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michelle-is-writing · 3 months ago

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Stunt Driving, Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.8k~

3rd person, Spencer x fem!reader

Other than Derek Morgan, Spencer didn't know anyone that could drive so recklessly, yet, still be safe at the same time. That was until Agent (Y/n) (L/n) was hired at the BAU. She was intelligent, but she couldn't compare to that of Spencer's list of achievements. (Y/n) didn't graduate high school at age twelve, nor did she have several masters degrees or Ph.D.'s under her belt. Instead, she slightly leisured and worked hard at the same time. She gained her degrees with good grades while making memories with those around her. One person she grew close to was her father.

Being an auto mechanic who worked at home, (Y/n)'s father got to work on a lot of cars, especially those from the seventies and eighties. Once the cars were fixed, (Y/n)'s dad always took it for a drive with her in the passenger seat, and even though it probably wasn't the best idea, he would teach her how to drive fast - whether it be to have fun (again, probably not the best idea) or get out of a dangerous situation. The things learned by (Y/n) would last her a lifetime and would prove to be necessary in this current moment.

Driving one of the FBI's SUV at ninety miles per hour wasn't something that Spencer imagined himself experiencing today, and as he looked at the beautiful woman in the driver's seat beside him, he didn't exactly know what to think. She seemed so focused on what she was doing, and because of the mileage they were reaching, Spencer was thankful for this. However, there was still that screaming statistic in the back of his mind, shouting, "40% of all accidents are caused by speeding over 75 miles per hour!"

"(Y/n), slow down!" Spencer yelled as she swerved in and out of traffic, the unsub's car merely twenty feet away from their vehicle. Gripping the safety handle above him as hard as he could, Spencer felt like he could have a heart attack any moment now. She was unsafe in her driving because of the speed she was traveling at, yet, she was somehow keeping them safe by her constant reflexes and quick reaction times. "You're going to get us killed!"

"Spencer," (Y/n) said his name, swiftly checking her mirrors before speeding into the next lane, the engine screaming as she did so. Looking over into the driver side window, Spencer could see the unsub constantly checking over his shoulder, his panic only growing once he sees the BAU's vehicle next to his. "Do you trust me?"

"What?" Spencer asked his coworker, her gorgeous (e/c) eyes flashing over to his for a quick second. Despite being in such a tense situation, Spencer couldn't help but be lured in by her eyes as his heart had grown for the woman as soon as she started working in the BAU. Fortunately, (Y/n) felt the same, he just didn't know it.

"I need you to trust me," She repeats her words, gaining an almost groan from Spencer. He was trusting her enough by putting his life in her hands at the wheel, what else did she want?

"You know better than anyone how to calculate an unsub's next move," She reminds him, the unsub speeding up to get ahead of their SUV. "And you and I both know he's going to swerve in front of me at some point and slam on his breaks," she points out, frowning as she yanks the car into the same lane as the unsub. "I need you to tell me when you think that's going to happen."

Determination laced throughout her voice, (Y/n)'s eyes stayed glued on the banged-up car in front of her as the RPMs of their vehicle bounced between its high and low numbers. Not knowing what her full plan was, Spencer questioned himself as to why he quietly nodded at her words, but nonetheless, still turned his head to watch the car in front of them. As facts about the unsub came to mind, Spencer compiled everything into one of his long, drawn out equations before estimating when the murderer would do just as (Y/n) had said.

It was only when he saw the unsub sit closer to the wheel with a tighter grip on it that Spencer felt he was going to change his moves. "Now," Spencer told the woman, watching as she slowed their vehicle down only slightly, but still deliberately. Seconds after the SUV reached 80, the car in front of her slammed on the breaks, causing (Y/n) to smirk as she knew her plan was in full effect.

Quickly swerving into the line beside her, she wastes no time before lining her front wheels up to his back ones and slamming into him, effectively making him begin to slide uncontrollably on the road, the side of his vehicle pinned to the front of their SUV. Spencer watched in panic as the unsub tried to regain control of his car, only to swerve away and into a field. Sitting back against his chair with a sigh, Spencer shut his eyes as he felt the car begin to finally slow down. He'd never done a pit maneuver on anyone before, having only read about it before in books or hearing about it in news cases.

For a second, he let himself relax until he felt the SUV start reversing before swerving in a 180 degree motion, making his eyes shoot back open and see their vehicle now facing the same direction as the unsub. The wheels immediately regained traction against the asphalt before lunging into the dirt and across the grass covered field. The unsub had barely any time to react and drive away as the SUV made contact with the front end, pushing it farther into the field all the while further destroying the car and preventing it from driving anymore.

Now stopped, (Y/n) threw her seatbelt off and dashed out of her seat. Once again, Spencer found himself watching the scene unfold in front of him, his eyes glued to the way (Y/n) held her pistol all the while dragging the unsub out of the vehicle. Surprisingly, the man's arms eventually came up to hold his head, showing he was still alive despite being hit twice.

It's only then that Spencer snapped out of his haze, clambering out of the vehicle behind her as she tugged the injured man onto his stomach. Aside from the man's cries, the sound of sirens began to follow them much to Spencer's delight. They couldn't keep up with the unsub, losing him in traffic due to his speeds, but that wasn't a hard challenge for (Y/n).

Clearly.

It was merely thirty seconds later that the rest of the team joined them, followed by several ambulances and police vehicles that promptly looked over the murderer before taking him away to jail. This left both Spencer and (Y/n) to be checked over despite being alright throughout it all. It took hardly any time for Spencer to be declared fine, leaving him to make sure (Y/n) was okay.

Walking over to her ambulance, he saw an EMS worker finish wrapping up (Y/n)'s slightly bleeding wrist, his steps now a bit more panicked as he came closer to her. "I cut my hand on a piece of glass when handcuffing the guy," (Y/n) quickly explained to the worried man, smiling at him. "I'm okay, Spence, really."

Feeling his heart warm up in response to (Y/n) calling him the nickname she adopted for him, he saw himself sitting next to her and sighing. "Where did you...?" Spencer began, not knowing where to go with his question. Instead of waiting for him to continue, she smirked and finished for him.

"Where did I learn to do that?" She asked for clarification, receiving a nod in response. Still smiling, she happily answered him. "When I was younger, my dad fixed cars, but you already knew that," She explained, Spencer nodding along as she spoke.

"Well, he also liked stunts and he taught me a few things too," she shrugged, "The pit maneuver was nothing, but that j-turn was something else," She explained, the Spencer's ears perking up as she answered his next question without him even saying it.

Her smile slowly died down before she slid a hand over to his resting on the ambulance, albeit a bit cautiously. However, his unchanging expression showed her it was okay, and so, she left her hand on top of his.

"I am sorry if I scared you, Spencer," She apologized, "Not everyone's used to... well, my driving, but I can't help it," They both shared a small laugh at this, staring at each other for a few moments before she spoke up once more. "Still, I hope you don't see me as reckless or immature."

In response to her words, Spencer let out a small laugh before wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her close. Perhaps it was the chaotic experience they just faced, or maybe it was the longing stares and touches they sometimes exchanged, but Spencer didn't know where this sudden burst of confidence was coming from. In fact, the only thing that reassured him of his actions was (Y/n) reciprocating them and nuzzling into his side ever so slightly.

"You didn't scare me," Spencer lied, putting on a genuine smile due to the happiness he felt from the combination of (Y/n)'s touch and words. "To be honest, I thought it was kind of hot," The words left his lips as awkward as they could, followed by a dark blush taking over his porcelain cheeks.

