#Intel security issue

[qqueenofhades]

I really really REALLY need to see more people makimg the connection between trump and his russian handlers tbh.......like i know we've somehow gone through the looking glass of putin apologia but that piece abt the NYT you just posted, the bots, the interference: in the bag for trump? Yes. But i dont believe its due to his or even republican power or popularity or forcefulness.......this is a man with so much debt and kompromat thats only getting worse!! Not to sound kwazy BUT WE ARE BEING FULLY INFLITRATED and at the risk of conspiracizing i think the russians are ALSO behind the Times's demise along with so many other information centers etc. Like i KNOW these leftists love him but like. Wouldnt they care a LITTLE abt being manipulated like this???

Trump is 100% an active, willing, and eager Russian agent. That's not even paranoid conspiracy theory, that's just the only reasonable interpretation of the facts:

NOT TO MENTION that in the next two years after the Helsinki conference where Trump kowtowed to Putin in every way, the CIA admitted to losing huge and unusually high numbers of classified informants around the world (not CIA agents, but people secretly working for the American government in often-hostile countries):

Once again, this all happened when Trump was in office, when he was actively handing over CIA intel to the Kremlin against the wishes of the entire national security establishment, and which other experts have suggested was directly as a result of Trump handing over the identities of American informants to Russia, including those stationed in Russia itself:

Now, I could go on, but you get the point. Not to mention that Trump just lost a major UK-based lawsuit against Christopher Steele, the former MI6 agent who was the first to provide documents linking Trump to Russia in the controversial "Steele dossier":

And now: Trump is deeply in hock for hundreds of millions in legal fees and punitive judgments that are only increasing by the day, he somehow just came up with $90 million to appeal the judgment against E. Jean Carroll (nobody knows where he got this money either), and Russian state TV spends all their time openly salivating for Trump's return to the presidency (so he can hand over Ukraine and the rest of NATO and, as he literally said, "let Russia do whatever the hell they want.") I know we're largely numb to all the awful treasonous shit that Trump does, but like. This isn't a conspiracy theory, this is just what's going on in plain sight, and while the Online Leftists have recently become so stupid that I honestly can't tell if it's just terminal brainworms or active Russian psyops, it's strongly indicated that it is in fact a mix of both:

So, like. Just some food for thought.

[tacticaldiary]

Reader joining 141 for a mission and Simon is not having it and is pissed at price for calling them and all of the other guys are confused about why ghost is so upset till they find out reader is his wife after the mission

Maybe reader got hurt and ghost goes off on price

The Price Of A Secret

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive-"

"This is different." He grits out.

"And why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the table. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

A/N: It's 2:45am and I have no energy to proofread caution advised-

Masterlist

The moment the picture of the intelligence officer joining them flashes on the screen, Ghost puts his foot down.

"She's not coming."

Everyone in the room pauses, Price staring at Ghost mid sentence. It's the usual 141, and then it's her. Sitting there with a mildly frustrated look, refusing to look at him because she should have known he'd try to pull some shit like this.

"Why not?" Price folds his arm, narrowing his eyes. "Is there an issue, Lieutenant?"

She was supposed to work from the inside, drawing out data and cracking through defences that they then passed on to people like the 141. An integral part of the process of running the whole task force, but not once was she involved in hands-on field work.

It's not that she's incompetent. No, not at all. Ghost would have his head bit off if he even remotely implied that because it simply isn't true. She got the top scores in almost every part of her training exercises, and yet she chose the intelligence part of the military to serve in. His wife was as competent as they got.

His wife.

"This is a covert operation, the fewer people the better." That's what he goes with. Not because his heart picks up at the thought of her being anywhere near what they deal with every day.

"I won't have the range I need to retrieve the data from their servers if I'm not close to them." She speaks up, and their eyes meet from across the room.

His determined, hers resolute.

Sometimes he really hated that she was so fucking stubborn. It had been the same stubbornness that cracked down the iron grip he'd had on the walls in his mind and around his heart, but if that stubbornness was what got her killed Simon would give up this joy in a heartbeat.

He'd do it for her if it meant she kept on living.

"This isn't up for discussion, Ghost." Price states, "She's part of this operation on my authority."

"Price-"

"End of discussion. You settle whatever you have going on outside this room." And fuck, he can't refute a direct order like that, can he?

Ghost sees her release a long exhale, and he knows he won't share such a relief until this damn operation was over and done with.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Her body is so limp it scares the ever-loving shit out of him.

Ghost grips her so tight it's as if he himself is the only thing tethering her soul to her body, boots thumping hard against the muddy ground as they retreat back to their extraction point, data successfully retrieved.

Successfully, not smoothly.

The plan was simple. They'd flank the building while she camped out near the edge of the woods, retrieving the intel they needed. A couple of fuckers slipped out of the building and went straight for her.

Ghost's stomach turns when he remembers how he found the scene. She wasn't answering through her comms, but he knew he wasn't able to leave his position until the building was secure.

Waiting felt like an eternity, he could feel Soap send troubled glances in his direction at the way Ghost was unusually silent and more brutal than.

When the building was finally secure, they'd gone to reunite with her position and found three men dead, bloody seeping into the ground in a crimson mess. The last one standing hovered over her unconscious form, over his wife with a knife raised ready to slit her thought.

The only thought Ghost had as he ripped the man away with his hands was that he was going to take the one good thing in his life away, and he would not let that happen. Not her. Not like this.

"Bleeding wound to the head, unconscious but still breathing!" Gaz called out while Ghost shoved the man's own knife into his throat. Tossing the gurgling body aside like a ragdoll, he's immediately by her side, assessing before carefully lifting her up in his arms.

It's the most emotion Ghost has ever expressed in front of the others, but he couldn't give a fuck about the looks or the questions right now. Her heartbeat against him settled him the slightest bit with the reassurance that she was alive.

Angry does not begin to describe what itches under Ghost's skin as they scramble into their exfil airship.

"Medic!" He barks the second they lift off. Setting her down, he brushes the bloody strands of her hair away from her face.

Despite the urge to stay by her side, the medic gingerly requests for him to take a step back so he could work. Ghost obliges but his eyes never leave her face.

He's painfully aware of his wedding ring pressing against his chest, strung onto a chain long enough to be tucked under his uniform. A matching one to her own.

Nobody speaks.

Perhaps they recognise the anger washing off of Ghost in waves, because if they'd just bloody listened to him, she wouldn't be laying there with a head wound.

The atmosphere is heavy and sombre. Even Soap keeps his mouth shut, too confused by the outward, uncharacteristic way Ghost was acting to make fun of it.

It's only when the medic announces she's stable that the suffocating knot in Ghost's chest loosens. There's audible relief from everyone in the place.

"Bloody hell." Price breathes, and something in Ghost snaps.

"I told you to dismiss her from the op." He says coldly, turning to the man.

"We got what we needed, son." He sighs, deep and tired, and part of Ghost understands that this was their life. But he's too worked up to care.

"At a fucking cost."

"People get injured on the job, Ghost." Gaz tries to defuse the situation. "She's alive, that's all that matters. Nothing permanent, yeah?" He glances at the medic, who confirms with a nod before slipping away.

"This is different." Ghost grits out.

"Why's that?"

"Because that's my wife!" He hisses, slamming his fist onto the metallic walls. It strikes them harder than if he were to have yelled it at them.

How long had it taken for Ghost-...no, for Simon to let someone crack open his defences until he was coaxed out and allowed himself to love again? Four years they've been married, and four years he's kept it a secret.

It's not that he doesn't trust his team. He trusts them with his life, would lay his own down for Johnny, Gaz, and Price any day.

But this? This was bigger than him, she was the most precious thing that had ever happened to him, and the safest way to preserve that was the keep it on a need-to-know basis.

She'd agreed with him, of course. In that soft, patient way she always has with him. She'd seen the paranoia in him, recognised that he needed this one thing for himself, and she'd been more than happy to oblige.

What was outside validation about her relationship worth when she got to crawl into his arms at the end of the day? Be granted the pleasure that comes with being loved by someone as protective, intelligent, and sharp as Simon Riley? She adores all of him, even the jagged pieces that cut into her from time to time, because he's always there to take care of her afterwards.

"She's my wife." He repeats quieter, sitting back down. Exhaustion lines the slope of his shoulder's dark circles well present under his mask.

"You're married." Soap is the first to speak, incredulously. "You? Ghost? You're married?" His eyes flicker down to Ghost's left hand, and then to Gaz and Price who look equally as surprised. "I mean, congratulations?" He trails off, knowing it's not really the situation to celebrate.

"Thanks." A tired, small voice has everyone's attention back onto the figure on the bed. Ghost is on his feet in moments, by her bedside. "It'll be five years in...what, a month?" She cracks an eye open, giving Simon a tired, smile.

"Two months." He corrects with a mutter, and Johnny looks like he might just collapse. "Sitrep?"

"We're not on the field anymore." She groans, pushing herself to sit up. Ghost's hands fly to her immediately, helping her sit up. At his blank, insistent stare, she relents with a deep sigh. "My head's killing me but other than that just a few scrapes and bruises." Her hand travels down to grab his at her shoulder, squeezing briefly.

"I'm alright." Her voice turns into something soft and reassuring, and it's only then that a quiet, shuddering breath comes out of Simon's lungs. "I think I'll sit to working from the inside though." She jokes weakly. "Leave the dirtier work to you brutes."

It lightens the mood as intended, eliciting a snort from Gaz. "Yes, ma'am."

He'd make sure she got checked out properly when they landed, but for now he takes his place sitting beside her. The others fall into a hushed conversation after a while, but he makes no move to join them.

A warm hand intertwines with his, hidden beneath the bulk of their combined gear.

"I'm alright, Simon." She mumbles, just loud enough for him to hear.

Simon squeezes her hand in response. "Fucking hell, love." He breathes.

And it's enough to convey everything he's thinking. Humming, she tips her head against his shoulder and lets her eyes slip shut. The warmth of his body, even through the tang of copper is enough of a familiar comfort to drain the tension from her body.

She's fast asleep against his shoulder a minute later, and the devil himself couldn't make Simon move lest he wake her now.

He wasn't a publicly affectionate person by any means...but he trusted his team enough for this right now.

Letting his own head press against the metal wall behind them, his eyes shift to meet Price's. A softer, knowing look from the Captain is all he needs to hook his chin over her head and turn his attention outside the small window.

And if he counts her breathing while she sleeps for his own peace of mind? Well, that's no one's business but his.

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(10/09/2023)

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Dumb idea but what if you were found after being MIA for five years

The task force were confident in their ability to get the intel they needed from their current mission. They had been following this cell for months, knew more about them than the people paying them for information and had slowly chipped away at their defenses without getting their attention.

They were on the cusp of getting the intel they needed.

They had infiltrated the base without issue. Having taken out the guards in the perimeter so efficiently it was as if they had never been there in the first place. With the coverage of nightfall, they were undetected as they came up to the base and soon they were sneaking through the halls.

With every hostile they encountered they took care of them swiftly, leaving the bodies in a pool of their own blood before they even shot at them.

They reached the main room of the base and began their work retrieving all of the information they could from the computers and papers spread about.

Just as they collected enough information, alarms began to sound off in the base and in the distance they could hear gunfire.

Soap quickly looked at the cameras and saw a different group to the hostiles they were stealing from. They didn't look familiar as they gunned down the hostiles with expert skill.

"Who the fuck-"

"Doesn't matter." Price immediately went into action, barely paying attention to the cameras. "We need to get out of here."

In their attempt to get out unscathed and undetected, they ended up in the middle of the firefight. The fight became confusing; it was hard to tell who was shooting at who and where the hostiles were coming from. Many of the hostiles the 141 stole the info from began to die in front of them at an almost frightening speed, leaving the other group to push up.

The task force was close to getting out, if they could get past the threshold and run to a rendezvous point they'd get out without further issue-

A car bomb went off.

The blast sent Price into the ground, mostly unscathed saved for the wind being knocked out of him and temporarily taking his hearing with it.

He struggled to get up the others continued the fight, unable to get to him as they held their ground. They called out to him but he couldn't recover as quickly as he wanted to.

Someone approached him from the dust and he attempted to fire at them before he was kicked in the head. He became even more disorientated, barely able to hold onto consciousness as the person searched through his vest for the USB he had taken.

Price couldn't see their face and as he tried to fight them off, they shoved him back once they got the USB.

They were gone just as quick as they appeared. The gunfire slowly stopped and the group had disappeared, leaving the 141 with barely any ammo left and scraped up, and confused.

The mission went from successful to a complete disaster in mere moments.

Back on their temporary base they were left confused and defeated.

"How did this happen?" Gaz huffed.

"A group that small taking them head on would've died." Ghost said. "They were waiting for us."

"You believe that, sir?" Soap wondered.

Price hadn't said much since they got back, his arms crossed and a sour look on his face. He didn't like when things turned out like this, when things get taken from him so quickly without anyway to fight back. Usually an ambush never ended up with this much disaster...this had to have been planned.

"I do." He uncrossed his arms and looked to Laswell who was trying desperately to salvage this. "Can you find out who they are?"

"The cameras there recorded the incident but there's no identifiable markings or clothes that they wore." She explained as she sifted through her laptop. "I may have found our culprit."

The boys huddled around the projector, watching as the footage replayed from the security cameras.

The group walked out from the shadows into the cameras vision. They wore all black and all of them had their faces fully covered except for one, who looked at if they were given orders to put the bomb on the car.

Closer to the camera, it was easier to make out some of the features, but nothing looked recognizable until the person turned around.

"Pause it." Price's eyes widened and he felt his chest tighten. "Zoom in."

The others looked confused for a moment before they too felt their stomach drop. The air in the room became thick and every single one of them could only hear their hearts in their ears as it suddenly became hard to fight against their knees buckling.

Half a face they hadn't seen in five years, recognizable eyes that were darker and full of more hatred than they ever imagined to be possible.

The image was fuzzy but there was no mistake.

You were in the footage alive, five years after being confirmed MIA.

[drabblesandimagines]

Elevation

Leon Kennedy x female reader More of my fluffy nonsense

Hunnigan slams the phone down into the cradle at the end of her call and if you hadn’t already been casting auspicious glances up at the scene before you, her actions would’ve made you jump.

“What is it, Leon?” Hunnigan’s tone is blunt.

It would be so easy to look up at the handsome DSO agent then. You’d be perfectly within your right to look up too, your desk opposite sat directly opposite Hunnigan’s so you had ring-side side seats to the commotion. It wouldn’t look odd - he’d be in your eyeline, after all - but you fight the temptation, keeping your eyes fixed on the paper in front of you, fingers tapping idly away over the keyboard as you transpose to the screen.

Exactly what you’ve been doing the past ten minutes that Leon Kennedy has been wandering around the office, dressed in a pair of form-fitting jeans today, his gun holster peeking out from underneath a beloved leather jacket, directing all attention to a certain pair of assets.

Not that you were keeping track of how long he’d been there, of course, you had work to do.

“Huh?” For someone who had apparently been waiting on her call finishing, Leon’s thoughts seems elsewhere.

“I said,” Hunnigan adjusts her tone, “can I help you with something?”

“Does there have to be something? Surely a guy can just come visit his favourite FOS agent.”

“But you haven’t come to visit, you’ve come to loiter.” Hunnigan retorts. “I told you already, if I have anything for you, I will be in contact. Go home.”

There’s an incredulous scoff as he tries to think of a reason to stay, but it quickly transforms into a sigh as he admits defeat. “Fine.”

He begins his retreat towards the exit and you hear the tell-tale beep of his pass against by the door panel, the electronic lock then clunking in release.

“Have a good afternoon, ladies.”

You look up then – and only then - to find him looking directly at you. You give him a polite smile in return. “You too.”

He grins in return, a proper one that makes his eyes crease, before giving you a nod and a wave as he through the door. The smile stays on your lips as you reach for your mug of coffee – now ice cold - and take a sip.

“I think he likes you, you know?” Hunnigan states in her oh-so-nonchalantly way, making you choke on the gulp you’d just taken.

“What? No…! I mean, who?” Your voice is tight in response from having swallowed the liquid the wrong way, internally cursing. Smooth, real smooth.

“Leon.” The agent continues hammering away at her keyboard, kindly ignoring your attempts at being subtle.

“I don’t know where you’ve drawn that conclusion from.” You don’t – you really don’t. You could probably count the amount of conversations the two of you have had with all of your fingers, all just pleasantries.

“I’ve worked with him for years now and he’s never been here as much since your transfer started.”

“Coincidence, I’m sure. He just seems eager for work.”

Hunnigan goes to open her mouth in response when, thankfully, the phone on her desk rings. Saved by the bell.

--

Being afraid of elevators had never really been an issue until you had taken this assignment, being sent to work on the 12th floor. At the very least it’s proving to be a good workout the number of times a day you now trudge up and down the stairwell from your desk to the archives below. The DSO holds a surprising amount of paper copies of intel in the basement – both handwritten and old typewriter documents - secured behind a vault door, rumours of the place being rigged to ignite in flames if an intruder is detected to prevent it all from falling into the wrong hands.

The DSO board had decided that intel should now be stored in the government-secured cloud and on paper and you’d been brought in as an archivist/analyst hybrid, on loan from the CIA. The project you’d been tasked with, single-handedly, was transferring intel that was currently only held in those paper copies to the online system. There was technology that could do but it wasn’t perfect – scrawled handwriting would often prove indecipherable by most machines or it misread words, so everything would need quality checked. It was agreed a human touch was best and your name had come up after the CIA had undertaken a similar audit of their files a few years ago to excellent results. Once everything had been digitized, it had become easier to quickly identify any links between incidents past and present – using surnames, terms, intel – and even stopped a handful of potential ones, so the DSO had been keen to put the practice in place.

It did mean, however, that every day you’d go down to the vault, select a box of paperwork – either the one you’ve got partway through or a whole new one - trudge back up the many flights of stairs, and then start typing from page to screen to produce a digitized document. It was imperative that no-one else see the documents, so they’d set you up in Hunnigan’s office as one of their most trusted agents.

Wanting to look professional whilst in the office but not break your neck on the stairs, you kept a selection of heels in your locker to swap out of for your reliable sneakers. Hunnigan was still working away when you packed up around 7pm, kicking off your heels to switch out, and had been in a lengthy, hushed tone call for the past hour. You nodded your head as you heaved the box of documents up in your arms, and she waved back in acknowledgement.

Beeping your ID card at the door, the lock buzzed and the door opened automatically – a godsend as the box you had today was particularly heavy – everything within held in those awful arch-lever folders.

As you emerged, you heard the puff of the elevator doors beginning to slide shut, not even giving it a moment of thought. You turned to the left to head down the stairs as usual, when a gloved hand slammed between the elevator doors, preventing them from closing with a thud and giving you a start, turning to see a face.

The face of Leon S Kennedy catches you entirely by surprise. He hadn’t even been by the office today to bother Hunnigan, though you know he does have his own desk somewhere in the building, maybe even his own office. He smiles at the sight of you, beckoning you over.

“Hey. Hop on in - I’m going down.”

You hesitate at the invitation. You haven’t been in an elevator for years and he’s just stood there, waiting, holding the door open. You have to say or do something. “You okay?”

Next thing you know, as if you’d been hypnotized, you were walking towards the elevator, then stepping over the threshold into a place you swore you never would enter again.

“Basement?” Leon fingers hover over the button panel in anticipation.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He presses the buttons for ground and basement simultaneously with two fingers, and the door slides shut with another puff of air.

The elevator and your stomach begin to descend in unison.

This is fine.

“Looks heavy. Can I…?” He gestures to the box, offering to take it.

“Oh, thanks, but it’s okay.” You bump the box up with your knee, trying to strengthen your grip on it. Your palms are sweaty, but you’re not sure if the cause is the elevator or the handsome man besides you.

Leon crosses his arms, leans back against the wall. “They still not given you a lackey to do all the grunt work? I thought that’s what they took on interns for these days.”

