopped in front of you and raised his hand.

Before you stretched a building that creaked and crumbled. It almost looked as if one half would soon collapse inward, burying the street and the abandoned vehicles beneath it. A huge root seemed to be squeezing the building. If the situation were different, it would probably have been astonishing, if not a little aesthetic.

"We sneak through, over Checkpoint Charlie," Ghost said tersely as instruction, then made a hand gesture. The gesture would probably have sufficed for the other two, but you couldn't understand it. König didn't have enough time, or so he said to you. He taught you a lot, you learned quickly, and if you were being honest, you didn't know where it all came from. You barely did any sports, maybe just enough to stay fit, but still, you could anticipate, block, and even deliver blows. Even König was impressed that someone as small as you could withstand his blows and catch on so quickly.

Just as you snapped out of your trance, you saw Ghost crouching, darting across the street and staying covered. He pressed his back against the target, an overturned pickup truck. Now he looked at you, his ice-blue eyes focusing on you, and he made a head motion. That was the signal. You cast one last glance at the huge root winding around the building. Its movements had ceased, but that didn't stop you; on the contrary.

In a crouch, you sprinted across the street. Too late. The building was crushed by the root, and the debris and concrete walls fell onto the street, just as the root descended upon it. With a dive, you managed to find cover beside Ghost, behind the truck. However, the dust from the building, the shock of the fallen root, and the noise disoriented you. Ghost shouted something in your direction, but you could barely make it out until he brutally grabbed your shoulder, dragging you behind him, almost aimlessly trying to get off the street and orienting himself by other building walls.

Only one thing ran through your mind. You could have been dead. The stress tugged at your consciousness, but your adrenaline kept you running with Ghost until he pulled you into a building and pushed you down under the window, while he stood guard beside you. "...not far!" was the only thing you heard from your savior and lieutenant before you collapsed and the world enveloped you in blackness. You weren't prepared for such situations. And today, it seemed the team wasn't either.

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