Although, (Y/n) paid no mind to his embarrassment, and instead, she couldn't help but lean up and gently kiss Spencer's soft lips. They were slightly swollen from him biting them in the car out of anxiousness and fright, but (Y/n) didn't care. She was happy just to be kissing the man, and even more elated at the sensation of him kissing back.

A small amount of applause filled the area around them, causing the two to part and look around to see their teammates grinning and clapping their hands.

"I knew it!" JJ yelled, clapping her hands together with an excited smile. "This was going to happen sooner or later,"

Beside JJ was Emily, smiling as well while clapping her on the back. Spencer and (Y/n) then began to stutter to Emily that they wouldn't let this interfere with their work, but the dark-haired woman simply held up a hand in response. "It's okay, I know you two, and I know you'll still be the same excellent workers," The smile she wore grew into that of a smirk, anticipating her next reply. "Just a bit more cuddly... and cute."

Relieved, both (Y/n) and Spencer couldn't help but let out a small sigh simultaneously, causing them to look back at each other with sheepish smiles from being caught. Barely any words had been expressed between the two when it came to their new relationship, but one thing was definite: (Y/n)'s motor-loving heart had become entangled with Spencer's chess-loving one, and he was happy.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds smut #criminal minds

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shinestarhwaa · 6 months ago

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GETAWAY CAR || WOOYOUNG

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Wooyoung x Fem reader

Word Count: 3K

Tags/Warnings: Strangers to lovers, runaway bride y/n, roadtripper Wooyoung, toxic relationship (not woo), corruption, a looot of things wrong with y/n's ex, single bed trope, sexual assault, trauma, traumabonding, oral sex, dirty language, protected sex, praise kink, fingering, biting kink

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno @therealcuppicake @unholywriters @enbymingi @jjoongstar

ENJOY!

You swore you had never ran this fast before in your life. An occasional jogging session in the park? Sure. Played hide and seek at the age of 7 on the playground? Totally.

But you were sure this must be some kind of personal record. You cursed yourself for picking a big ass ballgown because man, it was heavy just wearing it. And now you were carrying it as you fled the church.

You were breathing so fast you thought you might have a panic attack but you also knew if you stopped now they'd find you in no time. The white heels were slightly too tight but you ran in them nonetheless, surprising yourself with this newfound talent.

Suddenly you noticed a big black van across the street and before thinking you made your way over there. There was a young man inside, handsome, you could already tell. Could be hurt you? Kill you? Yeah, possibly. Likely. But you tapped the window nonetheless.

The guy rolled down the window and raised his eyebrow, watching a young woman with sweat dripping from her forehead and obviously wearing a huge wedding dress cling to the door of his van.

"Can I help you? Drive you to a wedding, perhaps?" He grinned.

"I'm running away from it, actually. Please, I need to get in. I can't marry him, I need... Need to get in."

You looked at him with pleading eyes, grasping the door so tight your knuckles turned white. He looked concerned for a second but he nodded, hopping out of the van and opening the door on the passenger's side.

As you stepped inside and took a seat, the guy helped stuffing your train into the vehicle with you. He slammed the door and sat back behind the wheel. "A runaway bride, huh?"

"Yeah. I don't care where you're going, just drive somewhere, anywhere is better than this horrendous town," you shuddered. "Got ya," he said before starting the car. You took deep breath, calming down from the sprint you took.

"I'm Wooyoung, I'm bored so I am roadtripping" the guy said as he drove out of town, entering the highway. "Y/N," you breathed out, "professional runaway bride."

He laughed, startling you with some kind of witchy-noise or whatever the hell it was. "May I ask what the story is? I love a good story time."

You sighed and brushed your hair out of your face. "Well, I was supposed to marry this guy. This... business guy who I dated for years. This guy I completely wasted my youth on."

"Was he that bad?" Wooyoung asked. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. "Do you have a minute?" "Spill the beans," he said, nodding his head. "He's 7 years older, to start with. He corrupted me, being my first everything basically. We got together when I was 16, he was 23 and I was too in love to notice how wrong that was. No one around me cared, honestly. My parents and his parents are business partners and very good friends and that's how we met."

Wooyoung nodded again, understanding the moral of the story. "They just wanted you to marry well to look good, didn't they?"

You sighed. "That's right. They were planning a huge church wedding for us and it was all so overwhelming. Over the past months I realized I wasn't in a loving relationship. I've been stuck in a trap where I was going to be used as a maid with an available womb. A woman to clean the house, cook, do whatever he wants me to and birth 6 sons or whatever."

"That sounds awful, I'm glad you saw the light, for real." "Me too. I don't know what I'm gonna do now. I don't think I can ever have a functioning relationship with my parents again, or even look them in the eyes. I might need to move continents," you grinned.

"Solid idea, running away from problems is also my solution to everything."

"Oh yeah? What is your story?"

"Well," Wooyoung started, "mostly my family's high expectations of me. They want me to be a lawyer or a doctor but... I don't know. I wanna see the world. I wanna be free."

There was a sense of deep sadness in that last sentence, changing the ambience inside the van. You figured everyone dealt with their own problems as well.

"You felt trapped too?" You asked him, looking at him. He nodded. "I felt trapped too."

•♡○♡○♡•♡○♡•

After an hour of driving Wooyoung parked at a motel. "Really?" You asked him as you looked at the place in disgust. "Well, I'm no billionaire, Y/N." You nodded and followed him inside, where he bargained for a room.

"Congratulations on the wedding," the woman behind the desk said with a bright smile. Not having the energy to explain your story you thanked her and followed Wooyoung to your shared motel room.

It wasn't pretty, or luxurious like you were used to but it did the job. "I'm sorry she said she only has this room, no rooms with two single beds or anything," Wooyoung apologized.

You nodded and sat down on the bed. "I honestly don't care. I just need to sleep." Wooyoung nodded and patted your shoulder lightly. "I'm going to use the bathroom for second," he said before excusing himself.

When Wooyoung came back you were lying on your back, fast asleep. He felt sad, looking at you laying in the motel bed on your wedding day. He looked around in his bag and pulled out some cash money before exiting the room to buy some essentials.

The next morning you woke up, but Wooyoung wasn't next to you. Where did he go? Did that fucker abandon you? You sat up and looked around and noticed Wooyoung bought a bottle of water, a sandwich and a dress for you to wear. You felt tears burn in your eyes and suddenly it was hard to breathe. Pushing away your feelings, you got ready.

Half an hour later you left the room with the dress in your arms. You walked over to the van and noticed Wooyoung sitting inside it with the back doors open. "Hey," he said with a smile. "Hi, what are you doing here? Why did you get me a dress?"

"I couldn't possibly let you wear that wedding dress any longer so I got some from a convenience store last night. And... I slept here." "In the van? On that matrass? Jesus Wooyoung, we had a bed you know." "I couldn't sleep next to you. You're a woman, you were supposed to get married and... I... I didn't want to bother you or make you uncomfortable."

Tears burned in your eyes again and you sight, laying the dress in the van, next to the matrass. "Thank you, I appreciate it..." you mumbled, "Where are we going now? Do we have a plan?"

"Do I look like I plan these things?" He grinned, getting up from the van and closing the backdoor before sitting behind the wheel. You got in too and whipped out your phone, but as you suspected it was dead. Maybe that was for the best anyway.

Later on you and Wooyoung had driven for hours and it was time for a break. You got to know each other well and you thought he was surprisingly fun. It was around 2PM when you got out of the car after whining about being hungry for about 2 hours. You were leaning against the car door while Wooyoung went into the shop at the gas station to get you something to eat and drink.