“It’s difficult when no-one else is meant to handle it, let alone see it but me.” Leon gives you a quizzical look at that. “It’s protocol, narrows down the potential for leaks. If anything gets out, it’s on my head, so…”

“What about when you take breaks? You don’t…”

You nod, shifting the box in your arms again. Why do they feel like jelly? “Gotta lug it back downstairs to be locked back in the vault.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Mm-mm. It’s fine – good exercise for me, I guess, between sitting at the desk all day, so…”

“Surely they could at least give you a desk closer to the grou-“

The elevator’s smooth descent is transformed into a shudder, followed by a loud metallic screech and a sharp jerk that makes your stomach truly drop before all motion halts. No, no, no, no.

“Huh.” Leon muses, calm as anything. He immediately presses the emergency call button, illuminated in red, but the only sound that emits out of the speakers is static. He presses it again to the same result, and then in rapid succession, as if that’ll coerce it into working.

You tighten your grip on the box, wanting to tell him to stop but, thankfully, he gives up before you can have the strength to find your voice and pulls his cell out from his pocket.

“Damn, no reception.” He looks back over to you then with a sympathetic smile. “Well, this is one way to get overtime outta us, hey?”

There’s no chance to reply before the elevator plunges into darkness and you drop the box immediately, thankfully away from your feet. It can only be a few seconds at the most but it feels like an eternity before the emergency lighting comes on, casting the small metal prison in a pale yellow hue.

Leon’s staring at you, looking concerned. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” You reply, not at all convincingly. You bend down to pick up the box to escape that blue-eyed gaze for a moment, heaving it back up in your arms. “Is this… normal for this office?” You hope he can’t hear how tight your voice is.

“Power must be down, seems like the back-up generator kicked in.” The agent shrugs, looking around the elevator as if something of use might be around. “It’ll prioritize the critical systems – so I’d guess lights, vending machines and elevators are not gonna be particularly high up on that list.”

“Wonderful.” You reply, breathily. It’s warm. Should it be warm? “Here, let me just…” Leon reaches over and gently tugs the box from your weak grip, no sign of surprise at the weight of it as he takes it. “We don’t know how long we’ll be in here, so let’s put this down.”

“No, I shou-“

“I promise I’m not going to try and read any of it.”

You watch him as he places it down, he’s sure to bend with his knees rather than his back, and tucks it into the corner under the button panel, out of the way. He stands back up to his full height, looking at you for a response, but all you manage is a shaky nod.

“Are you feeling okay?” “Y-yeah. Fine.” “Mm. Not a great liar.” He tilts his head, scanning you with his eyes once more. “What’s the matter?”   “I…” Another swallow in the hopes of your mouth not feeling so dry. “I don’t like elevators. Always take the stairs.” “Oh.” Not the answer he was expecting it seems. “Wait, why’d you get in, then?” “Well, er…” You hesitate again, how do you answer that? “You… You told me to.”

He can’t help the goofy smile that crosses his face. “Huh, that’s all it takes? Interesting. I’ll have to remember that.”

You’re about to ask him what that’s supposed to mean, the words just on the tip of your tongue when the elevator jerks and they turn into a shriek. It’s over before it even begins, really, but Leon’s reflexes now have you pressed up against the wall, his arms braced above your head to protect it from any sort of impact.

“It’s all right,” he says, softly. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Your heart is beating too fast, tears burn at your eyes at the fright. He’s so close, you can smell his cologne – musky, hints of vanilla – but this isn’t where you want to be having this moment.

“How about we sit down, huh?”

“I’m okay.” Your answer is breathy again, your chest feeling tight. Panting like you’d finished climbing up 12 flights of stairs.

“It’ll be more comfortable.”

“Don’t wanna…” You try and take a deep inhale, but it doesn’t seem to reach the bottom of your lungs. “Don’t wanna s-shake it.”

“You won’t.” He drops his arms from against the wall and instead grabs your hand, squeezes it in an attempt to ground you. “Trust me.”

You want to trust him, but the panic is too strong. This was such a bad idea, why did you do this?

“I…”

“We’ll do it together, okay?” He somehow coaxes you to shuffle forward and then slips in behind you, taking hold of your other hand. “Just lean against me and we’ll ease on down.”

Leon presses his chest firmly up against your back and you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating. He wraps his arms around your waist next, meaning you’re hugging yourself in a way before he slides down against the elevator wall, bringing you down with him, onto the carpeted elevator floor. He thought it was a seamless maneuverer, but the way he’d felt your nails dig into his leather gloves from how tight your grip was, he knew you weren’t of the same opinion.

“There we go.” His thighs are spread either side of yours, now that you’re nestled inbetween his legs. “Worried you were gonna pass out – you’d gone really pale. Just sit here and concentrate on your breathing a minute, okay? Feel how I’m doing it.”

You close your eyes and try to concentrate on how he’s breathing, feeling his chest expand as he inhales, loudly and deliberately through his nose, holds the breath, then exhales heavily through his mouth, tickling the back of your neck.

You try and mimic him, get your inhales and exhales in sync and, slowly, the pressure begins to ease in your chest as you feel your breaths get deeper and deeper.

"Feeling a little better?”

His voice reverberates from his chest being pressed up against your back, feels comforting. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. My fault you’re in here, after all.” He replies, gently. “I’m gonna move now, okay? Wanna check you’ve got the colour back in your cheeks.”

You nod, and he somehow manages to shuffle back and to the front of you with overly cautious movements – definitely for your benefit, ever the gentleman - withdrawing his legs into a crossed position and giving you a smile as he takes in your appearance. Being so fixed in his gaze makes your cheeks prickle with heat – maybe not the colour he’d hoped to be checking.

“Yeah, you’re looking better. Good.” He nods in affirmation, more to himself than you. “That noise – I think someone was trying to get the power back on, sounds like it only worked for a second before it could get going. The elevator’s not gonna fall.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve had to disable some of them before – for work, I mean. They’re all equipped with multiple failsafe systems to prevent that exact scenario.”

“Disable them?”

“Just so they stop…” He gestures in a circle as he tries to find the words, “elevating, I guess, so I’m not pursued. Make ‘em take the stairs.”

“Ah, right.” You nod. “Wind them a bit.”

“Exactly. If you don’t mind me asking, you always been afraid of them?”

“No. Got stuck in one in an old apartment block years ago – it didn’t feel particularly modern. There were three of us – me and two drunk guys who kept jumping up and down, convinced that would make it move. The fire department got us out after two hours cos I had one of those… episodes. Haven’t been in one since.”

“Idiots.”

“They just kept laughing the more panicked I got. I felt so stupid.”

“Panic attacks are no joke. That box breathing always helps me if I feel on edge, though.”

“Yeah, that was really good.” You feel a shy smile creep over your face. “If I had to get suck in an elevator with anyone, I’m glad it was you.”

He practically beams. “Now I don’t feel quite so bad. I’ve gotta ask again though, you really got in here just because I said to?” He’s already seen you a panicking mess, so why not just be honest? “Your smile helped too.” “Well, consider me flattered.”

“It’s a nice smile…” You swallow, a little cautious of the next word. “Enticing.”

You swear you see a smidge of colour flush Leon’s cheeks then, but it must be a trick of the artificial lights. “Well, since we’re confessing – yours is too. That’s the real reason I was bothering Hunnigan. Wanted to see if I could win another.”

“You came to see me smile?” You’re definitely blushing now – cheeks prickling with the heat.

“Guilty. I don’t think you’d remember, but a week or so back I was having a real shitty day. Went to go debrief with Hunnigan and she wasn’t there, but you were. When I stormed in, you just gave me the best and most genuine smile I’d seen in days. Meant a lot.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly.

You smile again, can’t help it, and he groans, jokingly. “Ugh, see? Not again – I don’t think my heart can take how sweet it is.”

You don’t know what to say to that but you’re excused when, suddenly, the lights transition overhead with a flicker from the emergency dulled tones to the standard, harsh fluorescent light and the elevator begins its smooth descent once more.

“Finally, huh?” Leon gets up easily to his feet and then offers you a hand.

“Yeah.” You accept it without hesitation, goosebumps prickling up your arm as he wraps his fingers around your hand and he pulls you up with ease. Slyly, his other hand now rests on the small of your back, drawing you in close…

The elevator dings, announcing its arrival on the ground floor and the doors slide open to reveal a maintenance worker, clad in blue overalls, waiting in the lobby. Leon draws back then, but still keeps his hand steady on your back.

“You two all right? Power-cut had rotten timing, I was gonna repair that emergency speaker tonight when most of the office was cleared out.”

“All good, thanks.” Leon bends down, picks up the box again without question and you follow him out of the elevator in pursuit, only to hear a cell begin to ring from his pocket. He balances the box with one arm – you’ve no idea how – and pulls out the device, frowning at the name on screen.

“Sorry, I’ve really gotta take this.” His brows furrow in annoyance. “You be okay with taking that downstairs?”

“Yeah, of course. I really should take it back now anyway, you know, just in case…” You trail off as he eases the box over to you, making sure you’ve got it properly before he lets go. “Thanks… for everything.”

“Pleasure was all mine.” He replies, sincerely, before reluctantly lifting the cell up to his ear.

“Kennedy.”

You leave him to his phone-call and head down the stairs for a thankfully unremarkable trip down to the vaults to replace the box back in its rightful place. It’d be a lie to say when you climbed back up to the lobby that you weren’t disappointed when there’s no trace of him to be found.

--

The next morning, after passing through the security check, you make your way down to the archive vault as usual, pressing your hand against the door panel to gain access. Sadly, you’ve still got a lot of work to do in the box you’d been working on yesterday, so you dutifully log its withdrawal in the computer system, and heave it up once more in your arms before heading out.

You only make it up one flight of stairs when you see him, leaned up against the stairway wall, one arm held against his chest whilst his other hand is holding his cell, squinting at some text. He looks up as you scuff your trainer on one of the steps and he smiles as you reach him, tucking his cell back away.

“Good morning.”

“Morning. What brings you here?” You curse inwardly. “I mean, not that it’s not a pleasant surprise, just…”

He waves it off. “I getcha. Well, I have some pretty good sway here, you know, so I’ve volunteered.”

“Volunteered for what?”

“Volunteered…” He steps forward and wraps his arms around the box, “..to be your stairs lackey.”

“Oh, no – it’s fine, honestly.” You feel flustered at the very idea. Leon’s one of the top, if not the top agent of the DSO. He can’t be doing manual labour for you, he shouldn’t. “You have so many better things to be doing. I can mana…”

“Please?” He tilts his head, gives you that enticing smile again. “I mean, I could just tell you,” – he teases – “but I thought I’d ask this time, so you’re sure.”

The smile makes you feel weak at the knees and you’d already proven yesterday you couldn’t resist its magic. “Okay. But you should definitely take the elevator then.”

“Uh-uh.” He shakes his head, taking the box into his arms. “It’s good cardio, got my weight-resistance. You’re practically doing me a favour by taking the stairs.”

“Is that so?”

“Mm-hm. Though,” he bites his lip in a pause, “I may have ulterior motives.”

“Right, and what would those be?”

“If I were to, say, visit the office around six tonight and carry this thing back down to the vault, maybe you’d go to dinner with me?”

God, you feel absolutely giddy - there’s no way you can hold back your smile. “I think that’s… acceptable.”

“Then we have a deal. Ladies first,” he nods with his head to up the stairwell.

“No, I… I think you should go first. Just so I can keep an eye on you on the way up. I’ve got to make sure you’re not sneaking a peek at the assets, you know?”

He quirks an eyebrow, you know he’s wondering what you’re thinking, but he shrugs it off all the same. “As you wish.”

And as you follow him up 12 flights of stairs, you slightly breathless and him seemingly fine, you can’t help but sneak a look at a different pair of assets before you.

---

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[writersdrug]

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 12)

<- Previous

Summary: A new assignment opens up a new chasm between you and Konig. Warnings: swearing, tha's it

Note: And four months later, we have Chapter 12! I won't say anymore about it, I made a post earlier explaining my absence and I don't want to mingle that in the beginning of the chapter. The following chapter won't take too long, I had it written up closer to the start of the fic, so it needs some dusting off and it'll be out soon!

- - - - - - - - -

“You with me, girl?”

I jumped in my seat, locking my wide eyes with Ridgeback’s narrowed ones. He sat across from be, perched behind his desk with straight posture that screamed authority. The silhouette of Price faded from my mind like smoke in the air.

“Yes sir.” I answered, shuffling my feet together and folding my hands between my thighs. I couldn’t look at him just yet, so I let my gaze fall to his desk. Tidy, neat – no signs of smoking, although there was a fancy looking bottle of what I assumed to be vodka next to a small, crystal glass. Everyone has their own coping mechanisms, I guess.

“Good – we’ve got quite a bit to discuss.” He reached into a drawer beside him and pulled out a manilla folder, gently tossing it onto the desk.

I grimaced instinctually. Was this a collection of complaints against me? It stung a good bit to see how thick it was – I thought I had at least been tolerated by everyone, but if they had this much to complain about, it looked like I was less liked than Juno. Who could have had such a qualm with me?

I briefly wondered if Konig’s thoughts were hidden anywhere in that folder, and for a moment, my heart dropped even further. Anxiety simmered lowly in my gut, and I tried to focus on my breaths to ease the tremble in my hands. My leg bounced nervously as my eyes lingered on the folder.

“Don’t look so sour, this isn’t paperwork.” Ridgeback said with a chuckle, and I looked back up at him. He slid the folder over to me. “Our last mission – real fucking easy, remember it?”

I looked at him with a faint glint of confusion, hesitantly pulling the folder closer to me. I nodded with a wary expression.

“Well, ‘course it was fucking easy. It was a cover.” He leaned back, sighing through his nose. “Shit-show’s worse than we thought. Take a look.”

I was in complete darkness as I tried to figure out what Ridgeback was talking about. I hastily flipped open the folder; the first few documents were identification papers for the hostages, the family members of the Swiss government official that had been snatched for a ransom, seemingly by a group of inexperienced, wanna-be-soldiers. Gang members, more likely. The following pages didn’t make any more sense to me: Swiss intelligence, a mole in their own defense, a coverup –

I looked back at him, struggling for a moment to find what I wanted to say. “This – this isn’t about me?”

Ridgeback’s eyes narrowed, mirroring my own expression. “I don’t follow.”

“Not – there’re no complaints – no problems with me?” I asked. My tongue felt heavy as I stumbled over what I was trying to say, because – well, once it came out of my mouth, it sounded rather ridiculous.

He raised his eyebrows, folding his arms over his chest. “Should there be, Bonnie?”

I paused. “… No…”

He nodded slowly. “Ok then.”

Relief slowly flooded my mind, accompanied by embarrassment. I shook my head, banishing my minor shame to the back of my mind. “Right- sorry, what’s this about then?”

He sighed, as he sat up to lean over his desk. “The mission you all handled – beautifully, I should say – was a cover-up. Swiss intelligence had a turncoat, and the hostage situation was used as a distraction for the real issue.” He flipped through the papers until he landed on an intel report, and I leaned in closer to skim over it. “Sons of bitches are selling security information, bank details, government secrets, you name it. Majka picked up a wire going to the wrong people after the hostages were returned, selling out incriminating evidence.”

I skimmed over Majka’s report. “Viola Amherd, runner for President of the Swiss Confederation (election set in December 2023)… family was returned safely to headquarters… wiretap and evidence shows sensitive information was leaked to anonymous line on October 29th… involving floor plans, safe house locations, names, personal, and bank information of security team members…

I leaned back in my seat. “Fuck…” I groaned.

Ridgeback nodded. “Same thing I’d said. Probably why the offensive team was so easily eliminated; some random criminals got promised a lot of money, didn’t even know they were pawns – while this shit was happening in the background.”

I shook my head. “But what for? And who did the wire go to?”

“We haven’t figured that out yet, so your guess ‘s good as mine.” He clicked his tongue, reaching over to the bottle of vodka and the class and pouring himself a hefty portion. “Probably what everyone wants: power, control, and war. They’re threatening the candidate because she’s promising to change the country for the better – of course, that puts their money at risk.” He took a casual, slow sip of the vodka, making me wince at the simplicity he swallowed it with. “Majka’s working on getting more intel as we speak. In the meantime, we’re back in a job.”

I chuckled at the irony. “We haven’t even gotten the full paycheck from the first job.”

He took another leisurely sip of his drink “We were the ones who caught the wire, we’re the ones to stop this train from completely derailing.”

“Sounds about right…” I muttered, looking at the now half-empty glass. “Who else knows?”

“You’re the first one I’ve told.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Favoritism?”

Ridgeback chuckled. “Most relevant – and, knocking two birds with one stone.”

“How so?”

“You’re briefing Konig.”

Both of my eyebrows now shot up. “Me?” I said in disbelief. “Why not tell him yourself?”

He thrummed his hands against the desk, staring at the paperwork as he searched his mind for the right words. The fact that he was rather intent on wording his explanation correctly put me on edge. Konig, from what I had gathered, was as close to Ridgeback’s right-hand-man as one could get. In most cases, Konig was the first to know about any briefing materials. Why me?

“I want you two working together on this.” Ridgeback said, his voice deep and stern. “We were lied to before, and I’m not sending you all back in there scattering, when we don’t know how deep this rabbit hole goes. We were crossed once – can’t be sure it won’t happen again.”

My mouth hung open like a door on its last hinge. I realized just what he was saying – it wasn’t just about briefing Konig. “You want me to partner with him.” I confirmed.

He nodded. “You two seem to have a good dynamic, from what I’ve heard – and seen, too.”

I felt warmth rushing into my cheeks, wondering just how much Ridgeback had heard. Just what was on the field? Or everything else? I knew he had just seen us beating the shit out of each other in the hallway, but… did he know more? The incident? Our conversations? Banter? It was never anything notable; still, the thought of someone witnessing the more domestic moments between me and Konig almost felt like a breach of confidentiality.

I cleared my thoughts away, picking at the seam of my pants along my thigh. “What about Horangi? Two peas in a pod right there.”

“More like two puzzle pieces, too similar to fit together.” He downed the remnants of the vodka in his glass. “Don’t get me wrong, they’re a spectacular pair. I’d say my best, even. But I see potential between the two of you.” That made me stare at the floor, lip twitching in both annoyance and embarrassment. “So we’re switching things up this time. Horangi’s with Roze. Fender and O’Connor, of course. Castillo with Zero. You with Konig.”

“You’re taking a big risk for a mission you consider to be a rabbit hole.”

“You have a problem with my decision?” He asked; a challenge, he presented, as he leaned back in his chair and gave me a look.

I stared back at him, wanting nothing more than to bark out my opinions. “What about Juno?” I blurted out. I remember how Konig had been paired with Juno from the start of the young soldier’s career. Even if it was more of a babysitting job, wouldn’t it make more sense to put those two together, given that they had a longer history than Konig and I?

Why am I pushing against working with him so much?

“Juno will be staying behind.” Ridgeback admitted, looking down at the paperwork. I could sense that there was more to be said, but knew it would remain a secret to me. “You and Konig have a dynamic, you know that.”

I sighed. “I just find it hard to believe that it’ll carry onto the field. And I don’t want him to be nannying me, either. I’ve got skill.” My tone turned a bit more defensive as I realized this might be what Ridgeback had intended. Maybe Konig was right – I am defensive.

“’S not about that.” Ridgeback quickly shot down my hypothesis. “I know you’ve got your screws in right, the whole team knows. You demonstrated that on your first mission here.” I shifted uncomfortably from the praise, averting my eyes to the floor once again. He leaned his head down to direct me back to him. “This is about keeping my soldiers sharp, alert, and safe. I’m not making this decision on unsupported claims. I see what’s there – communication, trust, and a bond – and I’m putting it to use.”

I sat there, a bit dumbfounded, as he leaned back with a sigh. “Plus, it’ll do him some good.”

I furrowed my brow for the umpteenth time since I had stepped foot into his office. “What’s that mean?”

He held his breath for a few moments, eyes scanning across his desk as he searched for the right words… then sighed. “Konig has… a tendency to stick to the familiar. As you know, he usually works with Horangi – and I have no problem with that. They’re both good soldiers. But I need the kid to branch out a bit.”

I laughed. Referring to Konig as a kid was amusing, though I could see it fitting with his boyish nature – at times. “So, what, is this like a social intervention for him?”