Wooyoung had only been gone for a few minutes when a guy came up to you. He looked slightly crooked and he gave you an eerie feeling. Uncomfortable, you shifted a little bit and looked around, trying to spot people around you but it was quiet.

"Hey there, gorgeous," the man spoke in a low voice that gave you goosebumps. And not the good kind. You cringed when you smelled the alcohol on his breath. "Hi," you said, trying to sound brave and confident. "Are you all alone here princess?" "Princess?" You scoffed.

"Well aren't you a little princess? I could surely treat you like a princess in bed," he smirked, getting closer. Your body froze and your eyes widened as you felt the man's hands on you. Just when the man was about to touch your chest he got pulled away.

Wooyoung.

"What the hell are you doing man?" He yelled. The man stumbled and fell down, groaning and yelling something that you couldn't understand. Wooyoung nearly pushed you into the van before getting in himself, driving off quickly. He tossed a little plastic bag filled with drinks and snacks into your lap.

"Geez, I'm sorry that happened, did he go far?" "N-no it's okay," you whispered. You wanna be brave about this but the idea of what could have happened if Wooyoung came back a little later. No one else would have been around. "I got scared when I walked out of the shop and saw that man by my van. Then I realized why I didn't see you. That perverted freak was towering all over you. So, I ran. I was not gonna let that happen to you too."

Too? What did he mean by that? You shrugged off the thoughts and thanked Wooyoung before eating one of the sandwiches from the shop. Wooyoung turned back to the highway, driving further to your next stop.

There was a nice little inn right next to the road and you decided to stay the night there. The inn also contained a little restaurant where you were seated, enjoying a nice homecooked meal. You were feeling a little cold, so Wooyoung had thrown his jacket over your shoulders. It hardly worked but the thought of it warmed your heart.

"Wooyoung?" You started when you finished your meal. He nodded and looked up, his eyes finding yours. "What did you mean when you said you didn't want that to happen to me too? Why the too?"

Wooyoung swallowed thickly and sighed, slightly dropping his head before looking at you again. "Because it happened to me, a few years ago. This person... cornered me, before they tried to kiss me and feel me up while I said I didn't want them to. I felt horrible after that and I don't want you to feel that way too. You already have enough family and wedding drama, you don't need assault drama to go with it."

You took Wooyoungs hand and gently squeezed it. "Thank you for sharing that, Woo." Wooyoung kindly smiled and assured you it was all good, and that he's just glad that you are alright.

That night you learned about Wooyoung's playful side after having a couple shots with him in the hotelroom. "So what's your bodycount?" He had asked. "Excuse meee? What kind of question is that!" You yelled, nearly punching him in the face. "Hey I am just curious. I'll tell you mine! It is-" "I do not need to hear it Woo! Fine. It's 1, duh."

"You've only slept with that dickhead?" "Well I was 16 when we got together so yeah?" "Was he any good?"

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "Well I don't really have any comparison? I don't know. I don't really miss it I guess? I like the idea of it but I don't necissarily enjoyed it that much?"

"I bet he didn't use his dick right." "Wooyoung, please."

"I'm serious!" Wooyoung said as he got up. "He probably had no idea how to pleasure a woman. How to make her feel loved and safe while at the same time make her scream out your name and completely ruin her."

Your cheeks heated up when he spoke those words and your eyes scanned Wooyoungs body, unintentionally. "What's that like?" You asked, sounding a little too innocent for your liking.

"Want me to show you?"

Your breath hitched in your throat. You remember what you'd heard people say one day: nothing good starts in a getaway car. Maybe you should run. Maybe you should not travel around with Wooyoung, a stranger. That is what you told yourself. But your heart said differently. Wooyoung wasn't just a stranger. He's your savior. It doesn't matter that he's not perfect, that he is on the run, that he has issues left to work out. He drove your getaway car when you needed it the most. He saved you from a life of unhappiness. You weren't unsafe with him.

And this thought made you fall.

You pulled him on top of you and pressed your lips on his, tasting the alcohol the two of you drank earlier. You weren't drunk but you sure felt lightheaded when Wooyoung slightly bit your lip. He grinned playfully as he slid his knee inbetween your thighs.

His knee gently rubbed against your clothed crotch and you whimpered into his mouth, grinding yourself on it instantly. Wooyoung pulled back from the kiss and his hands skimmed across your clothed breasts. "What a naughty little girl," he smirked, pushing his knee slightly harder into your crotch. You moaned when it triggered your clit, making your cunt clench around nothing.

"Wooyoung, please," you sighed softly. Wooyoung nodded and shifted your dress up to your waist, pulling down your panties. He got on his knees in front of the bed and pulled you closer to the edge, legs over his shoulders as he buried his face into your warmth.

You winced when you felt his teeth graze your clit before sucking lightly on it. "I'm gonna treat this pretty pussy so well, gonna make you come like he never has," he spoke. "H-he's never used his mouth on me so that is a given," you said in a breathy voice.

Wooyoung looked at you, surprised. He kept eye contact as he kept sucking on your sensitive clit, one of his fingers slowly entering your wet hole. Soon enough he slid in a second, pumping and curling them right where you liked it. Wooyoung paid attention to your facial expressions and body language to see what would make you go crazy.

When he started to fuck you with his fingers, his lips and tongue still attached to your clit you started to moan louder, unable to contain the moans that erupted from your throat. The way he pleasured you was nearly poetic. It was calculated, but heartfelt. He knew what he was doing. He knew what he wanted to say. What he wanted you to feel.

You felt your core tighten and you knew you were about to come soon. When you announced your nearing orgasm to Wooyoung he didn't stop. He kept going, ready to take the arousal that you'd give him.

This orgasm was like nothing you had ever experienced before. It started slowly and it was building up until everything crashed down and it seemed to go on endlessly, until Wooyoung pulled away from you. "That's it, that's a good girl," Wooyoung spoke.

You took a deep breath before propping yourself up on your elbows, looking into Wooyoungs eyes. Your dress had slipped down slightly, one of your nipples being visible ever so slightly. It was a sight to behold to Wooyoung. Nothing he had ever seen before felt this erotic. The prettiest, sensitive pussy right there on display for him, the fucked out look on your face. It drove him insane and he had to have you now.

Wooyoung took a condom from his bag and stripped himself bare. You were surprised to see the tattoos on his skin. You wanted to admire them but Wooyoung had put on his condom and lifted up your legs, calves resting against his chest. You nodded quickly, giving him consent to do whatever it was that he wanted to do to you.

Gently, he pushed into your cunt, spread open wide for him. "Oh, Woo!" You cried out when he started moving inside you. You were feeling sensitive after your orgasm and his pelvis brushed against your clit slightly with every thrust.

"That feels so good, k-keep doing that!" You whimpered when he picked up his pace and force. Wooyoung grunted and bit into the skin of your lower leg to surpress his moans. You whined loudly and grabbed the sheets tight into your fists, squeezing until your knuckles turned white.

Something about not being able to see your entire body but still getting the honor of being inside you and rocking your world did something to Wooyoung. It certainly did not take long before he felt himself get close, so he slowed down but immediately you begged him for more.

"Give it to me, give me everything, please!" You begged him, squirming underneath him as he leaned down more. He pounded into you and moaned out your name, his eyebrows furrowed.

"W-Wooyoung please come for me, please come, say my name," you panted out when you felt Wooyoung twitch inside your pussy. Only seconds later Wooyoung screamed out your name, spurting his seeds into the condom.

Wooyoung leaned back and spread your legs a little more so he could reach your clit. He moved his fingers over your sensitive, swollen clit and it only took a minute before you came again with Wooyoungs name on your lips.

He pulled his thick cock out of you and discarded the condom, throwing it in the trash. He placed you properly on the bed before kissing your head and making sure you're doing well.

"That was incredible," you breathed out, "you made me cum twice!"

Wooyoung laughed and stroked your hair. "Well that should be the standard." You grinned and nodded, laying your sleepy head on Wooyoungs chest. Maybe not everything about that getaway car is bad. Maybe something good can come out of it after all.

#kpop #shinestarhwaa #ateez #smut #angst #wooyoung #getaway car

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yxngbxkkie · 1 year ago

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freak accident (b.c)

welcome to the third installment of mechanic!chris 🫢 i had thought of this idea the other day as a way to make it angsty but it's still pretty fucking cute 🤭 i do hope you guys enjoy it! ✨️mechanic chan for life✨️

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

You're out shopping for dinner tonight when your phone starts to ring. You furrow your brows, wondering who it could be since Chris is working and Hyunjin's at an art exhibit.

An unknown number is printed on your screen, and you reluctantly answer it. “Hello?” You start walking through the aisles again, waiting for whomever is on the line.

“Hi, this is Dr. Brown at SNUH. Am I speaking to Y/N?” You stop in your tracks at the question, feeling your heart begin to race.

“Yeah, yeah, this is Y/N,” you say to him, moving to a more secluded area in the store.

You can hear the background noise of nurses trying to speak to him, only to be hushed. “I'm calling in regards to Chris. There's been a slight accident at his auto shop and was rushed over here,” he explains the situation.

“Is… is he okay?” You ask, your breathing picking up.

“He's stable. I can give you more information on what happened when you get here,” the doctor states.

You nod your head, abandoning your cart as you rush towards the main doors. “Okay, I'll be there as fast I can,” you mutter before he hangs up.

As you're almost running to your car, you take deep breaths to stop you from having a form of attack. Tears pool in your eyes, every scenario of what could have happened runs through your mind.

The drive to the hospital doesn't take very long, thankful that traffic is on your side today. You quickly lock your vehicle and rush inside, stopping in front of the admitting desk.

“Hi,” you're out of breath, feeling the palms of your hands get sweaty. “I'm here to see Christopher Bang.”

The woman behind the desk nods and types in the patient's name. You tap your fingers against the desk, waiting for her to give you a room number.

“He's in room 203,” she tells you, making quick eye contact.

“Okay, thank you,” you mumble before walking over to the elevators. You take it up to the second floor, finding a sign to where 203 would be as soon as you step off.

You see a doctor and a nurse standing outside one of the rooms, finding out that it's Chris’ room. You walk closer to the pair, capturing the attention of the nuse.

She nudges the doctor, motioning her head in your direction. You clasp your fingers together as you make eye contact with Dr. Brown. “Y/N, yes?” He asks, holding a hand out for you to shake.

“Yes, hi,” you greet him with a bow, shaking the older man's hand. Your gaze flickers toward the small window in the door, seeing Chris lying on the hospital bed. “What happened?”

The doctor releases a deep breath. “He was working on a vehicle when it fell from the lift,” he starts, earning a gasp from you. “Thankfully, he wasn't completely under it and that he's quick on his feet. The situation could've been worse. He broke his left leg in two places.”

“Oh my god,” you mutter while stepping up to the door.

Dr. Brown gently rests one of his hands on your shoulders, reassuring you. “He'll be okay. The surgery went well. He had a couple of plates and screws put in. It'll somewhat be a long road to recovery,” he mentions.

“Is there anything he'll need to do?” You ask, tucking some hair behind your ears.

“There will be some follow-up appointments with orthopedics. But, that won't be for a few weeks. I'll have our nurse write down instructions you'll need for the healing process.”

You nod your head before opening the door. Both the doctor and nurse decide to let you have a moment with Chris alone. You gently shut the door behind you and walk over to the chair next to his bed.

Your eyes look at the cast on his leg, seeing that it's almost up to his knee. A frown, etches itself on your lips as you place your hand on his. You let out a couple of deep breaths, squeezing his hand in yours.

“I'm glad that it's only a broken leg,” you say out loud, not talking to anyone. You bring his hand closer to you, kissing the back of it softly.

Chris’ upper body stirs, making your movements halt. You watch his eyes slowly flutter open, squinting at the bright lights. He releases a tired groan, tilting his head towards you.

“Y/N?” He calls out your name, making your heart flutter.

You scoot closer to the bed and squeeze his hand. “I'm here,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear.

He smiles at you while lacing your fingers together. “I'm so happy to see you,” Chris mutters, turning his head again before closing his eyes.

“I'm happy to see you too, baby. I'm glad you're okay,” you mention, standing up from your chair.

You keep your hands intertwined and bring your free hand to his forehead. You brush the hair out of his face, listening to him hum continuously.

“I don't know what happened,” he mentions, smiling at the touch of your fingers. “It all happened so fast.”

“It's okay. The only thing that matters is that you're alive,” you state before leaning down to kiss his forehead.

A knock on the door captures both of your attention. The nurse from before walks in with a sheet of paper. “This is everything he'll need to do during recovery and the appointments he'll have,” she says to you while handing you the paper.

You grab a hold of it, your thumb stroking the back of his hand as you read through it. “Okay, thank you,” you smile at her, setting the paper on the table beside you. “When is he being discharged?”

“He's all set now. There's a wheelchair and a pair of crutches right outside the door,” she informs you before leaving.

“Chris, baby,” you softly call out his name, watching him open his eyes again. “Do you want to stay at my place during recovery?”

He tilts his head towards you and shakes his head. “You live on the fourth floor,” he mumbles, causing you to chuckle. “I live on the first floor. You can stay at my place. I also have a spare bedroom you can use.”

You laugh some more, combing your fingers through his hair. “What? You don't want to sleep in the same bed as me?” You joke with him, helping him sit up.

“I do, I swear,” Chris groans, leaning into your body. “I didn't know if you wanted to.”

A hum leaves your lips. “Such a sweet man,” you sigh before pulling away slightly. You stroke his cheek, watching him blink. “Are you going to be okay? I gotta grab the wheelchair.”

He nods his head, pursing his lips. You know what he's asking for, and you smile at him before planting a kiss on his plump lips.

“I'll be quick,” you mumble against his lips, placing one more kiss on his forehead.

You slowly walk behind Chris, eyeing him as he crutches into the kitchen of his apartment. It's been a few days since he's been discharged from the hospital, and he seems to be taking it really well.

He slumps into the chair, releasing a hefty sigh. “This is exhausting,” Chris laughs, lifting his head to look at you.

“You're doing well, though,” you grin, tapping his chin.

“Thank you for staying with me,” he mentions, grabbing your hand. “I couldn't ask for a better partner.”

Your cheeks blush, and you shrug your shoulders. “Of course, baby. I… I love you,” you tell him for the first time.

It's been a couple of months since the two of you started dating. He's not like any other guy you've been with. He's such a sweetheart, and he treats you like an absolute queen. It didn't take long for you to figure out that you loved him.

Chris stares up at you, his lips parted at the sudden phrase. “You love me?” He whispers, squeezing your hand. You giggle, nodding your head in answer. “Even like this?”

“Chris, baby, yes,” you laugh.

“I love you. I love you so much,” he says while resting his head against your stomach.