“Call it what you want.” Ridgeback replied, sliding the folder over to me. “But you’re with him on this one. We ship out in three days. Best talk to him tonight.”

I looked at the folder, then at Ridgeback. He sat back in his chair, looking back at me with raised eyebrows. Dismissed, he seemed to say.

I huffed. It felt a bit demeaning, despite that he insisted this wasn’t some sort of babysitting experiment. I knew my place as his subordinate; I knew my place. But there was something in the way he expected me to push back that made ire burn under my skin. I swiped the folder from his desk and promptly stood, heading towards the door and already dreading the conversation with Konig.

Ridgeback opened the file cabinet behind him and pulled out another folder, with Roze’s and Horangi’s names on it. He then slid the drawer shut, but not before I noticed a label sticking up amongst the files, highlighted in orange: Daniel Graves.

For a moment, my mind blanked. The stories of The Shadow Company and Las Almas briefly flickered across my thoughts, and I wondered if there was a relation. It felt ironic – although I was never involved in that era, and “Graves” wasn’t the most uncommon surname… nonetheless, an uneasiness settled in my gut. It was too coincidental for this to be unrelated.

Ridgeback noticed my hesitation, and cleared his throat. “Anythin’ else, Bonnie?”

I looked at him; there was a warning behind his eyes, though he tried to mask it. Keep moving. Forget what you saw. I couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a threat, or a caution. There were enough obvious secrets floating around the base that I wasn’t meant to be a part of, so I tucked the curiosity in the far corners of my mind. I could revisit it later.

“No sir.” I answered, and he nodded. I left his office and closed the door behind me, leaving my unanswered questions in the room.

My feet carried me down the hall and towards my dorm as I began contemplating the discussion I’d just had. The mission, the fact that no one had conspired to get me kicked off the team – which was a relief – and that Ridgeback had considered me skilled enough to be paired with Konig. Even more shocking, was that Ridgeback was encouraging me to be friends with him. In a way, it felt like middle school, when the teachers would pair two kids together for a project and hope that the relationship would somehow stay glued together through high school. But everyone seemed to respect Konig’s space, letting him be when he wanted to be, and acting like he had been there from the start when he jumped into a conversation. So what was this?

“Not an experiment” my ass. Why else would he pair me with Konig, without running us through trials first? Why was this so important to him anyways? I’d never met someone so highly ranked that cared so much about his subordinates getting along – which, I supposed, was a good thing… but it was unusual. And I didn’t like that I was a centerpiece of his little test run.

But why? I thought. Konig’s an adult – sure, a strange one, but he knows what he’s doing. He’s a fucking colonel, for Christ’s sake. Why does Ridgeback care about his social life in between work? Doesn’t he have Horangi, anyways? It’s not like he’s a helpless bastard, he’s got a decent social battery on him.

I looked at the folder in my hands. I could just slide it under Konig’s door and call it a night. It would be rather childish, but I didn’t feel like talking about the situation tonight. I decided to just send him a text message, saying I needed to do amend a report from the previous mission, and we would talk in the morning. I knew I was falling back into avoidance, but I didn’t care. It was another problem for another day.

I turned the corner, and immediately groaned. Konig was sitting next to my door, head leaned back as he gazed at the ceiling.

Looks like we are discussing it now…

I announced my presence with a gentle sigh, and his head tilted down to look at me. He immediately got to his feet and assumed his usual position of towering over me. “What happened?” he asked worriedly.

“I thought you said you would go without me…” I grumbled as I approached him.

If he picked up on the sourness dripping from my tone, he didn’t mention it. “I didn’t. What did he say?”

I shrugged, trying to put off the impending discussion. “Nothing horrible – but we’ve got another job.” I jutted the folder in his direction, letting my irritation leak into the action.

He eyed me warily, but took the folder from my hands. His palm nearly dwarfed it as he flipped through the file. I could see the confusion in the creases of his eyes as he scanned the pages. I leaned against the wall beside my dorm, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I don’t understand…” he mumbled, eyes hastily scanning left to right across the pages. “Did I miss a briefing? Did we miss one?” he looked back at me.

Internally, I scowled. Because where I go, he goes – and vice versa. How did I become so reliant on him? Being friends was one thing; constantly being shadowed by him, like we were joined at the hip, was another. And the most frustrating thing about it was that I didn’t truly hate it.

“No. Commander just handed it out. There will be a briefing though, tomorrow morning. He wanted me to fill you in.”

Konig closed the folder and let his arms fall to his sides. “But- why not just wait until the briefing, then?”

I sighed, letting my eyes roll a bit. “He wants us working together on this. Doesn’t want us going in alone like last time.”

“Is this…” He narrowed his eyes and stared down the hall, as if he was trying to glare daggers at Ridgeback through the walls. “What is our position?”

“We go in first and clear out as many hostiles as we can. Clear the way for Roze and Horangi to extract the information from the enemy’s software, and make sure they get it done without any distractions. Fender and O’Connor will be eagle eyes-“

“No.” He interrupted, rather bluntly.

I felt my irritation unfurl into something hotter and more thorned. I pushed off of the wall and faced him, straightening my posture indignantly. “No?”

“I’m not going in there with you.” He shoved the file back against my torso. I barely caught them, making the papers crumple a bit.

I scoffed, the fire in my veins only spreading. “Is there a problem?”

“I should be with Horangi.” He stated firmly. His fingers clenched in and out of fists by his thighs.

“Believe me, I already suggested that.” I snapped, planting my hands on my hips. I made sure he could tell by my expression just how irritated I was at his tantrum. “Commander said no changes, no arguments. He’s with Roze.”

He sighed frustratedly, looking over my head. I threw my hands up exasperatedly, before letting them fall to my hips. “Hello? What’s your issue?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then enlighten me, Colonel.”

He looked down at me, and I could practically feel the anger seeping from his gaze. But I refused to back down – I had no idea why he was so pissed about the arrangement, and no idea just exactly who he was mad at. Ridgeback said this wasn’t a babysitting gig for him – but maybe Konig saw it that way.

“I can handle my own.” I said. “You heard what happened on the field before – why are you so against this?”

“You shouldn’t be at the front.”

“Why not?”

I could see his jaw growing tense beneath his balaclava. “Because you’re not-“ he cursed, something in German, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Have you ever been in that kind of position?!” He growled out.

“It might not be my forte, but I’m not an idiot.” I bit back. “You’d think a goddamn navy seal would know what they’re getting themselves into, hmm?!”

“No, you’re- scheisse, you’re not an idiot. But you aren’t ready for something like this. You’re a marksman!”

I felt anger rising into my throat. I raised my eyebrows and chuckled. “I’m not ready?! Oh, that’s what’s got you so fucking mad – you think you’re gonna have to carry my weight?” I took a step closer, craning my neck back to see him, but not losing my resolve. “Is that it? You think this is going to be like babysitting Juno all over again?”

“I never said that.” He replied coldly, looking down at me.

“Then get over yourself. I’ve been doing this for almost ten years now, and I’ve obviously done a damn good job to get to this position. I don’t know who you think you are, telling me I’m not good enough to be out there.”

“I’m your goddamn Colonel.” He snapped.

“Then fucking act like it and grow a pair!”

I could tell he was angry. Although it wasn’t the same fury that I had witnessed on the heli over a month ago, it was something more emotional. Rooted deeper and connected to something I didn’t understand – nonetheless, something he would have to get over if I was going to continue to be a part of the team.

He snarled, snatching the papers from my hands and storming past me. I turned and watched him go, frustration boiling over in my chest, as he headed swiftly down the hall and towards Ridgeback’s office – I could only assume, to talk about changing the pairings for the mission. His empty hand furled and unfurled at his side as he marched, and I could vaguely hear him spitting out German under his breath.

I stood in the hallway and stared after him. A bitter taste climbed from my esophagus and settled in the back of my throat, something all too familiar and unwelcome. Had I not done enough to earn my place on the team? Did I not demonstrate that on the first mission? I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me – here I was, thinking I had made progress within our friendship and my place in KORTAC, but now I doubted that he ever really saw me as an equal.

Sure, I had been angry about the arrangement before he even knew about it… but that was for a different reason. He was being childish, I was being… reasonable. I could feel some holes developing withing the reasoning there, but I refused to acknowledge them.

I huffed, refusing to let my mood be dictated by Konig’s antics. Maybe he’s just jealous that Ridgeback didn’t inform him first… I justified. I gave one last frustrated grimace down the hall where he had disappeared, before retreating behind my own door.

I suddenly remembered that we were supposed to be getting more beer for Roze. I brushed the thought away – I’d explain the broken promise to her in the morning.

- - - - - - - - -

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Missed - short (pt.2)

Pairing; Yandere Las Plagas Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; it’s the week after Leon’s attack and the scientists examining and aiding Leon, need your assistance.

Reader description; Female/GN

Word count; 1k

TW; Dead dove do not eat, non-con, there isn’t really a smut scene, depends on how you interpret it, nonconsensual touching, messed up shit, ooc Leon. NSFW. Also tagged everyone who wanted to be tagged but its acting weird so few may not be notified.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

Nothing seems real to you anymore.

Your boyfriend working for the government was more than enough news to handle, but Leon obtaining some parasite, becoming one himself understandably tended to hurt your head.

After last week's events, you come by daily. While they did request this of you, you would have done it anyways.

Every day you wake then drive straight to the facility holding him; never missing a day. And with each passing day, he grows worse. His body changed, sprouting more veins than the last time you saw him. He looks lifeless. His baby blue eyes are now a piercing ruby color, that stare into your soul.

Leon as a person has altered. He’s more touchy, touching you anytime he can. Leon doesn’t care for your opinion, or consent on the matter. Not anymore. Aggression is a main part of his personality now. While Leon was rarely aggressive with you, it still terrified you to see him throw a tantrum and nearly rip out a security guard’s throat because you wanted to leave early.

His presence alone has grown suffocating. And You’re starting to get uncomfortable just being around him.

And the experimenters monitoring Leon aren't helping. They only ever approve of you around to gather intel. Sometimes they’ll guilt you into staying in his enclosure, observing his actions on the other side of a double mirror. Other times they’d full-on pay you to spend five or more hours with Leon. Of course, you’d have no issues if Leon acted like his old self. But that was the issue. He wasn't himself anymore.

It’s currently two o’clock and you’re attending Leon’s daily visits.

“We have one more experiment we’d like to run on Leon, but we need your help to explore what we’d like to explore.”

You nod, observing Leon from the other side of the double mirror. Leon sits crisscrossed next to a large television watching MTV mindlessly, gnawing on a slice of pizza. Leon sports grey sweatpants and a slight sauce messy white tee.

You turn your head finally providing your attention to the scientist beside you, “What is it?” you questioned.

She fixed her glasses to look down at her clipboard, “Well, Leon has been very emotional lately. We’d appreciate it if you’d go inside and just talk with him.”

You lift an eyebrow looking at her septically, “Is that all?”

She nods. “Yes, that is all. You know he only communicates with you.”

“Alright then.”

You enter Leon’s isolation when the door slides open. Leon’s room contained paper-white walls, an extensive mirror, both a couch and bed on opposite sides of each other, a television, and a bathroom area. It felt like a zoo enclosure.

Leon took a minute to glance your way. He was too captivated by the flashing images on the television. Wanting to get the interaction over with, you called out for him. “Leon.”

Leon’s eyes darted in your direction. “(Name)!” he jumped up, jogging over to you. He hugged you tightly, running kisses up and down your neck. You're frozen in an awkward position, “Hey, missed you too, Lee.”

Leon ceases his kissing, pulling away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “Been wondering when’s the next time you’d visit.”

You chuckle, “I visit every day, Leon.”

“It feels like an eternity when you're not around.”

Leon and you lay on the couch, Leon resting his head on top of your chest. You held him close, staring at the ceiling. For abeat there was a pregnant silence, the both of you focusing on each other’s company. Then Leon spoke. Leon asked about your life: how was work? Was anything new happing? Any recent drama. He yearned for a bit of normalcy. Wanted to forget about Spain. Just wanted his main reflections on you.

Since Leon’s trip nothing was the same, not for him. Not for you. While, yes, his normal life ended after the raccoon city incident, he managed to somehow have a- what would you call it? Semi-normal life. Living with you at least.

But now it was gone. The las plazas had terminated any chance of normality for Leon. And if by chance the government’s scientists somehow cured Leon of his parasite, he’d still be left with the side effects of retaining the Las plagas for as long as he did.

Leon’s body had changed in such drastic ways. And his main concern was the upsurge in his libido.

Hours and hours he’d fist his cock, mulling on the times you’ve sucked his cock. No matter how hard, how fast, or even the time spent he couldn't stop. It hurt too much if he did. The other day the pain didn't go away until he fainted from exhaustion. He needed you. He needed to stuff you so bad it physically pained him.

His mind was barraged with thoughts of breeding your sweet pussy. Leon wasn’t the idea of having kids with you, honestly, it thought about a lot. However, this was different. It was an obsession now. Thoughts on breeding you made him cum so quickly, it became his number one fantasy.

Laying here listening to your rambling on the next-door neighbor's fight last night, his nose picks up an ambrosial smell originating from you. You smell sweet. Oh so, so, so sweet.

Leon’s ears ring, deafening him. His eyes focus on your clothed thighs. How he missed the plush skin he used to lay on after a hard week of work. More than that, he missed planting kisses on them; earing drawled out moans of his name.

Almost like an instinct, Leon’s rough, calloused, hands griped your hips. You halt and looked down at him with curiousness. Uncertain of his next actions, you press your hands against him. Worriedly you utter his name, “Leon?”

Leon refuses to acknowledge the call of his name. His main priority being his cock beginning to stiffen in his sweats.

You swallow nervously, endeavoring to pry his hands off. “Leon, please take your hands off me.” you plead in a stern manner, to come off more as a command.

Leon shakes his head. “No,” he responded, voice trembling. “You have no idea how much I need you, (Name). It's torture not having you stroke me.” he nearly moans at the last part. He climbs up the couch to be face to face.

Leon’s eyes held an immense dose of desire as he looks at you through his eyelashes. “Please touch me, baby,” he whines. “Want ‘ya so bad!” he grips your hand, placing it near your mouth to plant a kiss.

You glance at the mirror, silently pleading for assistance. Comprehending Leon’s increase in strength, kicking him off wouldn't be an option since his grip on you tautened. “Leon, stop!”

Quickly you thought of a method of escape. You acted, moving to the side for your body to decline to the ground. Both you and Leon fell to the ground, dragging cushions with you. Immediately you are on your feet, dashing to the door. You slam your fist against the metal, bruising them in the process. You could care less. Your shouting so loud your throat starts to sting. Yet there’s no reply.

You know there are people out there! You saw at least five before entering.

Then a thought comes to mind. Did they plan this?

Leon yanks you out of your shock, slamming his body against yours. Your nose whacks against the metal, prompting a whine of pain. Akin to a vampire, Leon laches on your neck, trailing kisses up and down. He sucks, bites, and drags his tongue over the marks as his hand travels down the slit in your pants.

“Sorry, baby, can’t deny myself any longer!” he apologizes, surprisingly genuinely. You accept your fate, sobbing silently to yourself.

On the opposite side of the mirror, a group of scientists observe the interaction. They all have their clipboards out, noting down every action, movent, and emotion. A Handful of them watches in revulsion while the scene unfolds in front of them. Others treat it as any other experiment, having no sympathy for you. After all, they have no idea if you’re the worst person in existence or not.

There's one thing for certain. They’d be investigating the pregnancy of a human mother and a parasite having father.

Tagged

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[bucknastysbabe]

The Merger - C.Cole

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5k

Tags: 80’s corporate au, set in King’s Landing, Nyra’s daughter reader, pwp, enemies to lovers, subby Criston, service top Criston, misogyny, oral (f!receiving), pnv!sex, dom/sub dynamics, background rhaenicent, background alicole, desk boinking, man tears, Cristons Big Brown Eyes

A/N: This was an ask I accidentally posted too early so now repost! Thank you to the anon, loved this and hope you like. Inspired by RedRack’s work on Ao3. Idk anything about business

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @aemondfairy @elaratyrell @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @lovelykhaleesiii @sammmy7499 @starogeorgina @towriteloveontheirarms @zaldritzosrose

You were Rhaenyra’s eldest child and only daughter, the ‘haughty’ one. You’d grown up lavishly, a byproduct of the rich and powerful where one could pay away most problems. Like your parentage. Like your homosexual father and biological dad who happened to be the bodyguard.

Except someone from the other side paid right back and your dad was ashes. Laenor left not too long afterward. You were your mother’s child anyway— as bitter as it felt.

There was a schism and merger at the same time, two huge media conglomerates coming as one now. Your family had long owned a paper before foraging into radio then television, the Legacy Media Agency. Jaehaerys Targaryen and Alysanne brought one of the first channels on television.

Through tragedy and piss-poor mistakes, your grandfather remarried to one Alicent Hightower. Now he was dead and the position of CEO was swiftly voted in for Rhaenyra. Alicent bristled, coming from a media conglomerate family of her own.

The Hightowers were in the movie and TV Industry, Green Flame Studios. They ran the golden age of film in Westeros, easily adapting and changing however into the current state. Television channels and multiple production companies. They’d even nabbed up a music label out of Lannisport.

Much money and meetings later, there was a heated merger due to a clause drafted up while your grandfather was on his deathbed. CEO and COO would be up for grabs again. Tension was filling the building in King’s Landing. Otto was back along with his sleek-looking son. Rhaenyra was growing stressed. Now Daemon was off securing funds and heads, the woman growing edgier by the day.

On a recent evening she sat down with you, the ever dutiful daughter. Jace was more of the smooth heir, able to gloss over and smile his way into the hearts of others. You took a step back, working on a law degree and willing to do a dirty deed if requested.

You and Mother sipped drinks in her office, gazing out over the sparkling city of King’s Landing. It was a shit hole brought up to some sort of glory in your opinion. Rhaenyra huffed, “The rest of her boys are coming. Aemond’s cutthroat but irrational, Aegon can be puppeted but has a raging coke and alcohol problem. Helaena is out of the picture. That leaves the little one, the freak, and the doggy.”

“So a little boy, Larys, and Criston I take it?”

You took off your blazer, rolling your eyes, “Dear uncles want to strangle us. Aegon and Aemond might tear each other to shreds before that could occur. Otto and Alicent, cracking as she may be, hold them together.”

Rhaenyra grimaced, “She ran the company while father was sick. It’s a good look. I was popping questionable children out, working, but not seen like her. She’s got that yuppie housewife bitch look about her, but she’s no Targaryen. Gods.”

You were pretty sure they fucked or something. Mother always went a little distant and quiet regarding Alicent, even if her words were vitriol.

Throwing expensive heels upon the fine desk of many CEO’s past you asked, “What have you need of me? Dirt, intel? I’m not coming near that whisperer, he’s too smart. Wasn’t Cole promoted to some busy work position? Probably Alicent’s fuck toy. I never liked him, he’s got issues.”

Your mother grinned, laughing, the most you’ve seen in a while. She leaned up to squeeze your ankle. Rhaenyra hummed, “You’re a fine woman. Fine, fine woman. Knows what it takes to win. Keep an eye on Cole. He likes the rich girls anyways, yet all of this has him so stressed he’ll be a bigger prick than usual.”

The blonde waved a hand.

“Do what you need, he’s weak at the end of the day. Probably keeps Ali’s underwear in his drawer. Brute. He was sweet once, I fear his issues and my selfish desires fucked that up worse than it needed to be. He’ll never have it, sad as it may be,” she lamented.

You felt pity for the Marcher. Handsome as could be, powerful energy, good with acquisitions of small companies. It stopped there— most considered him an idiot. You’d have to reluctantly get to know more, considering all of the vile history. But you’d do it for Mother.

Standing up in the dim office you nodded, “I’ll do what I can, we should take everyone out for the beach one day. Good publicity. It’s widely known we are more stable.”

She smiled. Your mother was so beautiful, you were glad to see her in better spirits before they were inevitably dashed.

Soon the Green’s employees began to show. Wylde, Lannister, Strong, Cole. Aemond and Aegon also appeared. The first meeting was miserable. You’d sat back and taken notes, sitting pretty next to Jace and Baela. You noted Alicent was the resident female leading the pack, the pack being dogs that would turn on her.

Aemond was the key one. Likely Aegon would get shoved forward if they kept him in line. Otto barked and waved his hands with Rhaenys, he liked the sidelines. Your eyes flickered to Cole— perfectly coiffed and manicured, his suits tailored sharp and tight to show off his body. He certainly looked like a fuck toy.

His dark eyes raised to meet yours, thick brows furrowing. You scoffed and turned your attention elsewhere, the egotistical fucker aggravated now. You could hear his ringed finger tapping against the wood. Prick.

By the end of the week, Rhaenyra held a tenuous hold on CEO, Alicent had taken COO, and Otto had weaseled in as CFO. This was shite. Mother was outnumbered. Tyland Lannister should have had it, he put aside loyalties for success, and he’d served two sides well.

Life in the offices post vote was interesting, to say the least. You’d often be around, observing and speaking with employees. Today you had worn a little black blouse with a bow and a fitted tweed skirt, tights emphasizing your long legs and patent heels. You had a plan. First you made sure your hair was still presentable and reapplied your lipstick. With a smirk, you sauntered over to his oversized cubicle.

Criston Cole. Up jumped prick. It was obvious he was some sort of release for Alicent, leaving her office adjusting his tie, smoothing back his hair, lips still wet. You had gathered he was wildly misunderstood— a whore and a sexist bully. Yet others spoke of him revering women and kind to most. Some said he was dumb as a box of rocks, others said he was quietly crafty in the right environment.

Confusing. But you could do with a whore.

You leaned against the wall, watching his shoulders and biceps bunch as he looked over the potential acquisitions, likely in tech. He had his walkmans on and fidgeted as he read. You eyed his cubicle, immaculately clean, two photos on the wall. One of him in the military shaking a commander’s hand. The other was of a man holding a young Criston, a beautiful Dornish looking woman laughing next to them.

Mommy issues? Maybe. Seems normal enough.

The maybe-bully turned around and pulled off his headphones, raising a brow as he chuffed. “What are you doing staring at the back of my head like that?” His lips turned into a scowl at the sight of your smirk.

“Merely getting to know my mother’s new workers. My coworkers, somewhat. I’m just here for help.”

He eyed your body, dark orbs traveling upwards. Criston watched you with a tight smile, spreading his muscled thighs as his chair rolled around. You remained stoic, waiting on the inevitable snark or nasty comment.

“So what is mommy’s little princess doing besides flouncing your bows and snooping around?”

Oh. You wanted to kill him. Smack that smarmy look off his face.

“What? That’s what you do. Skip around and flirt with that big chip on your shoulder. It’s almost cute, knowing what you are.”

You ignored him to continue, “I’m overseeing the new employees to our building. I’m in law school. Besides, I don’t need some fucktoy bully with muscles for a brain to snap at me. Watch your godsdamn mouth with me and how you speak on my family.”

You glared him down, watching Criston get flushed and submit easily. There it was, not a hard button to find. A little meanness, a little firm hand, and Criston Cole was putty. You grinned, patting his desk, “Good boy. Perhaps you should keep your mouth shut more, or go get it glued back to the green queen’s cunt.”

He inhaled sharply as you walked away victorious.

You dialed your mother up from the car phone, cackling about the experience. The pair of you schemed, you needed to get under Criston or over him. Whatever it took to figure out more…perhaps you had your own desires. He hadn’t been going to Alicent’s office as much since you slipped up. Albeit was quite known.

The further away from her he was, the better. That’s how you could snag the man. The upcoming gala would be time to strike.

You wore a strapped, glass-beaded black gown to the gala, some bullshit reason to meet around and prove that all was swell, give out idiotic awards and swaths of money. Your curls were piled into an updo, brows thick, and eyes shadowy. Your lips were blood red. Black gloves went to your elbows.

You knew you had to bang Cole tonight. He’d softened some around you since the moment in his cubicle but he was tighter than the damn Iron Bank when it came to anything of information you wanted. He looked handsome in his designer suit, pressed and prim. Hovering behind Alicent, looking like a puppy. You frowned between sips of your champagne. You needed him away from her!

“You’re hot you know,” came a slurred voice.

“Ah. Dearest uncle of mine. Coming to hit on his family. How many flutes I wonder?” You turned to face a grinning Aegon, purple eyes hazy, smelling like Joop! You rolled your eyes and let him jabber on, grinning at Aeg.

“You really must want a piece? You know fucking baseborn isn’t a good look, but your face is so cute,” you teased.

Aegon’s coked-up expression widened into a grin, his hands on your waist as you laughed it off. Jacaerys would pull him off, or Luke. Aegon’s lips grew closer to your neck before being yanked back roughly, one irritated Criston Cole glaring down at Aegon and sending him packing. You waved goodbye.

Criston’s big frame engulfed yours, his more masculine scent aided with some Calvin Klein tickling your nose. Damn this man for being so damnably handsome. He was looking down at you, jaw clenching. You hummed, “Thanks for the save, Cole. Didn’t know you had the knight in shining armor sensibilities.”

He gripped your arm, grunting, “I don’t.”

The taller man led you away, farther and farther towards the bathrooms. You laughed, Criston shooting a glare.

“Where are you taking me?”

He huffed, “Away from here. I have some questions for you.”

“This isn’t going to end up with you strangling me right?”

“Shut up, damn, you talk so godsdamned much!”

You rolled your eyes once again, trying to keep up with his long strides, the man unlocking a door and shoving you inside. You stumbled and cursed, Criston quick to pick you up. He led you over to the desk, picked you up, and put you atop the flat surface.

He stared, jaw clenched, eyes wide as they took you in— calloused hands ran up your pantyhose.

You cocked your head, humming, “I thought you were asking questions.”

Criston closed into space, hands gripping your thighs tighter as he snarled, “I don’t get you. You don’t work for the company, you’re a damn college brat with a chip on your shoulder.” His hands tightened again, fingertips digging into your skin.

“Anyways are we fucking or not?”

Criston looked at a loss for words, nostrils flaring in aggravation. You cooed, hand sliding across his broad shoulders and up to the nape of his neck. Gently playing and pulling at his curls, you leaned closer to his pretty mouth, noses touching.

The man exhaled sharply, voice less sharp as he murmured, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

How funny, you couldn’t either.

Your lips curled up in pleasure, eyes slipping shut as you kissed him softly, a mere press of the lips. Criston tried for more— only for you to pull back and chide, “Slow, we don’t have anywhere to be.” You could tell he was thinking, but Cole acquiesced and matched your pace.

As you lazily smacked lips with him, his hands eased up, rubbing up and down. You slid your tongue between his lips, moaning softly as he eagerly met you, hot and slick. He made a noise deep in his chest when you grabbed a handful of slicked-down dark hair. You pressed up against his firm chest, tongues and lips doing an age-old dance.

Criston sucked on your bottom lip, returning to sup at your mouth, hands roving up higher, your dress rising with the movement. You spread your thighs with a sigh, panting against his insistent mouth. You could feel the kiss grow messy, Criston pulled ever you closer. He flicked his tongue against yours, moaning in desperation.

You distantly wondered if Alicent let him kiss her much. If she let him do anything besides satiate a need. The way he was pressed tight to your frame and groaning like a man deprived from some kisses seemed to affirm that. He pulled back with a wild look, nuzzling and pressing his wet lips to your neck, dark stubble rubbing the thin skin.

You threw your head back for more access, panting and sighing. You pulled at his hair again and spread your legs wider. He gasped when you asked if he was going to eat you out like he did the COO. Criston grumbled, frowning, his hands pulling down your hose.

“Is that all you think I’m good for?”

You studied his downtrodden puppy dog face and felt bad, poor thing had a knack for attaching himself to unavailable women. Your mind railed distantly on what he said about your mother and your siblings.

“Maybe. Looks like you spend more time on your knees than in your cubicle from my time at the office, Criston.”

You pushed at his shoulder, Criston dropping down with a petulant look across his face. He continued to pull your pantyhose down, fingers hooking into your thin underwear along the way. He made a weak nose when you leaned back some, purring, “There we go, take it all off. Gods, you’re pretty down there.”

He moaned again, nosing at your knee, dark eyes peeling from your exposed skin to look up. Criston rasped desperately, “Please, I’m sorry.” Those dark eyes were growing wet. You ripped your gaze away from his face, trailing down his heaving chest to where his flushed cock pushed against his fly.

“Sorry for what?”

Criston whimpered, the sound escaping before he could swallow it down. You smirked, hands running through his dark hair as your legs began to spread. He was staring again, wordless pleading for a taste.

He croaked, “I- ah- apologize for my manner of speech and behavior toward you. I don’t want this to be merely a scheme.”

You murmured, softer than expected at his observation, “You’re a sap, aren’t you? Just want a pretty girl to be all yours hm? You can be mine, I think I’ll let you have me.” You twisted at his hair harder, eliciting another pathetic noise.

“Yeah, that seems nice, you’re going to be mine now. Don’t worry, I’ll let you stick around and hold me afterward Cole. What a waste if I didn’t.”

He choked out, “Please, yes, yes— I’ll be good I swear, I’ll be so good to you.”

You grinned, scooting toward the edge of the desk, soaked cunt right in front of Criston’s teary eyes. You cooed, “I’ll let you have it, Cris, just know who you’re serving now. Me. No one else. No more dallying around with Hightower, you’ll be visiting my office when I pass the bar. Doesn’t that sound sweet, tell me how good I’m letting you have it.”

He got another twist of his hair.

Criston desperately moaned, voice cracking as he gripped your thighs, lips hovering over your pussy. He croaked, “I’m yours, yours, no one but you. No Hightower, no Targaryen— Velaryon.” He sucked a wet breath in, need wracking the man as he began to beg.

“Please- please baby- let me treat you good?”

You nodded, pushing his face toward your cunt. Criston kissed up your thigh, coarse hands moving your legs over his shoulders. His lips were hot and wet, leaving a trail and shiver up your spine. You couldn’t help the throaty moan from your chest when the brunette inhaled with a curse— his molten touch and breath casting across your most sensitive flesh.

“C’mon, c’mon,” you breathed.

Criston wasted no time, delving into your slick folds, mouth immediately kissing and lapping at your soaked entrance. You cried out, thighs jumping and tightening. He groaned in delight, lurid sounds from his overeager eating— that gorgeous nose of his pressed tightly to your bundle of nerves.

“Ngh- Criston, fuck!” You inelegantly carried on, sounding like one of those sultry-eyed whores in the porn movies. The man between your thighs laughed, hands soothing up and down the outside of your propped legs.

There was reverence in Criston’s rumble, his dark eyes as he murmured between messy presses of his lips, “Taste s’fucking good baby.” You arched into his mouth, hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to your aching clit.

“Smart boy,” came your hum of pleasure. One of your knees fell to the side, Criston checking again with expressive eyes as he slid the center two of his digits across your pussy. You nodded, throwing your head back in ecstasy as the man mouthed and tongued at your pearl in sloppy movements. He was utterly lost in it, groaning as he sucked and licked, dexterous fingers deep inside.

The quiet room was filled with the most erotic of noises— squelching, whines, shuddery breaths, and his deliciously messy eating. No wonder Alicent kept him around— you deliriously thought. On that note, you cried his name, laying back on the desk to roll into him easier, his pretty face and fingers dragging across your tender spots. The lovely sting of his stubble added a level.

Pleasure laced up and down your spine, building hot in your lower belly. He moved faster as you began to whimper, moans getting pitchy and needy. He held your hip down with his free hand, moaning. You babbled, “F-fuck, gods, gonna come, can’t stop dripping all over you. Such a good toy!”

He gasped, tonguing around where his fingers stretched your hole, lapping up every bit of your essence like a last meal. You began to writhe, breath choppy between moans. Criston fucked you faster with his fingers, you could feel his obsidian eyes watching with feverish heat.

Your belly tightened and spasmed, that wondrous feeling of intense pleasure blooming when the marcher sealed his perfect lips over your clit again to suck. He had to hold you down with one hand splayed across your lower belly, strength evident as you bucked and whined and keened his name.

You shivered, tears of overstimulation pricking as he lapped you clean, sucking his fingers with a slutty little moan. Criston mumbled, “Was that good, princess?” His calloused palm rubbed your trembling stomach, soothing and maddening as you came down from the orgasm.

Eventually gathering your wits, you held out a hand, the ‘businessman’ helping you sit upright. You felt a mess, running a hand over your errant curls, cunt on display, pantyhose ‘round your ankles. Criston looked at you like a goddess, his ever-helpful hands easing your pantyhose up before you stopped him.

His thick brows furrowed in confusion.

You laughed softly, “You’ve done a good job, I don’t see why you don’t get a reward.”

Criston’s hands reflexively tightened, his big chest swelling as he inhaled. You continued in your saccharine tone, “I mean you ate me out like a champ, I’m sure you’re tired of walking off with cum in your underwear or a hard-on from hell. Poor puppy, you look so swollen too.”

Criston outright whimpered, “Hurts.”

You cradled his face, cooing at the furrow in his brow, how those almond eyes were nearly full of tears. Gods, he was perfect, all man but willing to be jerked around by ‘the lesser sex’. So they say. Your eyes shifted to his cock once more, painfully pressing against his fly. Criston made another pitiful noise.

“You wanna come? I’ll let you bend me over this desk. You better fuck me hard, gods know you’re used to getting ridden. You’re just a sweet little fuck toy, hm?”

Criston gasped, eyes closing as a tear slipped. He was shaking with need, mouth hanging open as he babbled, “Yes- m’your fuck toy, but I’ll do it good for you, I’ll make you come, baby, I’ll hold it I swear!”

You smiled, turning to get on your belly, legs planted on the ground now. You could hear him shucking off his blazer, fervent fingers ripping at buttons. While he divested his clothing you teased mercilessly.

“So excited aren’t you? Big man gets to fuck now. You’re welcome. Tell me who you serve now. Tell me who you belong to and I’ll let you fill me up.”

He croaked, voice cracking, “I serve you now, yours, m’gonna make you feel so good, I won’t come, I’ll hold it.”

You turned to eye his heaving chest, the dark hair trailing down to his thick cock. A moan slipped from your lips at his beauty. His pretty prick was so flushed, you’d give him some slack if he did come. Poor thing was already worked and messy tears would be no good.

“C’mon then, I’m ready, take it easy stud,” you said, pulling him by the wrist. That hand gripped your hip, fingers digging in. He was panting while guiding the weepy tip of his cock into your sensitive cunt. The tip pressed up into your folds, stretching you out agonizingly slow.

Criston heaved, easing in further, little grunts and huffs from behind. He gritted out, “Pussy’s fucking perfect, gods.” You closed your eyes, savoring the stretch as Cole eased the tip in, pausing with a tremble. You let him acclimate, the marcher moaning throatily.

“Shh-shit, shit,” he said, both hands on your waist now.

You moaned softly as he went deeper, his prick molten hot and filling you up. It ground against your ridged walls, your cunt gripping the intrusion, more pleasure crawling up your spine. He was whining through his nose, muttering about how good you felt, how tight and wet it was.

You soothed, “I know, take it easy, you wanna fuck me good and hard, you need it, Cris.”

Criston groaned, “Oh- thank y-you, I needed this, s-so godsdamn hard for you baby.”

You gripped the edge of the desk as Criston was deep, his trim hips against your ass as he carried on. He leaned forward a bit, breathing through the intense stimulation. You didn’t mind, his bitten-off whimpers were cute. He was a sweetie under all his bluff.

You told him so, earning another agonized moan.

Soon Cris’ cock wasn’t throbbing and his breath had evened out. You turned to get a look, pulling him in for a quick kiss, his dark lips swollen. Criston murmured, “I think I’m ready. I can take you good and hard like you want princess, if you’ll let me, I’ll be good, s’good.”

You whispered against his lips, “Have at it stud. About time someone put that strength to good use. But you better have me soaking your cock before you think about busting.” He nodded, eyes adoring when you playfully nipped his lip, reaching back to smack a lean flank.

You couldn’t help the noise pushed out of you when he pulled out to the tip, adjusting your hips so he could slam back in at the right angle. The pair of you practically howled in unison, the primal affair on. Criston fucked like a man deprived, quick, and strong thrust.

You cried out as his hips cracked against your ass, his heavy sac hitting your clit. Criston groaned and cursed, pausing occasionally on a good deep thrust just to get ahold of himself once more. Your nails dug into the hard surface of the desk, mouth hanging wide open.

“Yeah- yeah, baby, good boy- ohgods!” You cried out when he pulled you upright against his body, fingers thumbing and pinching your nipples. He slurred nonsense, wet kisses as he lost himself, only focused on fucking you into oblivion.

Sweat began to bead across your body, turning to gooseflesh from the stimulation. His fingertips swirling and softly tugging at your nipples sent a bolt of white-hot arousal down to your clit. You knew you were getting wetter for him. Hells, you’d started crying out in ecstasy, bucking back into him like a wild animal.

Criston growled, “I’m yours, let me be yours, I’ll do this every night if you see fit.”

How he was suddenly composed pissed you off. But you were too out of sorts to do anything but moan and roll back onto his fat cock that was wrecking you. Giving a little whine of acquiescence, you nodded. He was yours now, he was going to be your big scary guard dog that adores his lady.

You heaved at the thought, belly tightening up, nipples budding so hard it hurt. Criston began to slowly push you back onto the desk, his heated body following, enveloping you in his warmth and scent. Criston grinned against your neck, pressing kisses as he slipped a hand down to form a vee with his fingers, rubbing at your flushed clit.

You wouldn’t admit this later but you squealed. You squealed and thrashed and came so hard your vision blacked out. Ecstasy consumed every part of your body. You gushed on Criston, pussy pulling and pulsing around him. When you could see again— he was the perfect wreck.

The brunette was waiting for permission. He was desperately begging, voice pitched enough to make it crack. You could hear the warble of a sob building up. Yet the man still sloppily rutted into your cunt, discordant and choppy. He cried softly, “Pleasepleaseplease let me come, please, oh it hurts, I did good yeah? Hurts- nghhh- mhh- gonna pop baby please.”

“Fill me up,” you slurred.

Criston came with a silent scream, shaking all over as he shoved deep and emptied— hot seed overflowing your cunt. He whined and whined as his swollen balls emptied, enough to make your spent body shiver.

The moment of bliss became subdued, his shaky hand reached for a tissue, pulling out, both of you hissing as he caught the excess, getting another few tissues to clean both of you up. Criston quietly pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck, pulling your underwear and hose up.

You turned to help the debauched man get himself clothed and back together. He was quiet, lips quirked a little, smile not quite reaching his eyes. As you buttoned his shirt up and started in on his tie, you looked up.

“I do mean it, I don’t mind this, I think you’re not so bad under your yuppie dick persona you like to put on,” you teased gently, straightening the tie. Criston frowned a bit, exhaling, “I seem to get grief in return every time. But…but I like your sweetness that shines when you’re not preening for your mother.”

He gave a grin this time, a real one that made his eyes crinkle, a glimmer of warmth.

You kissed him again, humming, “Well- since you’re my sweet boy now, maybe Mother and Ali can finally hook up.”

That was the first real laugh you’d heard from the man. He pulled you in close, chuckling, “Perhaps we’re doing everyone a favor if so. We’ll figure out the hoops as they come. Probably will be upsetting our bosses.”

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#25: The Irresistible (1.03)

gif cred: @figmentof

Now this moment features another top-ranked Richonne kiss and the word of the day when talking about this Richonne scene behind a tree is 'CHEMISTRY' ❤️‍🔥...

We get to see Michonne inside a helicopter for the first time which is cool as she flies with Rick, Pearl, and others to the Cascadia base. Pearl, who just seems fully bought into the CRM ways, is trying to make Michonne feel like she should be so honored to be a part of this since she’s only a consignee.

Rick is sitting quietly in the helicopter and I’m sure he feels like he’s just been having some terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days every day that Michonne has been mad at him. Even tho first and foremost she’s mad at the situation they’re both in. But him a little too lol. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

Michonne again being an A with perceptive questions says, “There’s nothing out here. What’s it protecting?” And Pearl answers, “The security of the Civic Republic, expanded resources, intel operations along the West Coast, the future.”