You wrap your arms around him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “Now, what do you want to eat?” You ask him, opening his fridge to take a look inside.

“You wanna just order something? I haven't had the chance to go shopping,” he mentions with a pout.

“Sure, baby. Maybe later I can quickly go get some groceries,” you mention, having him move into the living room.

Chris walks into the living room before lowering himself onto the couch. You grab the pillow beside him and tuck it under his leg, keeping it elevated.

“If you do, I'll give you my card,” he says as you sit down next to him.

He places his hand on your thigh, stroking the inside of it. “I can pay for it, it's okay,” you reassure him, linking your arm with his.

He groans, resting his head against the back of the couch. “Baby, it's my place. Let me pay for my groceries,” he whines.

“You can get them next time,” you wink at him, patting his good leg.

“Fine,” he reluctantly agrees, squeezing your thigh.

You cuddle into his side after grabbing the remote. He combs his fingers through your hair as you find a movie to watch.

Chris looks at his food delivery app, trying to decide what he wants for lunch. “Do you want to get a variety of things?” He asks you, showing you his phone screen.

You quickly glance at the screen and nod your head. “Yeah, that's fine. It is pretty late, and we haven't eaten anything yet,” you tell him, moving your gaze from his phone to his face.

He smiles at you fondly, moving some strands of hair out of your eyes. “Man, I really love you,” Chris sighs, shaking his head. You giggle at his reaction. “I know it's only been a couple of months, but after this is over… I wouldn't mind you staying here.”

Your heart skips a beat, sitting up slightly. “Are you saying you want me to live here?” You ask him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

“I've enjoyed the past two days even though my leg hurts,” he chuckles.

We'll see when you're all better,” you giggle, patting his chest. “You might get sick of me.”

Chris scoffs and playfully rolls his eyes. He hooks a finger beneath your jaw, turning your head before kissing you. “I'll never get sick of you, baby,” he mumbles against your lips, planting soft pecks after.

You kiss him once more before grinning. “We'll see, lover boy.”

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n @meloncremesoda

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helldivers-2 · 2 months ago

Text

MAJOR ORDER: FACTORY HUB THREATENED

The AM Defense Factory Hub on ACHERNAR SECUNDUS has come under attack by the Illuminate, threatening production of the Fast Reconnaissance Vehicle (FRV).

If the Illuminate are not repelled, distribution of the FRV will be severely delayed.

Importantly, many colonists will also be killed or abducted.

#helldivers #helldivers 2 #helldivers ii #helldivers updates #super earth #illuminate

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weministertomonsters · 2 months ago

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The Alien Emissary

Or, It's Hard To Be An Emissary When Everything In Space Hates You

➤ Wordcount - 1.9k (ignore the double spacing, the format always gets fucked when I write on my phone. I'll fix it later!)

──────────────────

Sweat drips down your temple as you yank the decelerator on the shiny new spacecraft you just stole from a bunch of angry aliens. When your superior broke protocol to squeeze every last drop of advantage out of the deal, the alien race you were negotiating with decided to solve the problem by lighting his ass on fire. Bye, Frank. The show of aggression made everyone trigger-happy, and within seconds, bullets were flying on what had once been neutral ground.

You’re not built for warfare. Your expertise lies in intergalactic extraterrestrial correspondence, preferably from the safety of a comfy spaceship. So you hauled ass and ran for shelter, which just so happened to be the Vathri shuttle; a smallish, compact transportation vehicle nowhere near as flashy as one of their motherships. You had no trouble finding the cockpit and silently thanked the stars for your former career in piloting as you got the shuttle off the ground.

Before the Vathri could notice what was happening, you had sealed the entrance ports to keep them out. There was plenty of spear-waving and shard-snapping, but none of them want to attack their own spacecraft, so you took off without a hitch. By the time they realized you’d taken their only mode of transportation, it was too late. You can only hope they have another way to call their mothership for a ride. You're not too worried because the tech-savvy Vathri are probably already tracking you, thirsting for blood.

You wipe the sweat from your brow and drop into the pilot’s seat, scanning the unfamiliar controls for a tracking system to make sure they can't locate you too easily. Despite your piloting experience, the Vathri controls are difficult to decipher, like trying to use a keyboard made for a foreign language. Every dial and button looks like a potential disaster. Two buttons in particular catch your attention—a blinking red one, ominous and foreboding, placed next to a glowy green button. Some real Matrix-level bullshit. After a moment’s hesitation, you reach for the green button.

A fuzzy sound echoes over the intercom, followed by a glitchy, deep voice: “Inadvisable.”

Well, shit.

“Who’s this? Are you the system?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder just in case. The voice came through the speakers, and there’s no one behind you.

The response takes a moment, but the voice comes again. "No."

"Who are you? Are you one of them?"

"Partially."

"What does that mean?"

"I am Vathri, but I am not with this contingent."

"Um, how's that?" You manage to find the hover feature and turn it on, multitasking figuring the shuttle out and talking to the voice.

"I am a prisoner of the Vathri State."

"Wait, so you're on this shuttle?" Your eyes widen in alarm.

"How else would we be in conversation? I am chained in the hold."

"Great, then stay there. The last thing I want to add to my list of crimes is assisting in a jailbreak," you mutter.

Now that you're hovering, the last thing you want is something sneaking up on you. There are much worse things than the Vathri out here. The Vathri you're talking to takes so long to speak again that you almost forget about it as you search the compartments on the dashboard for a manual. Unlikely, but you're not one to go without checking these kinds of things. Everything is scrupulously clean. There are even any bits and bobs in the compartments. The small square screen in front of you looks like it's for scoping, so you turn that on. Bingo. Your surroundings blink on the screen, which is nice and empty.

"A platoon of Vathri is headed your way," the intercom buzzes. "And they make haste."

"No!" You look at the screen and the prisoner is right.

An indicator has just shown up on the radar and it's coming up fast. The system beeps politely to let you know. You grab the controls and kick the little spacecraft into gear. You might not know A from B, but you do know how to fly things in general. The shuttle shoots forward smooth as butter sliding across a hot plate, and you grapple with the steering, which suddenly seems to have a mind of its own.

"Careful," you mutter, leaning back in the seat and reminding yourself to breathe.

You haven't got a helmet on to enhance your vision, so you have to rely on your human eyesight and just pray you don't fly straight into asteroid spray. There's probably a mode for that on the scoping system but it's beyond your understanding. You can't just mash buttons and hope something goes well. You're sweating again.

"I can assist you."

"I'm handling it," you snap, jolting in your seat. Your almost forgotten about them. "We're fine."

"You have little knowledge of the controls and have effectively made this spacecraft a potential coffin."

"How are you seeing what I'm doing anyway?" You demand, taking a hard right.

The shuttle wheels around so sharply that it does a neat little flip over your pursuers. There's a thump in the hold, and you wince.

"I guess you're not strapped in. Sorry," you mutter. You can't help but gasp when you see the behemoth of a ship that's after you. It's black and the gloss on the exterior makes it look slippery. It's clearly meant for stealth and packed with heavy artillery. The spiked flare on top resembles a shark's fin, and you nearly shear the hull of the shuttle open on it. That's how close the ship is.

"Shit!" You scream. "What the fuck is that?"

"A Deathglider," the imprisoned Vathri says. Their voice sounds far away. "Calm yourself, human. You will lose control."

"That thing is massive! Oh my god, I'm so fucked," you moan, pushing the acceleration as high as it can go.

The Deathglider is too big for quick turns, but it has triple the thrusters and once it curves around, it's quickly gaining on you again.