Then when they arrive at their destination, Michonne is slaying in the CRM soldier uniform. 🔥 Like she serves in every outfit. 👏🏽

Pearl passionately goes over the mission with Rick by her side and again I love Michonne’s stance in this - she looks like she’s the one they should be taking orders from. 😋

Rick looks over at Pearl and Michonne looks directly at Rick. I love how she’s not even trying to be super subtle staring at him like 🤨.

gif cred: @perryabbott

Michonne was giving full wife stare-downs and clearly had lots of thoughts going through her head as she expressively blinked and looked away.

As she says later, she saw Rick here standing at attention as a soldier to this army and she knows this isn’t him and that he’s imprisoned here.

I also notice Rick doesn’t really look at Michonne in this scene and it’s probably a smart move. Because if he had looked at her those fellow soldiers would be like - now why is Grimes looking at Consignee Bethune like he wants to consume her more than the delts do?? 🤔

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Pearl is trying her best to seem like an alpha leader but she's dtm and not really selling it. She talks about the importance of what they’re about to do and the stakes saying that if they’re unsuccessful the plan gets set back and then she yells, “Do we allow the plan to get set back!?”

Rick and the soldiers respond, “No ma’am” and Michonne has me cracking up at her response to Rick saying “no ma’am.” 😂 She’s looking directly at Rick like now I know you lying lol.

gif cred: @perryabbott

But honestly, while I know there was some interpreting this as her getting the ick from Rick, I think this look has a lot more to do with her disdain toward the CRM. I feel like she’s thinking something along the lines of 'CRM, you did a real number on my baby and I promise you I’m going to undo it.'

And again similar to Rick in previous scenes, Michonne is not subtle with these stares at him lol. But I love it. She’s looking at him like 'Mr. RJ’s Dad if we don’t get up out of here by tomorrow it’s gonna be an issue because I’ve had it with this place and I’m ready for us to go home yesterday.' #DirectQuoteFromHerMind. 😌

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t note that Rick looks fine yet again in this scene lol. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Rick asks, “Who has the ball, ma’am?” and Pearl says with overconfidence, “I do.” And again Michonne’s whole stance and look is serving, honey. Goddess through and through. 👑

Pearl goes on to address Michonne, and Thorne's energy is just giving forced. She wants Michonne to be intimidated so bad but it ain’t happening. And Michonne is ready to match Pearl’s energy right down to their facial expressions.

Pearl tells Michonne to stay in formation and handle cleanup and no-kills off the line. Michonne just nods and Pearl tells Michonne not to panic if she gets lost because she can just hit the PRB and a helicopter will come get her. And even before seeing the upcoming scene, I was like why do I have a feeling Michonne will be the only one not panicking on this excursion lol. 🙂

gif cred: @perryabbott

So then they cut to them in the middle of the walker takedown and Michonne is about to walk forward and help (and it low-key feels like she starts walking forward cuz Rick is ahead and those magnets are always going to be pulling her in his direction. 🧲). But Pearl tells Michonne to stay back for no-kills.

gif cred: @perryabbott

I was like Pearl, this is basically like you’re keeping an all-star on the bench by keeping Michonne back. Like Michonne and Rick could probably handle all of this just the two of them. But Pearl is adamant and about as stubborn as that R-DIM that won’t budge.

Speaking of - Pearl is struggling to get this R-DIM moving, y’all. I honestly could not take much more secondhand embarrassment for the lady. 🫣 Rick tries to offer a solution but Pearl turns it down and says they should’ve given the last spot to a soldier instead of Michonne. Wrong again, Pearl. 

So Michonne watches, looking all determined, and she knows she can handle this so like a true Get Things Done Grimes she gets it done. 👌🏽

gif cred: @taiturner

Michonne starts pushing the R-DIM forward and Pearl tells her to stand down almost strictly because I’m sure she’s going to be embarrassed if Michonne pulls this off. But Michonne is already off to the races as she pushes the R-DIM.

And Michonne seems to feel like she’s back in her element doing this. See, It's not the R-DIM, It's not the Pearl, It's just that Chonne's that girl. 🎶💁🏽‍♀️

Then when it gets a bit harder to push she looks over and sees Rick by her side coming to help and y’all they’re just the best. 🥹

I love that Rick sees her doing this and joins and says, “Let’s go,” helping her rather than reprimanding her. He knows she’s breaking protocol but when it comes to following Pearl’s orders or following Michonne’s lead, well, his wife is his choice every time.

And seeing Richonne back in action taking down walkers was a lovely sight. It was giving TWD 7.09 when they were in cars mowing down that horde of walkers in sync.

All these years later and they are still that well-oiled machine even during a rough spot in the relationship. And if Michonne felt like she was in her element before, they both really feel in their element taking this on together. It’s the way it should be. 😌

So they get the R-DIM to where it needs to be and Rick turns it on. he tells Michonne, “Come on” as Rick reaches for her hand so they can run for safety. I love that he wants to hold her hand as he leads them somewhere safe and that she does take his hand. 🥰

I feel like amid their fight, they both were longing for some indicator that they’re still in this together and this handhold felt like that. Of course, Richonne + hands are always a great moment. 😌

And then next, TOWL gives us my favorite moment in episode 3.

The R-DIM alarm rings and then Rick and Michonne make it to what many have rightfully deemed the boneless tree. 😋 And I love the little detail of Rick making sure Michonne was able to take cover behind the tree before him. And that they hold hands the whole way. Just the cutest. 🥰

gif cred: @nat111love

The R-DIM sets off an explosion and Michonne and Rick immediately take cover in each other's arms and again I’m beyond here for it. I love that they both just instinctually grab each other. No matter how upset they are, they’ll always love and protect each other. 

gif cred: @nat111love

So they have this moment all up close and personal and because it is a scientific fact that these two are magnets & that adrenaline rushes are always particularly arousing for them, there was no way Rick and Michonne were going to be that much in each other's personal space and not do what they do next.

Like you think those magnets within them care that there are CRM soldiers nearby? No.🤭🧲

gif cred: @nat111love

So still holding onto each other, they have this moment of looking intimately into each other's eyes, once again communicating without words, and y’all the best way to describe the way they look at each other is ‘longing’ - like that deep longing for each other in every way was written loud and clear on both their faces. 

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick looks at her, then right at her lips, then back in her eyes and within a second he leans in and they’re right back to making out. I’m too here for it and I love this kiss. ❤️‍🔥 This was definitely their hungriest kiss thus far.

gif cred: @nat111love

I love how Rick sorta lifts up from the ground like he’s floating on air when he first kisses her. He really does kiss her like he’s still living in a dream.

I love how passionate they always are when they kiss. Even with Rick feeling like he needs to send her away, he cannot resist showing how he really feels as they kiss - and what he really feels is that he wants to be with her entirely and in every way. 

I feel like they both needed this moment of reconnection so much after being at odds. This kiss communicated clearly that before they’re mad, they’re madly in love.

gif cred: @nat111love

And then the second half of this kiss is when I was looking at Richonne like...oh y’all would go all the way right now if you could. 👀

Like I think one of the only things that stopped them from having this escalate was just the fact that those CRM uniforms are so layered lol. Because it wasn’t the fact that CRM soldiers were within walking distance. Richonne didn’t give a damn about that. I’m telling you it was just the layers of clothing and gear holding them back. 😂

gif cred: @nat111love

But being for real, these two really are wild because they weren’t even trying to align with the bark of that boneless tree to at least shield themselves a little better during this kiss. But hey, when they’re in their Richonne bubble like this, everything else goes out the window, so it makes sense.

But yeah the second half of that steamy kiss had them hot and bothered the way they were both moaning in sync and grabbing each other as close as they could. When Michonne pulled his hair Rick looked like he was about ready to get on top of her right then and there.

(Side note: What’s cute too is I noticed in their season 6 canon kiss that the first time Michonne ever puts her hands in Rick’s curls she’s almost hesitant to do it at first and then she just goes for it. And now it’s her favorite thing. 😊)

It’s been years and years since either of them has been physically intimate and this kiss right here lets you know they’re both very eager for opening that door up with each other again. Like it needs to happen expeditiously at this point cuz they’re ready. 

gif cred: @fishalthor

I love that something that’s always been true is Rick and Michonne are irresistible to each other. And truly no one does ravenous passion like Richonne. ❤️‍🔥

So I just adore this kiss for being a passionate moment of the two making their desire and love for each other so evident after not really talking much this ep. I almost forgot that in this episode Michonne hadn’t actually uttered a word to Rick until this scene. And her first words to him are perfectly delivered. 🤩

As they manage to pull away from the kiss, still completely unconcerned about being caught, they have this great passionate moment where they just stare right into each other's eyes and it truly feels like Rick is being hypnotized by Michonne as she smiles at him. #Enchanted😍

gif cred: @nat111love

I love the way Michonne smiles right after the kiss and I really love that Rick is always so helplessly mesmerized by her. He knows he’s going to have to push her away soon but at this moment he can’t even peel his eyes away. Because I really think in moments when he gets lost in her that's when he finds himself. 👌🏽

And (jumping a bit ahead) that’s why it’s crazy he'll even attempt to claim that everything they had is broken because anytime they get close enough, it sure does look like everything they have is perfectly intact.

Like these two stayed operating like a madly in love married couple even during the near eight years apart from each other. Even during that time, they were still more loyally married than some married couples who see each other every day.

And Michonne knows from that kiss that her Rick is still in there. The man who kissed her is the Rick who wants with everything in him to break out of this place and go home with her.

gif cred: @figmentof

So she smiles and all encouragingly and seductively whispers, “Come on.” So good and perfectly delivered. 👏🏽😊 And yet again we see the utterly enchanting effect Michonne has on Rick as he looks at her.

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick seems dizzy and breathless from this whole exchange as he faintly says, “They’ll find us. They will.” It’s clear he’s still so overcome with fear and a lot of that is because he knows how hopeful he used to be about breaking free from this place but every time he tried to escape they found him.

Like this isn’t the guy from the TWD series finale who got caught by the CRM and smiled. This is the guy whose been so beaten down by this place that he believes there’s nowhere he can run anymore. 😥

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne is still hopeful tho as she reassures him, “We’ll make it so they can’t.” It's super sweet to see them holding each other close and swaying in sync while they talk. And I love that Michonne believes in them so much that she’s like even if we don’t have all the answers yet, you and I are capable of figuring it out along the way home.

Plus, if Michonne thinks they can escape and not get caught then that's good enough reason to believe they can because she’s always right. It's just gospel. 💁🏽‍♀️ The way I see it, the only way the CRM would find them is if they keep having these loud moanversations near the public lol, otherwise the two of them can pull off any escape plan they make together. 😋

gif cred: @nat111love

But Rick is not willing to risk it and try to break away right now so he hesitantly says, “Not like this.” I know one of his least favorite things is having to turn down Michonne’s request and as he looks at her you can see it in his whole demeanor that he hates having to essentially tell her no.

Even the way he says it, it’s him trying to say no without having to outright say it, suggesting maybe there’s another way to escape just 'not like this,' even tho deep down he believes there's no way out for him.

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne is super saddened by this. She knows this fear-based response isn’t like her Rick.

And then I love that they do their signature forehead touch, even tho it’s a sad one. 🥲 This moment further emphasized that even when feeling defeated and disappointed, they still want to be connected. 

And y’all, to me Rick and Michonne doing this forehead touch out in the open was actually more wild than the kiss lol.🤭

Because if they were caught kissing they'd still have some major explaining to do but they could maybe play it off like they just really have the hots for each other after meeting in those woods. But this forehead touch says no these two have history and have a deeply committed relationship rooted in serious love.

gif cred: @nat111love

So if Richonne had been caught like this their jig would have been up cuz they would have had those CRM soldiers looking over like...

I always feel so sad when I see Michonne looking in Rick’s eyes during this moment and searching for her Rick who seems to fade in and out ever since she’s reunited with him. Like the back and forth between Sergeant Major Grimes and the fleeting moments with her Rick has got to be hard on her.

But I love the way she lightly nudges his nose cuz again it’s just giving magnets and idk that intimate movement just always feels like such a soulmates thing to me. 🥹 Like she's trying to reach the Rick that's buried inside cuz she knows he's in there somewhere.

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick looks at Michonne and from his expression, it's clear that while it deeply saddens him, he will put himself through the pain of parting from her if it means getting her back home safely to their daughter.

I think too in this moment as they lean their heads together Michonne is realizing just how much she’s going to have to fight to get them both home on her own since Rick isn’t ready to take the risk and break out yet.

Similar to what Rick had been doing up to this point, Michonne is now gonna have to take matters into her own hands for the sake of her family...and oh, she’ll do exactly that in these final moments of episode 3. 😅

gif cred: @nat111love

But as far as this enthralling scene 'behind' the tree, this was another one of those scenes where they were knocking the epic love story they promised out of the park. 🙌🏽 Their chemistry is truly elite. 😍 And I adore this kiss and this romantic moment that was just brimming with emotion and irresistible passion between Richonne. 

Throughout this episode, Michonne had been trying to keep her crazy at bay but now as the episode concludes and Rick proceeds to pull a crazy card of his own, she's gonna have to unleash that unhinged side of herself. And the final moments of episode 3 remind us exactly why they say Richonne has some 'crazy love.' 😝👌🏽

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Let’s assume for a second Meghan has been‘flagged’ as a fixated person or even a person of concern, can they be eligible for IPP? If she has been identified as a concern, can the government simultaneously give her that level of protection and access to intel?

This is all just speculation.

Disclaimer first: This is beyond my knowledge of national security.

Can a fixated person be eligible for IPP? Yes. Because everyone is eligible for IPP.

Would they actually get it? Mm, probably not.

Let’s talk it out.

First, the kind of information that protected people get in this case is information about the security threats against them and details of security plans designed to keep them safe. They wouldn’t be getting information about other protectees unless they’re at the top of the hierarchy (like say Charles or William) or the other protectee is their minor child because the compartmentalization of whereabouts and security plans is part of the safety plan.

Could a fixated person extrapolate the knowledge from their security plans to make educated guesses about someone else’s plans? Yes, they could. So that’s a risk that would be taken into consideration while determining someone’s IPP status.

But by and large the issue with fixated people (as I understand it) is not access to information but access to the person of their fixation. Which is why security exists in the first place. As long as there’s a degree of separation and security - and there would be between Meghan and Kate because Kate is the Princess of Wales and that comes with a totally different security posture than, say, the Duchess of Edinburgh - that’s really all that’s necessary. The security posture could change if the fixated IPP is in the same room, for instance like at the Platinum Jubilee service of thanksgiving where William and Kate sat in the front row of Section A but Harry and Meghan were sat across the aisle in the interior third row of Section B with sleeper agents positioned all around them.

Second, all the IPP (Internationally Protected Person) designation means is that the person has diplomatic status worthy of a protection detail. That’s all. It doesn’t come with a special security clearance or unrestricted access to anywhere or anyone their cold black heart desires. There are still rules and procedures they have to follow because all being IPP means is that they’re protected from the public. IPP does not mean that they don’t have to follow the rules and procedures of *other* IPP.

So what does that mean? It means that if the IPP fixated person wants to go somewhere near the subject of their fixation, they still have to follow the rules and procedures of the subject’s security team. They don’t get to just waltz right through the security checks and get all up in Michelle Obama’s business (IYKYK).

In other words, just because Meghan is IPP doesn’t mean she has free access to Kate. She still has to follow the rules set by Kate’s security team and I would imagine that if Meghan were to return to the BRF, William would draw his family’s security net even tighter to block any chance of Harry and Meghan trying to get through. For instance, there’s renewed gossip that Harry wants to move into KP Apartment 1 and/or KP Apartment 7 (Apt 1 being the former Gloucester residence next door to William and Kate’s 1A apartment, which supposedly the Waleses have taken over for more office space, and Apt 7 being part of Diana’s former residence). William will mostly likely probably block that because his family still uses 1A. And likewise, he’d probably block the Sussexes from returning to the Windsor estate, since his family is there now as well. (Meaning Harry and Meghan’s only options is St. James’s Palace or a country estate outside of London…neither of which meet Meghan’s very exact specifications.)

Third, the last piece of the puzzle: the security risk and threat assessment. Everyone who goes up for IPP status (or heck, even just to take a job in the civil service - which, let me remind everyone, the BRF is. They’re essentially government workers who live very cushy lives supplemented by generational wealth) has to go through a security risk and threat assessment where everything from our families to our hobbies to our known associates to our health to our travel to our neighbors and home is investigated and assessed via background checks and investigations.

(And yes, this most likely means that anyone who marries into the royal family who does not come from a known associate - eg a family known to the BRF like the Spencers and Fergusons were - probably has had background investigations done for them to be able to meet principal members of the royal family. Kate and the Middletons probably had one, though perhaps not as in depth since she and William were together for so long, but there certainly was one done on Meghan when Harry got serious enough with her that he wanted her to meet The Queen.)

Now the thing about background checks and investigations, security clearances, and IPP status is that if you leave the civil service to go work in the private sector for a few years and then you decide to come back and be a fed again, your old checks and clearances aren’t there waiting for you like an old coat you buried in the back of your closet for 5 years. You have to undergo a total and complete reinvestigation. And if there are things that pop up in your reinvestigation over behaviors or diagnoses or actions you did while employed by a fake mental health startup and Netflix (for example) that have violated certain codes, standards, ethics, laws, or that exponentially increased your vulnerability to being exploited by foreign adversaries, or that have exposed you as a significant threat to the mental, physical, and social wellbeing of a principal staffer, well, then, you’re not getting that job and you can kiss your old security clearance or your old diplomatic status or your old RAVEC status goodbye. Even if you’re related to the principal staffer(s) in question.

So to sum up. A fixated person is eligible to be declared IPP. But they still have to go through all the checks and threat analyses to actually receive IPP status, and that’s where the issue is.

Ignoring “fixated person” (since again, that hasn’t actually been confirmed and is only just gossip and speculation), this is why Harry’s latest tactic is to say “if only my father would just give it back to me.” He is eligible for IPP just on the basis of being King Charles’s son, and he has Tier 3 (case-by-case) status because of that. But Tier 3 isn’t good enough; he wants Tier 1 (25/8 permanent) status, but RAVEC’s position is that Harry is disqualified Tier 1 because of his own behaviors and actions. Harry wants Charles to overrule the government and so far Charles hasn’t, because he’s likely read the report that bringing Harry back in poses more danger to the Waleses than leaving him out.

To which I say yes, that’s true, but bringing Harry in means they can better control him and what he does, so it’s a safer security posture to begin with. The issue is Meghan, who has proven time and time again that she doesn’t play by anyone’s rules but her own and has no interest in being on a team. In that case, it’s a safer security posture for her to be on the outside and away from everyone where it’s easier to monitor her so that her arrival or appearance can be more easily and more carefully planned for.

Which is ultimately the core conflict. Harry wants Meghan. The BRF doesn’t (or can’t). So Harry will emotionally blackmail everyone to force them to accept her. They refuse. Meghan says “it’s me or Kate and if you don’t choose me, you’re all racist.” The BRF laughs and chooses Kate anyway. They go on a worldwide tour of privacy to declare everyone is racist. No one cares. So they go crawling back to the BRF. The BRF says “only Harry, no Meghan.” But Harry wants Meghan. The BRF doesn’t. And around and around and around we go.

[diazsdimples]

Several Sentence Sunday

I've managed another little bit of Frostpunk AU today so pls enjoy that. I felt very much like I was working alongside the boys with this one today cause it was 6 degrees all day and I was FREEZING.

Eddie had hoped that the job at the sawmill would get his mind off Sophia and Adriana, but if anything, the long hours staring at plank after plank of wood focuses his mind further. The only thing holding him back from grabbing the nearest backpack, gathering supplies, and heading off to get them himself is the fact that he doesn’t mind his life in Sector 118. For the first time ever, he feels as though Christopher is sufficiently cared for. They have a home that’s warm (granted not as warm as it could be, but he isn’t about to complain), Christopher spends his days with Denny in the Children’s Shelter where he’s provided with food, toys, and each room has a coal burner. His job provides them with security and food tokens, as well as a surplus of wood he’s permitted to take home to Buck and Christopher to burn overnight. Sure, he would much rather be out with Buck, scouting through the world outside the city and gathering intel on survivors, but this is fine too. That’s what he keeps telling himself. It’s fine. And then there’s Buck, too. Eddie doesn’t exactly know where he stands with the guy. They’ve been sharing a bed for well over a month now, and while there isn’t technically anything romantic between the two of them, Eddie can’t help but wonder if there’s a possibility that there might be, sometime in the future.

There’s something in the way Buck looks at him, with those big blue puppy eyes, or the way his eyes crinkle with joy whenever he’s around Chris, or how his touches linger, as though he’s not wanting to let Eddie go. Eddie doesn’t want Buck to let him go.

He can’t sleep without Buck’s arms around him, something he’s learned from the nights where Buck is away on a mission, and honestly that scares Eddie a little. He never meant to let them become so reliant on this man but here he is, owing his very existence to him. Leaving in the middle of the night would be a poor way of repaying his kindness.

NP tagging

@theotherbuckley @hippolotamus  @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard

@neverevan @babybibuck @aroeddiediaz @spotsandsocks @bibuckbuckgoose

 @bucksbignaturals @bucks-daddy-issues @wikiangela @loveyouanyway @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@cal-daisies-and-briars @exhuastedpigeon @kitteneddiediaz @thekristen999 @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

@perfectlysunny02 @actuallyitsellie @dangerpronebuddie @tommysdaddykink @lonelychicago

@elvensorceress @underwaterninja13 @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @thewolvesof1998

@monsterrae1 @inell @rogerzsteven @wildlife4life @bigfootsmom (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[siilvan]

bloodsport – V

prologue | one | two | three | four | interlude

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: after a talk with price, you decide to make a risky move. keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, makarov's usual bs

word count: 4.3k

note: a very sincere thank you to everyone who sent support and waited so long (a month) for this update :') not super proud of this ngl, i'll try to make the next chapter better and sooner lol

"something to confess?" price utters, brows furrowing as he stares you down with a confused look.

you wring your hands together, feeling the perspiration on your palms even through your gloves. "yes, it's about makarov—"

what's left of the building around you rumbles, pieces of the wreckage crumbling into smaller pieces and falling apart. price tears his gaze from you and glances around before patting your shoulder.

"whatever it is can wait. we need to get out before the rest of this collapses on top of us." he says while turning away and motioning for you to follow, graves and the shadows already starting to move ahead. you huff to yourself and jog after him, sticking close to his side until you reach the sizeable breach that he was leading you to.

you try in vain to talk again once the team is safely outside, but graves speaks up the second you go to open your mouth.

"we need to find where they moved that control center," he says, one of the shadows nearby already grabbing his radio – communications expert, you realize after a moment. "i'm wiling to bet it's still in the city, probably a smaller base."

price nods to graves from where he's standing next to you. "might be in an entirely new spot. tell the squads to keep their eyes peeled." he looks at the communications expert at the end of his warning, directing it at him, and gets a thumbs-up in reply.

"captain, i—" you start, before getting interrupted again.

"we'll discuss this after the mission, lieutenant." price mutters, giving you a tight-lipped smile. "i promise."

you bite your tongue and try to swallow down the lump in your throat, giving him a confirmatory nod of your own. the team moves on from the derelict building, with graves and his shadows splitting off after one of the strike teams radios about a suspicious spot. price and you end up assisting the bravo team with the second-largest base; for once, you're happy to see enemies in a location.

most teams clear out their sectors without much issue, securing canisters of chemical gas and weapon caches, but the supposed nerve center isn't anywhere to be found.

after hours of searching under the scorching sun, price and graves come to a mutual agreement: cut your losses and extract with what you did manage to get your hands on.

the flight back to base is quiet for the most part. everyone's too exhausted to fuss over anything, allowing you to sit in relative peace as you debate on what to say to price. the intel from makarov – the mole within your group – replays in your head over and over again, adding to your ever-growing level of stress. if anyone notices your leg bouncing practically the whole ride, they don't comment on it.

you're chasing the captain to his office the moment you touch down, pushing the heavy door shut behind you as his eyes fall on you.

"never seen you this frazzled, lieutenant." price remarks with a soft chuckle, moving to rest against the front of his desk with his arms loosely crossed over his chest. "what's bothering you?"

you blink at him, the words that you've been wanting to say suddenly dying on your tongue. you want to tell him, you really do, but what will he think of you? what if he takes you off the team for this? brands you as a traitor for working with the enemy?

"petra? y'okay?" price asks, leaning towards you.

you wave the question off and clear your throat. "yeah, i just, uh..." you trail off, before taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly, resigning yourself to your fate. "i've been getting intel from makarov."

shock briefly crosses price's face before it returns to a somewhat neutral expression – alarmingly neutral. you know the look, you've seen it a hundred times.

he's calculating his response.

"it started when i was captured," you stutter out, trying to explain. "it was just the information on shepherd at first, but then he showed up at my apartment after you sent me home— there's a mole in our team, whoever it is put a tracker on my phone, and now shepherd knows that we're onto him—"

"lieutenant." price interrupts, his voice as cold as the ice in his stare, shutting you up with little more than a startled whimper in reply.

he pauses, his jaw tight. you stare at him, wide-eyed and waiting for a furious response, but when he speaks again, his voice is soft.

"tell me everything you know. everything."

you draw in another breath and nod your head slowly. "one of the new recruits – someone who arrived recently – is working for shepherd, keeping tabs on us. his men are targeting the one-four-one; after the building collapse, one of them tried to sneak up on me. makarov found him before i did and took him out, but—"

"wait, he was there?" price all but growls, his arms falling back to his sides as his hands clench into fists against the tabletop.

you nod, again, shrinking under the barely-kept tension rolling off him in waves. "i didn't know he'd be there, it wasn't planned," you say, gaze falling to the floor. "but, he's not important right now. what is important is stopping shepherd before he uses the conflict in al-mazrah and urzikstan as an excuse to start a global war."

price doesn't reply at first, but you can see the gears turning in his head. evaluating, scheming, doing what he does best. a painful beat of silence passes between you, prompting you to speak again, uttering words that will earn you a medal, a grave, or life behind bars.

"makarov's given me intel before, captain. he has eyes in places that we don't, more resources than us, more freedom to act—"

"petra—" price cuts in, but you keep talking.

"—if you let me go undercover," you pause, staring into his eyes, searching for approval in his gaze. "i can get the information we need and act on it. shepherd, makarov... we can eliminate them in one fell swoop. i'll use makarov's resources, then take him down from within his own group. we can't do this clean. the gloves need to come off."

you step closer to him, lowering your voice to a quiet murmur that hardly reaches him. "you said it yourself: at the end of the day, somebody needs to make the enemy scared of the dark."

price clicks his tongue before shaking his head, an amused chuckle tumbling from his lips. "this is risky, you'd be inserting yourself right into his inner circle," he comments, tilting his head at you. "do you really think you'd be able to fool him?"

"he's already offered me protection," you say. "i'll figure out a way to gain his trust." you add, grimacing.

"normally i wouldn't approve something like this, but... for whatever reason, he seems to want you on his side. we might as well use that to our advantage." he concedes, earning an affirmative hum from you.

"i'll give him a response, then. you won't regret this, captain."

⋆⋆⋆

"i'm surprised you've called so quickly." you can hear the amusement in his voice after he answers the phone. "have you come to a decision?" makarov asks.

you let your eyes flutter closed and inhale deeply through your nose, hand clenching and unclenching at your side.

"i have." you reply after a long moment. "are you really wiling to offer me protection from shepherd?"

the grin on his face is evident despite you not seeing it. "i am. all you have to do is help me kill him."

you stifle a surprised laugh. "you're asking for a miracle like it's a small favor." you mutter, to which he sighs, heavy through the speaker.

"i'm confident in your abilities, lieutenant. i will arrange a meeting point and send you the coordinates and time. don't be late."

"punctual. i look forward to it." you respond, sealing your fate as you end the call.

once again, just as you return, you're departing again. you haven't stayed anywhere for longer than a day since escaping the prison, and yet, here you are, preparing to deliver yourself to the maw of the beast. it's almost poetic, just how quickly you've leapt back into danger after weeks of wanting nothing more than to get away from it.

true to his word, you receive a set of coordinates and a time from makarov shortly after the conversation. the only goodbyes you give are rushed words shared with the captain before you take off in an unmarked helicopter, leaving behind promises to explain the situation to those who matter and to get you home as soon as possible.

the location isn't anything of significance, that you're sure of as soon as the helicopter touches down. it's a road just outside of a quiet city, unassuming aside from the sleek black car that sits pulled over to the side. as soon as the gravel crunches under your boots, a man emerges from the vehicle to greet you in a gruff murmur of your callsign. you nod once, unmoving from your position, studying the man as he remains still several feet in front of you.

dressed in painfully normal clothing, a black shirt and a pair of dark weathered jeans, you almost think he's a civilian until your eyes find the patch hastily stuck onto his sleeve, the annoyingly familiar snake skull curving around his bicep as if to taunt anyone who sees it.

he's a mercenary, no doubt. probably someone makarov hired to handle the work his soldiers are above – like this.

as you follow the man to the car, settling in the backseat as he sits in the passenger and vaguely motions to the driver, you briefly wonder just how large makarov's forces are; how far does his influence reach?

you're also left curious about the lack of soldiers. a sign of trust, perhaps? you doubt it, but he's not a man whose decisions are easy to understand. maybe his goal is making you question every little thing that he does, forcing you to stay alert until you exhaust yourself and he has the chance to strike.

the car pulls back onto the road, leaving you to stare out the window as it travels away from the city. the forest surrounding you isn't terribly dense, but enough so that you have to squint to see anything through the passing trees. the winding road heading steadily up a mountain makes it no easier; you searched the coordinates during the flight and saw nothing of significance in the area...

where are they taking you?

the man mumbles something to the driver, catching your attention despite not hearing what he said. the response he receives is in russian and, again, words that you miss due to how quietly they're uttered. once the trees start to thin, however, you assume the sight ahead is what they were discussing.

a villa. a grand one, at that. it's not far from the city, you glance at your watch and time the drive as a half-hour, but the location is secluded, sitting on the cliffside overlooking the population below. it's gated, with armed guards staring the vehicle down as it approaches the entrance; like a stronghold, a private residence barred from any unwanted visitors or influence. it reminds you of las almas, of el sin nombre's villa.

the sun starts to set behind the villa as the car passes the gate and comes to a stop in front of it. the door next to you is suddenly pulled open, yanking your focus from the building as you meet the eye of the soldier, clad in a dark uniform and balaclava, staring you down while holding the door open.

wordlessly, you climb out and narrow your eyes at him, watching as he slams the door shut behind you. there's something familiar about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

as his eyes meet yours, it clicks.

"are you the guard from the prison?" you ask, his tired gaze bringing you back to your imprisonment. it's barely been a day since your escape, and yet that place – the injuries that left you in near-constant misery, the prying eyes watching you, the all-too-kind doctor, the other doctor, your enemy being the only person you could even begin to trust – it all feels so distant, despite being so recent.

the soldier huffs, scratching the side of his jaw through his mask. "i have been a guard in many prisons, you will have to be more specific."

you cross your arms tightly, his voice becoming more recognizable as he speaks. thick accent, perpetual disinterest worn like a badge, treating you with indifference despite not walking away.

"i hope the trip wasn't too difficult, lieutenant." a voice pulls you away, making you turn your head to the side as a "friendly" figure emerges from the set of doors nearby. makarov regards you with a small smile, something akin to pride and a more sincere emotion – relief? – glimmering in the dark recesses of his gaze.

you shrug, standing stiff when he stops in front of you. "i think the trip was the easy part." you mutter.

"you underestimate my sense of hospitality," he chuckles, taking in your fatigued state. "you've had a long day, i'll keep the tour brief tonight. i'm sure you have a lot of questions, hm?" his head tilts to the side for a second, emphasizing the question at the end of his remark.

his behavior is… unexpected, to say the least. you were expecting cold apathy like you experienced in captivity, but instead, makarov seems eager to have you here. you're sure it's all part of a plan that you're unaware of, bigger and more important than yourself.

"that's putting it lightly." you reply, walking two paces behind him when he motions for you to follow him inside. the masked solider follows you after a nod towards makarov, accepting a silent order from his commander.

the interior of the villa is equally as extravagant as the exterior— your breath catches in your throat as your footsteps echo against the tile floor, eyes flitting to the art dotting the walls and the furniture that you're certain costs more than your apartment.

"it's all a bit excessive, don't you think?" you murmur, sending a glance to the man in front of you.

makarov hums, hardly sparing his surroundings any attention. "i think it's fitting," he says, leading you to an elevator. "konni is not like the other crude, second-rate paramilitaries you've encountered, petra... we have a goal, organization, leadership—"

"—that leader being you?" you chuckle, stepping into the elevator and facing him. makarov waves the soldier off and presses one of the buttons on the wall, leaving you alone together when the doors slide shut.

"do you doubt me?" he asks, brows furrowing. "need i remind you who is shouldering the burden of protecting you?" he adds, leaning closer as his voice lowers just slightly. you recognize the look, the intent behind the way he moves closer, forcing you to take a step back to create some distance.

"let's get one thing straight," you mutter, trying to keep your tone steady despite your back meeting the wall. "i don't need protection because you're any better than me. you just give me the freedom i need to move against shepherd without putting my squad at risk."

you pause, wetting your lips, before opening your mouth to continue. any words you planned to say leave you in a short breath as you're literally cornered in the small space, though, blinking at the man in front of you. makarov holds your gaze, amusement clearly written on his expression as his arm lifts, caging you in with a tight fist on the wall next to your head.

"you need me, petra. that is what matters." he leans closer still, shifting to rest his forearm against the wall instead, his lips twitching up in a crooked smile. you try to avert your eyes, to stare at the wall past him, but his other hand comes up to stop you with a firm grip on the sides of your jaw, keeping your head still. "i strongly suggest you find it in yourself to cooperate instead of fighting me. this is a very unique opportunity for us to help each other."

"you..." a frustrated sound escapes from you, only serving to encourage him to tighten his hold, leather-clad fingertips digging into your skin. you need to gain his trust if the plan you discussed with price has any chance of succeeding. we get dirty, world stays clean. killing shepherd is the mission; makarov comes later. play your cards right and you can take out them both.

"fine... i guess i owe you civility, at the very least." you concede, one of your hands shooting up to grab his wrist. "just get your hands off me." you grumble with a pointed glare.

makarov's hand retracts before the complaint even fully leaves your lips. "clever girl. you've made the right choice." he murmurs.

he moves away as the elevator reaches the floor and the door slides open again, immediately revealing a corridor dotted with soldiers – some conversing, some standing guard, others approaching the elevator as makarov steps out with you in tow.

"we'll have time for a proper tour later. in the meantime, if you need help navigating the grounds, any of my men will be happy to assist." he says, marching ahead.

"don't have any more room in your busy schedule for me?" you utter, trailing behind him.

he rounds a corner and keeps walking. "not at the moment, unfortunately." you arrive at a door, where he turns to you once more. "i have matters that require my attention, otherwise i would stay longer. i've arranged a place for you to sleep. i suggest you rest tonight. once we have the general's location, you will be needed."

you nod, admittedly taken aback. "i'll... do that, then. thank you." you stutter out.

"don't mention it." he says, already backing away from you and heading back down the hallway. you try not to stare as he disappears from your sight, intentionally fixing your attention on the door he led you to.

so eccentric, you think.

⋆⋆⋆

you let out a contented sigh as you pull your shirt down over your head, standing in the middle of the sizeable bedroom after your shower. a glance out the window tells you what time it is before you even check— the sun set over the horizon about an hour ago.

when you pick your phone up off the nightstand, there's a message from price waiting for you.

status report? 19:05 pm

you look to the door, debating on a response.

all settled in. nothing significant to report yet. 19:15 pm

good. keep your guard up. 19:15 pm

laswell got into contact with alex earlier. potential base in verdansk. 19:16 pm

need me to handle it? 19:16 pm

no. focus on makarov for now. we'll take care of it. 19:17 pm

copy. good luck. 19:17 pm

save some luck for yourself. stay sharp. 19:18 pm

you shove your phone into your pocket and send the door another look, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. makarov said he would be busy, but... there's something telling you to seek him out, some horrible feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach. you have a lot of questions and very few answers, things weighing on your mind that, to your chagrin, only he can ease.

"fucking fantastic," you say to the empty room, shaking off the feeling and heading out into the corridor. after getting directions from a handful of soldiers and a short elevator ride, you find yourself up on the penthouse floor, standing in front of the set of doors leading to his personal office.

you knock before you have the chance to psyche yourself out, three short taps in quick succession, your shoulders rigid until you hear an "enter" from the other side.

when you step in, letting the door softly click shut behind you, makarov lifts his head from the papers on the desk in front of him. you don't move immediately, standing with your back pressed against the smooth wood, your eyes flitting around the neatly-kept space before meeting his.

before you can say anything, he lifts a hand to stop you, bringing your attention to the phone next to his ear.

"i don't care about the weather, alexi," he mutters into the speaker, his focus never shifting from you. "you are leading a group of soldiers, not children, they can handle a storm. communicate the old-fashioned way if you're so worried about signal issues." he continues.

you awkwardly linger in your spot, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. his jaw tenses as his gaze narrows, and for a moment, a small part of you worries that the ire might be directed at you for intruding at an inconvenient time.

"i can come back," you whisper, hand already reaching for the knob behind you.

"stay." he replies, making you freeze. "no, not you, сволочь— just deliver the gas according to the schedule. i won't accept anything later than that." he grumbles into the speaker before hanging up the call and dropping his phone onto the papers, sighing heavily and moving to rub the fatigue from his eyes.

gas? as in, the chemical gas you saw in al-mazrah?

"pleasant conversation?" you tease, earning a pointed glare.

he stands from his chair with a soft groan. "what are you here for?"

you step further into the room, watching as he circles around the desk to meet you in the middle. "not sure. care to educate me on the gas you were talking about, though?" you smile, folding your hands in front of yourself.

makarov eyes you down, scrutinizing you, but gives in after a brief staring contest that you arguably win.

"after we succeed in urzikstan and the kremlin realizes what must be done, we will move on to their allies." he begins, speaking slowly. "my soldiers are making the preparations as we speak, planting it within each target nation."

as he continues, that prior feeling returns tenfold, and you mutter, "the gas used in al-mazrah and vondel?"

he nods, unchanging, even as your expression freely gives away the unease and anger steadily building under your skin. "exactly that. this is just the first step."

there's an emotion on his face, something haunting that makes your chest tighten. total apathy, as if the consequences of his actions mean nothing to him. they don't, your reasonable side is well aware of that, but the sheer wrongness of the situation nags at you, pushing you to try to prevent it in whatever ways you can.

"okay, i know you don’t care about innocent lives being lost," you start, crossing your arms over your chest. "but, i do. i'm not going to stand by and watch you destroy the world over some... bullshit hunt for glory! if you use that gas, i'm backing out." you assert. he steps back from you, creating a comfortable distance.

"i thought you were here for a reason, petra. unless, you've changed your mind?" makarov asks with a curious lilt, turning to face away from you.

your arms drop to your sides as your hands clench into fists. "we both know how deadly that gas is – it can kill millions. i'd rather take my chances with the government than assist you with that."

makarov hums in acknowledgement, standing in front of his desk now, and you watch as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey and empty tumbler sitting near the edge.

"are you seriously pouring yourself a drink right now?" you pause your rant, positively fuming while he pours the liquid into the glass. is this all some kind of fucking joke to him?

"i find it easier to listen when i have a drink," makarov replies. he produces a second glass and fills it up, before turning back to you. "but, you do raise a fair point, lieutenant. these plans can be delayed a little while longer." he says, holding it out to you in offering.

you take the glass slowly, confused. "just... like that? so easy?" you hesitate, distrustful— for good reason, too.

the amber liquid swirls in makarov's glass when he moves his hand, dismissing your concerns. "there are still steps between now and then. having you as an ally is far more important in the present."