"I can pilot the craft."

"Not a chance!" You snap. "I'm managing!"

Indeed, you are. If you can turn the correct scoping mode on, you might be able to lose them in an asteroid field. If your sense of direction is still holding true, then you know from the briefing earlier today that there's one nearby. You're confident you can pull it off up until the Deathglider starts shooting at you. The first shot misses by a good twenty feet—or maybe that was a warning—and your mouth falls open as you see the metal shaft of the bullet burning past the cockpit window.

"I'm human, you assholes!" You holler into the air. "I made a mistake, but I'm not that big of a threat! Stop with the missiles!"

"I do not believe they are much interested in you."

"Oh yeah? Then why in the blazes..."

"That was for me."

You gasp and steer to the left as the Deathglider takes a second shot. Another near miss; and now the system is giving you a warning of the engine overheating. Your ride isn't meant to accelerate this fast and for so long.

"What the hell did you even do, kill the Queen?" You demand. "Why do you have a army after you?"

"I fucked the Princess."

"Come again?"

"Is that not the word you use? To fuck—"

"I heard you the first time! I thought you were joking!" You screech.

"They are almost upon us. Let me help you."

This entire time, the Vathri's voice has remained at the same eerily unaffected pitch. If they're scared of dying in an exploding ball of shrapnel, they don't sound like it. You give up trying to do this alone when the next shot takes out one of the thrusters. Luckily, it clips clean off instead of going up in a fiery blaze, but unless there's a miracle, the shuttle will soon be dead in the black water of space.

"Tell me what to do," you say.

"Press the third button to the left of the scoping system. It will mask us. Then turn and fly underneath the Deathglider. It will buy us a few minutes. Long enough to unlock my—"

"Okay, third button, got it." You're panting as the system starts making a blaring sound to warn you of the incoming projectile which is a huge ship hurtling towards you.

You press the button, flip the shuttle over, and dip under the Deathglider with what feels like moments to spare. You book it in the other direction, so concentrated on getting away that it takes you a while to notice that everything is invisible. Including yourself. The visual of space stretching above and beneath you, sparkling with stars, is impossibly beautiful. At the same time, not being able to see your body creates a disconnect with your brain, and your vision starts to go all funny.

"Press the red button!" Finally, there's some haste in that voice. You feel a warm ping of smugness.

"Huh... What button?" You mumble as your ears pop from the pressure. "What?"

"The red-" What comes after that is a jumble of Vathri that grates in your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

It's just enough to prevent you from falling asleep and remind you that you're in some kind of danger. The Vathri told you to do something... Your body moves like it's in a pool of syrup. You know your hands are there somewhere, but you can't see them and everything feels numb. You pat the invisible dashboard, poking at things. You press something and the shuttle powers down and starts to float, tipping belly-up like a bloated fish. With what feels like the last of your energy, you smack your hand down in the spot where you remember the red button to be.

Nothing happens, or so you think. Your eyes start to close. You're strapped into the seat, but it feels like the seatbelt came loose at some point and you're slipping. Your head seems to be drifting away from your body. Suddenly, blinding lights sting your eyes, which snap open and stream with prickling pain. You're coughing and gasping for air as the pressure lifts off of you and you're able to breathe again. The interior has returned, and the scenery of space is whizzing by outside the window as the shuttle flies. You unclip your seatbelt and stand, bumping into something.

It takes a moment for your vision to connect to your brain, which fires up with an enthusiastic thought: that's an absolute unit of an alien. The imprisoned Vathri is now standing right in front of you, leaning over the controls. You did it, you set him free. Your movements still feel a little wobbly, so when you lean in to see what he's doing, you sort of tip off balance against his side. He's warm and it's nice. He glances at you.

"Did you do it? Are we safe?" You ask.

"We have bought ourselves a few hours." He straightens and turns to you. "I apologize for the oversight with the cloaking. I did not realize it would affect you so."

"It's nothing a few minutes won't fix," you reply woozily.

Famous last words, because you end up passing out.

──────────────────

I'm aliveee! Passing out is the easiest way to close a scene but I think I use it too often. Oops? Also, are the spaceship shenanigans accurate to scifi? Don't know, don't care. I had lots of fun writing it and I intend to write more. I have another story somewhere that is very similar to this one. They're kind of the same idea that I just keep sort of rewriting until I'm happy with it? I think I'm happy with it now.

#exophilia #monster x reader #terato #monster lover #monster x human #monster #alien #2025 writing

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captain-price-unofficially · 2 years ago

Photo

Early MB Jeep armed with a M2HB Browning and a BAR

#improvised armor #Jeep #fast attack vehicles #wwii #western front

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indigoflorals · 2 years ago

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toxic - r.c (18+)

ex!rafe cameron x reader

your obsessive ex craves you

warnings: slight cnc, unprotected sex, oral, breeding kink, very rough sex, slight praise kink, toxic canon rafe warning </3

a/n: exbf! rafe won the poll <3 also! there is some terminology used to reference an american restaurant. if you are confused, the hostess is the person who seats guests, and the reader is a server/waitress <3

It was a Tuesday night, and the restaurant was slow. You had barely had any tables all night, and your tips had been bad. The hostess stepped into the kitchen where you were finishing up your break.

“I just sat one of your tables,” she frowned, pointing to a back corner, “Young guy, all on his own.” you turned, leaning to peak your head out of the kitchen. The table was empty.

“There’s nobody there.” you scoffed, taking a bite of your sandwich.

The hostess furrowed her brow, leaning out to view the table again. “Hmm,” she huffed, “He must have left.”

You walked out to the table to find the water the hostess had left empty, and a singular hundred dollar bill left for you.

The rest of your shift was slow, with you only having two more tables the entire night. The man at the corner table had never come back, and you didn’t worry about it.

“See you tomorrow,” you smiled, grabbing your bag and waving to the dishwasher. He smiled back, still sorting silverware. You checked the time again on your phone. 10:13. Still fifteen minutes to catch the last bus home.

You opened the back door to the restaurant, stepping out into the cool December air. Reaching into your bag for your sweater, you jumped at the sound of the door slamming behind you. Spinning around, you saw nothing. “It’s just the wind,” you exhaled, raising your arms to put on your sweater.

The moment you pulled your face through the head of the sweater, your felt a hand close in over your mouth. You tried to scream, but the hand pressed firmer. You wriggled and fought against the strong body behind you, but to no avail.

Your attacker leaned into your ear, holding you tight to his chest. “Relax baby,” Rafe cooed, laughing slightly at your clearly shaken up state, “Just me.”

He relaxed his grip, and you pulled free, panting, eyes wide. “What the fuck Rafe!” You half whispered half yelled, still very aware of the presence of your coworkers inside.

“I missed you. Wanted to see you,” he smiled, reaching a hand to cup your face. You slapped it away, staring at him in shock.

“So tried to fucking kidnap me?”

He huffed, extending a hand to you. “I was worried you’d get like this. Just let me give you a ride home.”

“You think I’m gonna get in your truck?” You growled, attempting to push past him.

He gripped your arm, stopping you. “Well,” he smirked, lifting his watch face to you, “It’s 10:23, and you won’t make it to the last bus in time now.”

You froze. How had the time gone by so fast? You were furious, partly because he had wasted your time and partly because he wasn’t wrong. You conceded, relaxing against his grip. “Okay. But you have to take me right home.”

“Of course, baby,” he nodded, pulling you towards where he was parked in the lot. You entered the vehicle in silence, placing your hands into your lap and your bag in front of you on the floor. You could feel his eyes on you.