"wh... just like that?" you parrot, gawking at him when he hands you his glass and walks past you, heading to the door. you spin on your heel and stare at the back of his head as he twists the knob and swings the door open.

he barely acknowledges you when he waves over his shoulder, again, dismissing it. "don't spend too much time on it. focus on the situation in the present."

as he disappears into the corridor, leaving the door to the very private room wide open behind him, you're completely dumbfounded. you came to him for answers; instead of getting that, all you have are more questions.

focus on the situation in the present.

it just sounds like a long-winded way of saying, "direct your anger at anyone but me."

from a tactical standpoint, it's hard to disagree. you're allies with this man, even if it is temporary. no matter how harsh his methods and unreasonable his beliefs, you'll have to learn to tolerate it. your eyes fall to the untouched glasses in your hands, then to the desk behind you, and finally back to the door.

"what the hell have i gotten myself into?"

translations:

сволочь (svoloch) - bastard

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow, @johfaam0, @cumbermovels, @chxe-zdechnac, @imagineswritersblog, @emorgz33, @sparda-ly, @ponyboys-sunsets, @frazie99, @chensipstea, @thriving-n-jiving, @preciouslittlecreature, @infinitewhore, @jade-jax, @caramlizedtomatoes, @ohworm-writes

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <3)

[milkywayhou]

YOU'VE GOT EMAIL (König X OC: Medical Student!Snow) PART I

Summary: When the Colonel from some Private Military Corporation group accidentally send KorTac's secret file via email to a random civilian girl.

or

König send wrong email to a wrong person

TWs: A lot curse words (from Snow), both of them being passive-aggressive, slow burn (kinda). I just wrote this for fun

Words Count: 3k (That's a lot for an email lol)

--

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

02/28/23 at 03:42 pm

Subject: KorTac Tactical Operations File E12345 Classification: Top Secret

Lieutenant,

Apologies for the inappropriate transmission. As head of KorTac Special Forces, securing sensitive documents is of utmost priority. Please confirm deletion of the attached file and we’ll consider the matter closed.

While I understand your confusion receiving such a file unsolicited, KorTac business must remain confidential. I trust a responsible professional such as yourself understands the necessity of discretion in such matters. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if any other issues arise.

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

--

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

02/28/23 at 07:12 pm

Subject: RE: Creepy email

Excuse me,

I have no idea what you’re talking about. All I know is I got some weird files from “KorTac Tactical” that I definitely did NOT ask for. Do you know how scary it is to get secret military documents out of nowhere? I thought it was one of my friends pranking me at first.

Instead of lecturing me about deleting things, maybe you should be more careful who you send your “top secret” info to. I’m just trying to study neurology over here, not get dragged into some clandestine Special Forces stuff.

Lighten up a little, yeah? It was an honest mistake I’m sure. No harm done.

Snow

--

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

02/28/23 at 08:02 pm

Subject: RE: RE: Creepy email

Ms. Farron,

I can assure you there was no “creepy email” or files sent from this office. As Commander of one of the world’s premier private military factions, securing classified intel is of utmost priority. If some file was erroneously transmitted to your address in error, it did not originate from my users.

While I understand the desire to shrug off mistakenly received sensitive documents, national security does not warrant such lackadaisical treatment. If you have relevant data in your possession, basic courtesy requires replying to the original correspondent – in this case, myself – to ascertain the source of error.

Do let me know if you retrieve any files in question. And in future, a bit more discretion and less indignation may serve you well when inadvertently encountering restricted information networks. Consider this a learning experience.

Regards,

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

--

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

02/28/23 at 08:22 pm

Subject: RE: RE: RE: Creepy email

Hi Colonel Tightpants,

Thank you for the condescending lecture. As I’ve said THREE times now, I never got any files from you or KorTac or wherever before. All I know is I woke up to an ominous email saying “Top Secret KorTac files” or something. Pretty annoying/alarming for a simple student!

And excuse me for not dropping everything to thoroughly investigate a mistake that wasn’t even mine. Some of us have actual classes to study for, not play secret agent all day.

If you’re so worried about security breaches, maybe focus on your end instead of harassing innocent people via multiple snobby emails. I’ve got better things to do than argue in circles with Mr. High-and-Mighty.

Please remove me from your contact list going forward. And do try to lighten up a little!

Regards,

Snow

P.S. The file is attached. I called it “Creepy Email From Creepy Colonel” for your convenience. Have fun decrypting your own mystery ;)

--

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

02/28/23 at 09:42 pm

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: Creepy email

Ms. Farron,

I will not be spoken to in such a disrespectful and unprofessional manner. While your frustrations are understandable, maintaining proper decorum and respect for sensitive operational matters is not an optional courtesy – it is imperative.

You’re accusations of “harassment” are as unfounded as they are insulting. Do not mistake my patience and courtesy thus far for weakness. Should any real documents surface from my network in error, I expect their immediate return without petulant games or sass.

As a private military organization operating across the globe, security is no light concern for this command. If unable to grasp even the basic responsibility of confirming received documents' origins for the sake of national safety, perhaps the world of intelligence is beyond your current realm of comprehension.

Consider this your final warning. Any further unsubstantiated claims or uncooperative behavior will be met with the full weight of legal action and your academic institution will be notified accordingly. Is that absolutely clear, Ms. Farron?

Reply confirming so or cease contact immediately. I will not tolerate insubordination, especially from an civilian amateur dabbling where she has no clearance. Maintain discretion as instructed or suffer consequences – the choice is yours.

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

--

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

03/01/23 at 09:29 am

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Creepy Email

Colonel High-Horse,

Spare me your thinly veiled threats. If you’re so sure I have hide some Top Secret Files™, by all means come search my dorm room yourself since you clearly don’t believe a word I say. Oh wait, you can’t – because there’s NOTHING.

Maybe take a break from power tripping over email and try listening to the person who’s actually involved for once. Not my fault if your big bad security systems have holes. But I guess acknowledging mistakes isn’t very military, is it?

You wanna see uncooperative and petulant? Keep harassing me and I’ll forward our whole conversation to the national news. Something tells me they’d love to hear how easily “the world’s premier private military” loses confidential files.

So for the last time – I did NOT receive ANY files from you or KorTac aside the one you accidentally send. If you’re incapable of comprehending that, then you’re dumber than you look. Consider THIS your final warning to lay off before I take action, Colonel Tightass.

Snow

Formerly Civilian, Currently Pissed Off

--

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

03/01/23 at 08:55 am

Subject: Enough

Ms. Farron,

Your insubordination has crossed several lines. While I sought to resolve this discreetly, you force my hand with threats and insults. Know that I do not respond kindly to such provocation.

If you insist upon escalating this beyond reason, so be it. However, tread carefully – you are ignorant of forces beyond your control. Dare to sully KorTac’s name to fuel your petulance, and all your academic and personal records will undergo… thorough review.

Accidents happen, as you claim. But any damage to our operations will not be taken lightly, no matter your perceived innocence. Heed my words well, girl – you do not wish to become an enemy of this command.

Consider this last attempt at civil discourse. Cease contact and let this die, or suffer consequences you cannot imagine. The choice, as before, remains yours.

I expect no further correspondence. You are now on formal notice – proceed at your own peril.

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

--

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

03/01/23 at 11:38 pm

Subject: Go to Hell

You want a fight, you’ll get one you pompous prick. Your “command” and threats mean nothing to me.

If anything happens to my academic career or personal life, the world will know exactly who’s responsible. I don’t care how elite you think you are.

Bring whatever you’ve got – I’m not afraid of some borderline psychotic and his glorified gun club. You want a target? Consider it painted on your back from now on.

Have fun trying to intimidate me, ASSHOLE. You just made the worst enemy of your pathetic life.

Goodbye forever. Don’t bother responding – you’re officially dead to me.

Snow Farron

Future Doctor, Current Pain in Your Ass

--

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

03/02/23 at 01:29 am

Subject: So Be It

Foolish girl. You have no concept of the forces you now contend with. Consider carefully the hole you’ve dug, for there will be no mercy if you proceed.

However, my integrity will not permit baseless threats against civilians. If you agree to cease hostilities and let this dissolve quietly, no further action will be taken. Your record and life will remain untouched.

The choice is simple – walk away unscathed, or persist in this idiocy and face consequences beyond imagination. Think carefully on your next move, little one. Tread no further, and this can end.

You have one hour for a sensible reply before measures are taken. Make them count.

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

--

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

03/03/23 at 02:04 am

Subject: Bite Me

Yeah, I’m real scared of your “forces” and “consequences beyond imagination.” Give me a break.

You think I’m going to bow down to your threats just because you’re some big shot Colonel? Please. I’ve dealt with way scarier than pompous bully babies like you.

So do your worst, tough guy. Come at me with everything you’ve got. I promise it still won’t be enough to make me back down from a pissant fraud like you.

Your “hour” can go fuck itself. You want to end this? Then stay the hell away from me and leave me alone forever. Otherwise this isn’t over by a long shot.

Tick tock, pal. Your time is running out and so is your chance to slink away with your tail between your legs. Better figure out your next move fast!

Not holding my breath for anything “sensible” though. Later, loser!

Snow “Untouchable” Farron

--

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

03/05/23 at 11:09 pm

Subject: wassup bitchhhhh

Hey asshooooole its ur girl Snow again!! Had a few dranks w/ friends to forget ur stupid email but the pain remainsss lolll

Jus wanted to let u kno ur still a total dickhead no matter how drunk I get. Probly shouldn’t be emailing u since last time but fuck it YOLO right???

Anyway ur threats meant nothing I had a blast tonight. Try n stop me next time I feel like partying fuck face!!! No1 messes w snow n gets away with it

Also saw some guy who looked like u at the bar what a coincidink lol. Hope he feels as stupid as u in the morn ;))

Hope ur having a shit night missing out on the fun. Don’t reply I prob wont even remember this! Byeeeeeee loser stay mad <33333

Xoxo drunk snow

--

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

03/06/23 at 01:50 am

Subject: RE: wassup bitchhhhh

Well well, what have we here. It seems our intrepid Dr. Farron has landed herself in an inebriated state this night.

Can’t say I blame you for seeking alcohol’s comfort after our little disagreement. Dealing with my “stupid emails” and “threats” must have been terribly traumatic. You have my deepest sympathies, truly.

While unwise to conduct militarized business intoxicated, I’ll admit your drunken ramblings provided some mild amusement. The imagery of you partying it up solely to spite me was rather quaint. Do try to stay safe in your revelries, dear – would hate for some unfortunate accident.

As for your daring insinuation about encountering my likeness at a bar, I can assure you my nights are occupied with matters far more pressing than drinking. But I appreciate the laugh, strange as it came from such a belligerent tongue.

Enjoy your hangover, Snow. And sleep well – who knows what mischief tomorrow may bring.

Regards,

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

P.S. Do refrain from over-indulging too often. Wouldn’t want those fine medical skills to dull prematurely, now would we?

--

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

03/06/23 at 05:28 am

Subject: RE: RE: wassup bitchhhhh

Yeah yeah, laugh it up. We all do dumb shit when we’re drunk occasionally. At least I have an excuse, unlike you and your constant stick up the ass personality.

That being said, I suppose I owe you an apology for that ridiculous email last night. Not my finest moment, to say the least. But you seem to bring out the worst in me, so.

Consider us even for any “amusement” you got at my expense. I’m suffering enough with this hangover from hell as it is.

Just so we’re clear though – I’m not some damsel for you to patronize or imply threats towards. Keep your smug sarcasm, I don’t need it. We’re done here, got it?

Good. Now fuck off and leave me alone to die in peace, Dickhead von Buzzkill. And next time – lay off the sauce OR lay off me. Your choice, Colonel

Snow “Moderately Sober But Still Pissed” Farron

--

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

03/06/23 at 09:33 am

Subject: RE: RE: RE: wassup bitchhhhh

Alright Colonel Buzzkill, I’ll admit my constant insults aren’t getting us anywhere. As much as I hate to inflate that already massive ego of yours, maybe there was a tiny little misunderstanding somewhere along the way.

Med school has been kicking my ass lately and I’ve been on edge. Between the mounting student loans, endless assignments, and stressful exams, I’m about one Red Bull away from a full breakdown. Not that you probably care about such peasant problems.

Anyways, my point is – I may have overreacted a bit to this whole email mixup. Even if it WAS totally not my fault *eyes emoji*. Can’t a girl blow off some steam without the world’s most uptight Colonel threatening her into an early grave?

Lay off with the intimidation tactics already. I said I was sorry for getting drunk and belligerent, more or less. What more do you want, my first born child in sacrifice?

Just, try to lighten up a little if we have to keep interacting for god knows what reason. I’m too exhausted to keep fighting a war on 20 different fronts. Truce?

Overworked and Underpaid,

Snow

--

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

03/06/23 at 09:01 pm

Subject: RE: RE: RE: RE: wassup bitchhhhh

Oh? So the fledgling doctor deigns to admit a modicum of culpability at last. How gracious of her highness to acknowledge her part in this debacle, no matter how begrudgingly.

Though I’ll not deny deriving a certain satisfaction from seeing you squirm, that was never my aim. As Commander of KorTac, security of sensitive data is no laughing matter – a concept you seemed unwilling or unable to grasp at the time.

However, as one engaged in higher pursuits of intellectual rigor and public service, I can understand the pressures that come with such territory. Medical education is a noble yet arduous path, as I’m sure even your addled mind comprehends on occasion.

Very well, Ms. Farron – consider this matter put to rest. A temporary ceasefire it is, for the sake of future global stability if nothing else. But tread not again where you have been warned, or I shall not be so gracious next transgression.

Do try to mind your health and studies in lieu of drunken revelry. Wouldn’t want to lose such a pugnacious spirit to frivolity or misfortune. Now, do run along – no doubt some looming assignment awaits its dissection.

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

--

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

03/07/23 at 02:19 am

Subject: Aw, you DO care!

Aww, is that actually concern I detect underneath all the big important Colonel bluster? I’m touched, really. Who knew you had a soft spot for lowly students like me.

Admit it – you just can’t stand the thought of little ol’ me disappearing in some “frivolous misfortune.” You’d miss having me around to aggravate that permanent stick up your butt!

But don’t worry, it’ll take more than a silly paper or two to take me out of commission. Unlike some people, I actually know how to unwind without threatening international incidents *cough cough*.

All jokes aside though, truce accepted on my end too. Maybe now we can move past wanting to strangle each other every time we’re in the same email chain. Small victories, right?

Anyways, gotta get back to the grind. Thanks for not making me regret extending the olive branch…this time. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!

Your Favorite Almost-Doctor,

Snow

--

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

03/07/23 at 08:05 am

Subject: RE: Aw, you DO care!

Cease this incessant jesting at once, fraulein. I neither “care” for you as anything more than a potential security concern, nor possess any jovial qualities to “aggravate.”

A commander's duties require maintaining surveillance of volatile elements wherever they arise. You have thus far proven yourself quite the unpredictable variable, so forgive my reluctance to take eyes fully off the matter.

As for your studies, consider this the only encouragement they shall receive from me. Master your craft with distinction, then mayhaps our paths need not cross again in the future. Though I admit the thought of you disappearing into obscurity does bring its own satisfactions to ponder.

Now then, if you’re quite finished wasting both our time with your misguided attempts at levity, some of us have real work to which attending. Do try and keep yourself from causing further disruptions, medic. You may resume your “grind” in peace.

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

--

From: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

To: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

03/07/23 at 12:56 pm

Subject: RE: RE: Aw, you DO care!

Always so grumpy, Colonel Grumpy Pants! Lighten up a little, will ya? Not all of us can be stoic hard asses all the time.

Speaking of asses, mine is practically dragging on the floor from exhaustion. Between classes, labs, studying, and my various part-time jobs, I’m surprised I have any brain cells left at all.

Don’t even get me started on these student loans. At this rate, I’ll be paying them off until I’m 90. Not that you military bigwigs have to worry about pesky things like money, I’m sure. Must be nice.

You know, maybe I should just forget this whole doctor thing and become a sugar baby instead. At least then I could afford to eat once in a while AND maybe some lucky rich person would be willing to pay off my debts. What do you think – interested in an investment opportunity? I promise I come with lots of free sass and jokes at your expense!

Kidding of course…or am I? You’ll never know!

Your favorite broke and tired med student,

Snow

--

From: Colonel_König@KorTac.mil

To: SnowFarron93@medschool.edu

03/07/23 at 03:37 pm

Subject: RE: RE: RE: Aw, you DO care!

One of these days that improperly-filtered mouth of yours will find its owner in hot water she can’t jest her way out of, medic. I’d advise reigning in these fanciful sugar baby musings before they land you in a far less pleasant situation.

However, your frustration with the systemic burdens of medical education is…understandable. The modern model leaves much to be desired in terms of sustainability for both student and society. A dysfunction perpetuated by greed and shortsightedness at the highest levels, as with so many ills in this world.

As for offers of “investment,” I’ve no surplus funds to patronize frivolities. Nor the patience to entertain speculative propositions from volatile girls who can’t keep themselves from inviting more trouble than they bargain for. Focus that restless energy on your studies as discussed, and all should proceed smoothly.

Now then, if there are no further inanities requiring response, I’ve a command to oversee. Best of luck with exams and endeavors, Farron. Dismissed.

Colonel König

KorTac Commanding Officer

I will write the next part later when I have time <3

Also comment love and reblogged are very appreciated! 💖

[tacticaldiary]

Sacrifices

Pairing: John Price x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

They’re surrounded and she’s the only person who can pull off the stunt required for the extractions team to do their magic. Defying her Captain’s orders was well worth the punishment if that meant said Captain and her teammates left this hellhole alive. Even if there was the possibility that that would be without her. 

Masterlist

“The evac team’s swarmed, can’t land until the roof is secure!” Gaz yells out while barricading the door the three of them burst through for cover. Price grits his teeth, cursing. 

Gunshots ping in the distance. This was supposed to be a simple mission. Capture the leader of an enemy organisation and transport him back to base for questioning. 

The only issue was the intel they’d received had been compromised from the inside, an ambush waiting for them instead of their target. Gaz, Price, and her were the three people from the Task Force dispatched, the operation needed to be done without raising any alarms, after all. A smaller unit made sense. 

Until it didn’t. The ambush had been brutal. 

Gaz took a shot to the leg and Price, two bullets to the shoulder to his firing arm. She was the only one unharmed. The room seems to be for some kind of storage. Metal racks line the walls, a single light illuminating the space dimly. 

“The roof is their primary focus, they know that’s where they’ll try to extract us from.” Price says, leaning against the wall. He does not flinch, does not wince or show any signs of discomfort from his wound aside from the sweat on his forehead and the pale complexion of his skin. Gaz isn’t doing much better, lowering himself down to get his bearing and inspect his leg. 

“Our options are stay here until we’re found, or take a room full of uninjured, armed forces all at once.” Gaz grits out, rolling up his pant leg. 

She’d been silent this entire time, thinking about their next course of action. The other two were injured. They’d be expecting them to strike as soon as possible, knowing they were desperate to escape. 

The other two wouldn’t be any good standing their ground. Gaz couldn’t walk, and Price wouldn’t be able to shoot accurately. This was her family. Her teammates, yes, but she loved Gaz like an annoying little brother, and Price...

Well, he may be her Captain, but at the end of the day, he’s also her husband.

The decision comes without any hesitation. Grabbing her rifle, she checks her ammo and reloads, the clinking of the bullets catching the attention of the other two. She checks her knives, feeling their gazes on her, and when she finally straightens up and catches Price’s narrowed gaze, she knows he’s figured out her plan of action. 

“You’re not to act without orders, sergeant.” He says, low and authoritative. It’s his Captain voice, the one she and the others obey without question on the field. 

This is the first time she’s chosen to disobey it. 

“We don’t have a choice.” She says, slinging her pistol into its holster. “I’m the only one not out of commission. I can clear the roof, buy you some time at least.”

Gaz goes to interrupt but her husband beats her to it. 

“Stand down, Sergeant.” He orders, knuckles white around the shelf he’s gripping.

“Negative, Captain.” She responds calmly. 

“I’m giving you a direct order-”

“Yes.” She cuts him off. “I’ll get the evac team in, they’ll send backup.” 