“You look so beautiful,” Rafe raised a hand to touch your face but you swatted him away. He frowned, turned to start the car. “You know,” he huffed, driving to pull out of the lot, “You could be a little nicer to the person who’s taking you home.”

You glared at him. “You know why I’m not being nice to you.”

He rolled his eyes, “I told you I didn’t have sex with her. She only blew me. Plus you’re the only bitch I want.”

Before you could retort, you turned your eyes back to the road. This wasn’t the way home. “Rafe,” you slapped at his thigh, pointing out your window “My house is the other way.”

He didn’t reply, only sped up.

“Rafe,” you repeated, louder this time, “We’re going the wrong way.”

His eyes stayed on the road as he sped up again, “You’re staying with me tonight. Been so long since I’ve tasted that pussy.”

Your face flushed and you turned away from him. “No Rafe, I have an exam tomorrow, I need to–“

He shook his head, “I’ll take care of it. You just relax and come with me.” You stared at the bright lights of Tanneyhill as you pulled into the driveway. It had been months since you had seen it. Rafe put the truck in park, getting out to come to your door. He helped you down, pulling you into his arms.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” He pulled you into a quick kiss, “She meant nothing to me.” Your heart fluttered at his words. You really had missed him too. His strong arms enveloped you. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils. It was all so familiar.

You shivered a bit. “Can we go inside, Rafe?” Despite his warm body around you, the wind was tickling your skin. It was freezing.

“Of course,” he grinned, pulling his house key from his pocket and unlocking the door. He opened it quietly as not to disturb his sleeping family. He snaked an arm around your waist, ushering you inside ahead of him.

His home was dark despite a few small lights around the ceiling. It hardly mattered, because you knew the layout. You knew exactly where the stairs where even in the near pitch black as you walked up them, sliding your hand up the railing. You could hear Rafe’s footsteps behind you. Reaching the top of the steps, you knew also exactly which room was his in the minimal lighting. His arm snaked your waist again, leading you to the door. He pressed a kiss to your neck as you opened it. The two of you slid inside quietly, closing the door behind you.

Immediately he pushed you back against the closed door. You collided with it with a soft exhale, and the frame shook. You gasped, but where cut off by his lips on yours. You moaned into his mouth as his hands explored you body. Unhooking your bra, he slid his hands under it. He groped at the flesh of your tits, running his thumbs over your perked nipples. He broke the kiss to pull your shirt up and over your head.

“Look at you,” He whispered, leaning down to take your nipple into his mouth. You let ouf a soft moan, arching your chest into him. He reached around your body, pulling you harder into him. Releasing your nipple with a pop, he looked to you again. “My beautiful girl.”

Rafe took a step back before pulling his own shirt off. You stared at his muscular chest and arms, raising a hard to feel his bicep. He smirked, amused by your actions, “I’m all yours baby. You can feel me.” He took your hand in his, leading it down to cup his clothed erection. Your eyes widened.

“You’re so hard,” you whispered.

He nodded, a stern look cast over his face. “Now, kneel for me baby.” You submitted to Rafe without question, kneeling into the hardwood before him. He grinned, rough hand coming to your chin. “Good girl.”

You immediately reached to unbutton his pants, your hands shaking with excitement. It had been so long since you had tasted him. You pulled his pants and boxers down, exposing his cock already leaking with precum. Looking up to him, you batted your lashes. “Can I suck it, Rafe?”

He nodded, a blush coming to his cheeks. “Please.”

You leaned up to kiss the tip, taking it just past your lips. You felt a groan reverberate through your ex. Taking more of him, you used your tongue to prod the soft underside of his cock.

“Oh,” He moaned, hand coming to his mouth to quiet himself, “You’re doing so good, baby.” His hips bucked, cock thrusting farther into your mouth. You gagged on him, throat contracting around his tip.

Your eyes watered as you continued sucking and bobbing your head, Rafe’s fingers slotted into your hair as he gave shallow thrusts into your mouth.

Suddenly, he pulled his cock completely from your mouth. “Fuck,” He whined, cock twitching, “I wanna cum in your pussy baby.”

He helped you to your feet, kissing you again before pulling your jeans off. He lead you to the bed where you crawled on top of him to straddle him. “I don’t know if I can take all of you,” you blushed, “It’s been a while. You’re so big.”

A hand came to massage the fat of your ass as Rafe leaned his face into your neck. “I’ll be gentle, baby.” At his words, he pulled you down onto his cock. You cried out, the stretch burning with pain and pleasure. He was so big inside of you, his girth filling you to the brim.

“Rafe!” you cried, hips rocking into him, “It’s too much!” He pounded his cock into you mercilessly, and despite the pain, you could feel absolute pleasure inside of you.

Rafe’s free hand came to your face, pulling you to make eye contact. “You…are mine,” he grunted, fucking up into you, “Gonna fill up that pussy. Make you mine forever.”

You throbbed and clenched at his statement, sinking your nails into his shoulders. “Please Rafe, “ you cried.

You felt a warm sensation building in your tummy as Rafe fucked into you at a steady pace. His fingers came to your clit, and suddenly that warmth exploded. “I’m coming,” you whimpered, squeezing him.

His pupils blew wide at your words as he came inside of you, his thrusts going erratic. You felt the warmth pool inside of your pussy. His face was bright red and flushed, eyes trained on you.

As you both came down from your highs, you felt the guilt begin to sink in. “Fuck,” you groaned, climbing off of him, “Rafe, I need money for Plan B.” It hit you then that this was your cheating ex. He did happen to have good dick, but it was hardly worth it.

He shook his head, “I wasn’t kidding,” he scoffed, “You’re mine.”

tag list, reply to be added or removed:

@fangirlwithlou @officallyallyrose @cutesouls @alinaharlow @maybankslover @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @outerbankspov @lexexo @bbycowboi @ajaxisbae @palmwinemami @rafecameronsslxt @illicitfixations @faithforgottenlxnd @mvybanks @softcoremaybank @dudenhaaa27 @odussyeus @whoisdrewstarkey

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artificial-transmutations · 1 year ago

Text

Utopia

The sun was beaming down mercilessly on Trax as he climbed up the dusty rocks of the badlands. It didn't help much that his clothing was torn to rugs after the long journey or that his hands were calloused from the countless hours of climbing and shoving rocks and dirt. Still, the muscular and rugged man did not stop and climbed on, determined to reach the top of the hill. He didn't have too much choice. His water canteen was almost empty, only holding enough liquid for another half a day of hiking.

Trax stopped for a moment to wipe his brow and dry his hands on the very few scraps of clothing that were left from his shirt. Trax tried to control his breathing. His friends would surely have called him crazy, going into the badlands like this: Without preparation, without equipment and alone. Perhaps one or two of them would even have insisted on coming with him, to make sure he wasn't just throwing his life away. His friends really were awesome guys, Trax thought before correcting himself. No, that wasn't right. His friends had been awesome guys. Past tense. Another twinge of sadness darkened Trax' already bad mood. Truth be told, if his friends would still be around, he wouldn't even have considered taking on this crazy journey. But that was in the past. When the raiders on their bikes and trucks attacked Trax' settlement, many of the men, including every damn single one of his friends had been massacred. It had been a blood bath and Trax had only survived because he was out at the time, scavenging the industrial ruins nearby for supplies.