“Sergeant-!“ There’s a hint of something other than his stoic command when she approaches the door, something akin to alarm and worry. Even Gaz snaps his head to look at the Captain. 

“Price. Gaz.” She nods to each of them in turn, then gives Price one last look. Her rough, professional exterior cracks for a moment, the sad but determined smile she offers him might be the last one he sees, and the thought makes his heart plummet hard. “I’m glad to have worked with you.” She turns to John. “Love you.” 

He abandons her title and calls out her name angrily instead, pushing off the wall to march towards her. She knows he’s going to grab her, force her to stay and think of something else if he caught her. Hell, he might even decide to go out there instead of her and that was simply unacceptable. She slips out the door, slams it shut and bolts it closed from the outside, trapping them in. 

Two pairs of arms pound on the door, two muffled voices call out her name, one frantic, the other fearful and angry.

She leaves them behind, extracting a frag grenade from her belt. Stealth was one of her specialties, and even more so now that she’s working alone. Slinking back, keeping to the shadows, she finds her way to the staircase leading to the roof. Cracking open the door, she peers out to assess the situation. 

Counting 15 men, armed and alert, she takes a deep breath, pulls the pin out of the grenade, throwing it out. 

The moment it explodes, she throws open the door, takes three men out, and dives for cover behind a stack of sandbags. Men bark out shouts and orders, bullets rain around her. Another grenade sails over the bags, taking out a handful of them.

Hauling herself over the bags, she shoots down a few more of them, lunging to change covers. 

A sharp pain stings straight through her forearm. 

Another one through her right calf. 

Biting back a cry, she situates herself behind the second stack of sandbags. Less than half the men left. She could do it. She wasn’t doing this for herself. She was doing this for Gaz.

She was doing this for Price. For her husband. 

The person who loved staying in bed with her on their off days, the man that treated her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Price was someone she would never find again, and she was grateful for every moment they spent together. In bed lazy, taking a walk outside, lounging around at the beach, cuddling on the couch. Every moment with him was special, and she would not, she could not let him die like this. 

Trapped in a fucking setup. 

Summoning up the will, she throws her last grenade and opens fire, dropping man after man. Bullets scrape across her skin but she barely feels them. 

She aims for the last man, the roof bloodied with corpses when he throws down a smokescreen. Eyes watering, she coughs, moving to get out of the cloud, when she feels an arm lock around her neck. 

The man snarls, grabbing her in a headlock and squeezing. She chokes, scratches at his arms but his grip is relentless. Dark spots dot her vision, and she can feel her thoughts slip away. 

‘Clear your head’ John would have told her. ‘No situation is inescapable, you just need to figure out the routes to escape.’

Escape. Get the evac team in. She was so close. 

She reaches down and grabs at her legs until her hand curls around the last knife she has tucked away. Yanking it out, she jams it into the man’s arm and shoves him away, stumbling to increase the distance between them.

Cursing, the soldier points his gun at her with a sneer, hatred clear on his face. Unarmed, she looks for a weapon; her gun had been dropped in the struggle. 

There’s a beat of silence where neither of them move, then the soldier bark out a laugh and pressed the trigger. 

The bang makes her flinch as she ducks, preparing for the incoming second shot that would take her out. 

Nothing comes. 

Nothing but the thump of a body and arms pulling her up to her feet with an exclamation of her name. She starts to put up a fight, but then realises that the hands that hold her do not hurt, but are familiar and warm. 

“I’ve got you.” A smooth, gravelly voice. “Easy does it.” 

“John?” She gasps out. Over his shoulder, Gaz limps in on the scene, declaring it clear. A hand pressed to his ear, contacting the evac team via comms.

Now that the adrenaline starts to ebb away, she feels the full effects of her decision hitting her hard. She’s bleeding from a lot of places. 

Her cheek, her calf, her forearm, the side of her stomach. Scraped and bruised, still gasping for oxygen from being choked. God, she just knows there are going to be bruises around her throat tomorrow by how sore it is. 

Her knees buckle, but Price catches her, lowering them both to the ground. “I’ve got you, love.” He mutters, laying her down and looking her head to toe to chart her injuries. “Bloody hell.” He curses at her state. “What the hell were you thinking? Took us ages to break outta that goddamn room.” He snaps, glaring down at her. Among the anger, she can see worry and panic swimming in those eyes of his. 

“Needed to get the roof clear.” She breathes out, clutching onto his wrist. “Did it, didn’t I?” A weak laugh that Price does not find amusing at all. 

“We need a medic!” He yells over his shoulder to Gaz, who nods and relays the information over. “We’re talking about your actions later.” He informs her firmly, eyebrows drawn tightly together. “But you’re alright for now. You’re gonna be fine, you hear me?”

All she can bare to do is nod, squeezing her eyes shut, her entire body hurts and-

“Shit, ouch.” She hisses through her teeth, eyes flying open. “Did you just pinch me?” She says incredulously.

“I need you to stay awake, love.” Price says firmly. “Eyes on me, yeah? Keep talking. Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

“Is that an order, Captain?” She tries a weak smile. 

“It’s one you’ll listen to, that’s for fucking sure.” His grumble pulls out a small laugh from her. She doesn’t have to wait long, it seems because the humming noise of the chopper fills the air soon enough, the evac team lands safely on the roof. A swarm of people rushes out of the chopper towards them. 

The three of them are loaded onto the helicopter, medics on them, shouting to each other and measuring out syringes of medicine. 

Price looks at her the entire time, watching her as if she might disappear again. She knows she’ll get a talking to when they land, a harder one from her Captain, and a more worried one from her husband, but she can’t bring herself to care. 

They were all alive. 

Price could berate her as much as possible, she’d never regret saving their lives, even if it had meant trading her own. 

Requests Are Open!

(17/06/2023)

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

One of the issues that caused the delay in the hostage release yesterday was Hamas' violation of the agreement. Israel demanded that families will be released together, mothers with their kids, Hamas agreed. Yesterday, on just the second day of implementing the accord, Hamas violated this term, when the list only included a 13 years old girl named Hilla Rotem, but not her 54 years old mom, Ra'aya. This is tragic in itself, but it was compounded by the fact that Hilla is the only daughter of a single mom. Think about what it means to her, that she's being released, but not the only immediate family she has in the world. Israel insisted that Hamas must honor the agreement, but Hamas said the only way they'd stick to the agreement of not separating Hilla Rotem from her mom, is if the girl wouldn't be released. But seeing as the kids are considered the most vulnerable, Israel relented and accepted Hilla being released without her mom. Why is Hamas so insistent on separating the two, we can only guess.

So, for those keeping score, Hamas violated the agreement twice (potentially three time), first with firing rockets 15 minutes after the fighting was supposed to stop, then forcing families apart. The third issue is that Hamas promised the Red Cross would be allowed to meet the hostages remaining in captivity, but so far, that hasn't happened. If it stays that way, that's another violation. We're all waiting to see what will happen today, since on both previous days, the hostages release was delayed.

On its part, Hamas claimed Israel was the one breaking the agreement, even though there was independent confirmation that Israel met its obligations, such as the number of aid trucks allowed into Gaza as part of the accord. Today, the aid trucks went in even earlier, and with video documentation, so that Hamas would not be able to use this as an excuse again. Another thing that Hamas claims is that Israel is supposed to release prisoners based on how long they've been in jail, but Israel said it was not a part of the signed agreement. Hamas gave a list of 14 hostages to be released, eventually it released 13 Israelis kidnapped. The agreement said Israel is to release 3 convicted terrorist per each release hostage, so Israel was set to release 42 prisoners. When it turned out that Hamas is only releaseing 13 people, Israel still released all 42 people who were already went through the process of release. No official explanation was offered, but my guess is to prevent any riots from those three who would not be released, and their families outside.

The other day, a ship flying Malta's flag was attacked by an armed suicide drone in the Indian ocean. It turns out that while being operated by another company, one of the owners of the ship is an Israeli businessman. To target the ship for its ownership rather than operators, implies the intel probably came from Iran. The ship was damaged in the attack, a fire broke out, but no one was hurt. There's an initial report of another ship, supposedly under Israeli ownership, that was kidnapped today near Yemen. If true, this is the third ship targeted for supposedly being Israeli.

A video was circulated the other day, which I will not be sharing, but you can see it here. It shows two Palestinians from Jenin, shot to death for supposedly collaborating with Israel, and then their bodies were hung, a crowd gathered and filmed this, then the bodies were taken down, dragged along the streets, abused, and eventually they were dumped in a garbage site. Are they really informants for Israel? I recently watched a documentary about Yahya Sinwar, Hamas' current leader in Gaza, who was imprisoned by Israel up until 2011. But it wasn't for killing Israelis, it was for murdering Palestinians for supposedly collaborating. An Israeli internal security official said that out of the dozens upon dozens of Palestinians that Sinwar killed with his own hands, maybe 2 or 3 were actual informants. Sinwar murdered these people to make a reputation for himself (he was nicknamed "The Butcher of Khan Younes"), and for an array of other, more personal reasons. So... I'd say most odds are these people had nothing to do with Israel, too.

As antisemitism is on the rise, and too many are adopting a narrative that justified or dismissed Hamas' crimes, the Prime Minister of Ireland did the sameon Twitter. He got community notes correcting his erasure of an Irish-Israeli 9 years old girl's kidnapping.

Just a reminder that when one terrorist in Dublin stabbed five people, three kids included, there were massive riots, with lots of public infrastructure burned down, and rioters arrested. What would Ireland do if they would have been subjected to a terrorist attack equivalent to the one Israel suffered on Oct 7?

The really tall guy is an Israeli officer whose name can't be published, only his initial Y.

He finished a specific military role two months before Hamas' massacre. On the day of Oct 7, he realized that the guy who replaced him, who lives further to the north, would not be able to make it to the fighting zone in time, so Y jumped into his car and drove there, without a weapon or a bulletproof vest. On the way, terrorists ambushed his car, and shot him in the stomach. Realizing he's beginning to pass out, he stopped his car at the side of the road. He woke up to the sight of the second guy in the pic, Mulogate Gazhai. He's a citizen of Eritrea seeking sanctuary in Israel. Mulogate was in a taxi, getting away from the fighting, when he saw the wounded Y's car. He asked the taxi driver to stop. When Y regained consciousness, Mulogate told him, "I'm with you all the way." He stayed by his side, putting pressure on Y's wound to stop him from bleeding out, for almost three hours, hiding together in a ditch on the side of the road, while terrorists keep driving through this area. Today, for having saved Y's life, Mulogate was granted an honorary Israeli citizenship.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[green-eyedfirework]

Dick’s head was killing him.

He focused on that, not on the cage he was trapped in or the burning sensation under his skin or his dry throat or the useless panic button on a suit Dick wasn’t wearing, because he thought—foolishly—that he wasn’t in any danger as a civilian in Gotham in broad daylight.

One year in Bludhaven, and he’d apparently lost his self-preservation instincts.

They’d gotten him in the shadows of a dark alley, drugged him before he could put up a fight, and when he’d woken up, he’d been half-naked and shivering with a thick band of leather around his throat, duct tape across his mouth, and his hands bound behind his back.

Given time, Dick would’ve been able to slip through the ties, but then they’d dragged him out of the cage, injected him with something that burned, and ziptied his ankles too before he was thrown back in.

Whatever it was, it was fast-acting, and Dick’s general apprehension at being kidnapped slid to a sharper dread when he felt the needles prickling all over his skin.  It was going from uncomfortable to unbearable faster than he would like, and since he hadn’t told anybody of his visit, this was unlikely to have a swift ending.

Bruce was also out of town, which was the whole reason he was visiting in the first place, except if Bruce was there he would’ve promptly freaked out and checked whatever subcutaneous tracker he’d installed without Dick knowing and then Batman would’ve showed up to rescue him.

Dick tried again to get a grip on the zipties.  No Batman.  No distress signal.  No one who’d suspect he was in trouble until far, far too late.

His fingers slipped, too sweaty and dangerously weak.  Dick felt like an overcooked noodle and trying to shuffle forward, closer to the bars, made the world spin around him.

Not good, something pinged in the back of his brain, as a door screeched open somewhere in the warehouse.

“—to worry, our operation should be wrapped up by the end of the week.  Security should be minor—intel says that the Bat is out of Gotham—”

“There’s always a few birds flitting around,” a low, gruff voice said.  Dick instinctively tensed.  It sounded vaguely familiar.

“Well within your capabilities I would assume, sir.”

A grunt.  The booted footsteps were echoing in the large warehouse, sounding far away.

“There was, um, a minor matter with the issue of your payment—”

“What issue.”

“A slight shortfall in liquidity, sir.  We assure you, you will be paid in full, and to compensate you for the inconvenience, we are pleased to offer you one of our specimens.”

There was a stretching silence.  Dick was beginning to feel…itchy, but rubbing his cheek against his shoulder didn’t help.

“If I wanted a goddamn sex slave, I wouldn’t get one from Gotham.”  The derisive tone sparked another note of recognition, and Dick’s head was pounding but he registered the fear.  The knowledge didn’t come with it, not with the distracting pain, all Dick knew was that he should be very, very afraid.

“These are unique,” the milder voice said.  “Cultivated to show extreme sensitivity to touch.  All have already been given our cocktail, and can be activated with a second dose.  You can choose whichever one you like.”

“Perks of the job, is it.”  The voice was sardonic.

“Given the lack of need for training, we have a surplus of supply.  As long as your demands aren’t…unreasonable, we can accommodate them.” 

His skin felt like it was buzzing.  Like there was a static field just above its surface, and no matter which way Dick twisted, it wouldn’t go away.  He couldn’t help the wordless snarl of frustration.

He was getting distracted.  He needed to get out.  Dick tried again to grip the zipties.

“How many do you have?”  The footsteps were getting closer, moving between the rows of cages.  Several were empty.  The few that were occupied had occupants slumped over or curled into a corner.  Dick could hear ragged breathing and quiet whimpers, but nothing more.

The drugs.  Extreme sensitivity to touch.  That didn’t sound like anything good.

“Twenty or so, currently.  Are you looking for anything specific?”  There was only a noncommittal hum as the two entered his row.

The cages were low to the ground and all Dick could make out was about three-quarters of their legs.  Both wore boots, both had thigh holsters, one of them was significantly more armed than the other judging by the—

Orange.

They had orange detailing on their boots.

Dick inhaled sharply.  It could just be a coincidence.  Maybe they were common boots.  Maybe they weren’t what Dick was imagining, what Dick was dreading, but it was too late, the pieces were already beginning to click into place.  The voice that Dick now recognized, the infamous color scheme, and the way the man stopped at Dick’s sudden, sharp breath.

The man crouched until he could see through the cage and Dick met a one-eyed, two-toned mask with sinking despair.

Dick held perfectly still.  Maybe he wouldn’t be recognized.  Half-naked and bare-faced was certainly not a common look of his, and his general dishevelment and the binds would contribute to the unfamiliarity.  He could not be recognized.  He didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if he was.

“Mr. Wilson?” the mild voice asked.  “Is this the one you would like?”

“Yes,” Deathstroke replied.  “Yes, he is.”

Dick had just enough presence of mind to scramble back when the cage was opened, but all his muscles seemed to be moving on a delay, and he couldn’t stop the other man from reaching in and grabbing him by the ring on his collar and dragging him out.

“It’s to keep sensation from his skin,” the man explained—Dick noticed that he was wearing gloves as he brought out a syringe.  Dick tried to writhe away but the man held him easily in place as he injected the syringe in.  “He’ll be absolutely desperate for it soon.”

Deathstroke just watched as Dick futilely cursed the man behind his gag.  This drug burned even hotter, like he’d been injected with lava, and soon Dick was trembling all over, writhing even harder with the urge to claw his skin off.

“There,” the man said, voice still mild but eyes flashing cold and cruel.  “Yours, to do with what you like.  Your shift starts at seven, you are free till then.  If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask.”

Dick was beginning to feel lightheaded.

“I think I’ll manage to figure it out,” Deathstroke said, and there was a hand on Dick’s shoulder now.  Dick’s muscles locked up, his focus narrowed to the burning point of the warmth of the grip.

Dick wanted to run.  Dick wanted to scream.  Dick wanted to—lean further into that grip, get closer, feel more—

He went ice-cold underneath the increasingly painful heat.

Extreme sensitivity to touch.  Dick thought that meant—pain, jumping at the slightest of flinches, not this burning desire to be close to someone, a yearning, buzzing need to feel human touch.  Not something that twisted up his control until he moved easily with Deathstroke’s manhandling, looking up at the mercenary and not even trying to get free.

“This collar suits you,” Deathstroke said quietly, “little bird.”

There went Dick’s last hope that all of this was just an unpleasant coincidence.

[girlactionfigure]

🇮🇱SRI LANKA TRAVEL WARNING, POLICE DRAMA - Real time from Israel  

ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( VIDEO - The remains of Kfar Kila, a southern Lebanese near-border Hezbollah village that also acted as a major launch site. )

✡️Tonight is SIMCHAT TORAH starts tonight, where we celebrate with the Torah!  Chag Samayach, a joyful holiday!

.. Several rabbis have noted: How can we celebrate when this war started on this holiday last year?  When so many fell, so many remain hostages, so many are fighting and so many have given their lives in our defense?  

They answer: very much in the name of the fallen, in the name of the hostages, in the name of the Jewish people and those who have sacrificed, WE WILL NOT ALLOW THE ENEMY to destroy our holiday, to destroy our joy and celebration.  

AM YISROEL CHAI, the Jewish people live!  We will celebrate, we will win, we will honor their sacrifice.

✡️As a Jewish holy-day, we DO NOT POST news from sundown for 26 hours unless there is a LIFE THREATENING EMERGENCY.

⚠️ISRAEL NATIONAL SECURITY TRAVEL WARNING.. calls on the Israelis to immediately leave the Arugam Bay area and the coastal area in the south and west of Sri Lanka due to terror threat to Israeli tourists, following a warning about a terrorist squad of the Revolutionary Guards mission in the area.

⚠️ HOME FRONT COMMAND - - if you find rocket or drone debris during holiday outdoor activity, DO NOT TOUCH IT - contact Home Front (dial 104) or the Police (dial 100).  The parts may be dangerous or toxic, or be important for security.

♦️LEBANON - TZUR-TYRE.. Civil Defense in Tyre walks the streets of the city and asks citizens through loudspeakers to evacuate immediately.  The Civil Defense closed the entrances to the city of Tyre to prevent entry.  Heavy IDF attacks.

♦️LEBANON - (enemy reports) Dozens of IDF air force attacks on more than 20 villages and towns in Lebanon.

🔹IRANIAN TERROR PROPAGANDA.. a new mural in the center of Tehran: No (Israeli) hostage will be released.

🔹HOUTHIS CLEAR THEIR PORT?  Houthi leader Abdel Malik al Houthi issued an urgent order to the owners of the containers in the port to clear out the Hodediah port, immediately.  ???

🔹GERMANY SAYS.. German Foreign Minister: Israel succeeded in weakening Hezbollah to a great extent, and the task now is to reach an effective diplomatic solution.

🔹US INTEL AIRCRAFT.. The US is operating reconnaissance aircraft in the Persian Gulf to monitor the movements of Iranian surface-to-surface missiles.

🔹US SEC STATE GOES TO SAUDI ARABIA.. from Israel.  Riyadh: The American Secretary of State in Lincoln met with Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman and Saudi Foreign Minister Faisal bin Farhan, and talked with them about "the developments in Gaza and Lebanon"

▪️ON ISRAEL APPROVING THE NEW COVID VACCINE.. I received significant STRONG negative feedback about the Israel Min. Of Health approving and bringing into the fall vaxx schedule the new COVID vaccine.  It has become ridiculously difficult to determine the facts around COVID vaccines, and I can only advise to consult with a trusted medical professional before taking this vaccine, and there are categories of people who should clearly avoid it such as men under 30.

.. Israel no longer has public COVID testing, COVID (and flu, and both together, and strep - quick test kits are available at pharmacies), so there is no case rate data.

.. The last info I can find on COVID in Israel is 14 cases hospitalized in June, all seniors with other health problems. This is the “from COVID or with COVID” argument, and the article seems to state “with”.