Having been born after the calamity and the subsequent wars, Trax knew fair well that surviving in the central European wasteland was difficult under the best circumstances. Having been heavily decimated by raiders, however, with most of the men dead it was nearly impossible. Most women and children had decided to leave, hoping to find a new place to settle or perhaps to find another settlement, where they might have a chance at a normal life. Not so Trax. Pretty much everyone had heard the story of Utopia. Utopia, the city of legends. Utopia, the safe haven. Grasping at straws, he set out for the badlands, in search of the mythical place.

Sighing, Trax got back to climbing, scaling the rest of the hill a bit more energetic now. After another half an hour, he finally reached the top of the hill, only to be rewarded with a wide view over a valley between the barren mountains. More importantly, though, Trax could hardly believe his eyes. Taking most of the space of the valley was a glass dome surrounded by a massive concrete and metal wall. Under the pristine glass that was reflecting the sunlight like a jewel, Trax could see a city. Not any city, mind you! Trax could see the green of trees and bushes between the high-rising spires, and the glittering of running water. He was able to make out some slight movement under the dome, probably from vehicles or even flying cars, and the air itself had a clean shimmer, almost like he imagined it when he heard the stories as a child.

Trax was mesmerized by the view, but at the same time, he didn't quite believe what he was seeing. He had really done it. He had reached the city of Utopia!

As fast as he could without breaking his legs, Trax scrambled down the hill and towards the impressive fortification. With each step, another thought became more and more prevalent. He had been so focused on finding the city that he had not yet thought of how to get in. From what he knew from the stories, Utopia had been a project of corporations and remnants of governments alike. A safe haven in the post-apocalyptic hellscape the continent had become. Of course, even though there were considerably less people than before the calamity, a single city would never be enough to house all survivors. So, the corporations chose a simple, yet proven concept of controlling who could get in: You had to pay for entry. It was ridiculously expensive, an amount of money Trax could not possibly earn in a hundred lifetimes. Enough to buy a bunch of settlements the size Trax' old home was. Of course, in the settlements, slums really, money didn't have too much meaning anymore. It was used for trading with other settlements, but apart from that, the concept of wealth had mainly meaning in the remains of the big cities. Even there, only a very elite few had been able to buy themselves entry into Utopia.

And now that *he* was here, standing in front of the massive concrete walls, it seemed like a stupid idea anyway. Who was he, a nobody, a mere scavenger, to try and demand entry to the city of dreams?

Well, he had to try. The gate in the concrete wall was massive. At least 20 meters tall and made of sturdy metal. Nobody was there, no guard or anyone really, which was not too surprising: Trax could hardly imagine anyone wanting to stand guard here, in the middle of nowhere, in the searing heat. Inside the huge gate was a smaller door, made from the same sturdy metal, with a computer console next to it. When Trax stepped closer, the terminal lit up. Trax was able to read, a skill that was sometimes necessary when scavenging the industrial ruins. However, he didn't have too much practice, so it took him a moment to decipher the three words on the surprisingly clean display: "Enter Entry Ticket".

Trax cursed. There was nothing else to be read, and even if there were, he would not have had any clue as to what he was supposed to do. He banged his fist against the door, and the sound reverberated off the nearby hills. However, there was no answer. Apparently, the entry in the city was fully automated and without an expensive ticket, there was no way to get in. Climbing up the concrete walls was pretty much impossible, and even if he managed to, he would only stand in front of the mighty glass dome.

Defeated, Trax slumped against the wall. It didn't make sense. He had made it all this way, had seen the city, had touched the very walls and yet, the city was still not within reach.

That's when he noticed another path, almost invisible under layers of dust and dirt. The main gate was well maintained and cleaned, but this path, going along the wall, had clearly not been used in decades. Perhaps there was still a chance to get into the city after all.

Trax followed the path for a few dozen meters before he noticed a faded writing on the concrete. The yellow paint was huge but aged and showed an arrow to the left. Under the arrow, Trax could read the words: "Lottery Winners, This Way".

Lottery winners. Something stirred in Trax' memory. Lottery. Yes, he remembered that part of the story. Of course, after announcing that only the richest of the rich were granted access to the city of dreams, there had been an outrage. Following that, and to soothe the masses, there had been a huge lottery where one thousand souls from all over the country were able to win a place in the city. It was said that whoever won the lottery left for Utopia and never came back - understandably so.

Apparently, the way he was following now was meant for the lottery winners. Trax felt a twinge of hope. Perhaps there was yet another way of getting into the city. It was a faint chance, but it was a chance.

Trax followed the path that was winding around the big walls until it ended in an archway that led down into the foundation of the concrete structure. It was a gaping black hole in the light concrete, but, and that was both surprising and like a miracle to Trax, not barred by a door.

He carefully entered the archway and waited for his vision to adopt to his now darker surroundings. There was enough sunlight coming in through the entry to discern that he was now standing in a long, concrete corridor, tilted a little bit downwards. Trax could vividly imagine a thousand people standing in queue in the broad corridor, but now his steps echoed from the blank wall. After a little while, electric lights flickered to live as he was nearing a fork in the corridor. It split into two, left and right, where the left was adorned with a black figure wearing a skirt, while the right one showed a similar figure wearing pants. The universal signs for male and female, as they were found on old restrooms as well. Without thinking too much about it, Trax turned right and went down the "male" path. After only a few more steps, he passed a heavy metal door, which stood widely into a medium sized room.

The room wasn't well maintained, but it was clear that this was a part of the technological marvels that kept the city running. It was crammed with pipes and cables, tubes and huge towers of technology that Trax couldn't really place. However, everything in here seemed dormant. There were no blinking lights, no beeping sounds or sound of liquids running through the pipes. Dormant, with one exception. In the center of the room, there stood a huge block of machinery, with two notable features. The first was a large screen at about eye level that was dark. The second thing was a hole in the block with a diameter of about 5-6 centimeters in diameter 80 centimeters above the ground, surrounded by a blue plastic ring. This ring was lit by some internal light source and was blinking slowly, as if it was breathing. Curiously, Trax stepped closer.

As he approached the block, two things happened at once. With a faint whirring sound, the machinery in front of him came alive and the display lit up. At the same time, a loud bang sounded from the entrance and the heavy door slammed shut, closing Trax in.

Trax could feel panic rising up but fought it down again quickly. Whatever was happening here was just standard procedure for the lottery winners. There was probably nothing to worry about. Instead, he looked at the screen. In big white flickering letters on green background, it read:

"Welcome Lottery Winner! Please enjoy yourself!"

Trax couldn't make sense of the message, so he took another look around the room. There was another, considerably larger door on the other side of the room, but it was closed shut as well, with no discernable way of opening it. While the room was crammed with technology, the only active thing Trax could see was the central block with the hole and the screen. "Please enjoy yourself!". What was that supposed to mean?

Trax cocked his head and took another long look at the block. The only other notable feature was the hole surrounded by the blue ring, about one leg length from the ground. Trax squatted down and took a closer look at it. The blue ring was still blinking, the hole itself was dark. When Trax looked into it, he could only see blackness. Carefully, he felt it with his finger and was surprised to find a smooth malleable surface that quickly warmed to the touch, not unlike silicon. When he extended his index finger deeper into the hole, he could feel the walls of the hole suddenly starting to move in a slow, wave-like motion.

Trax quickly withdrew his finger and the motion stopped. He cocked his head again. That surely couldn't be right. "Please enjoy yourself!". It couldn't possibly mean...

On the other hand, there were a lot of indicators. The hole in the block was at exactly the right height and had the right diameter. The message could very well be interpreted that way. This was a room designated for male lottery winners. And the doors closed, allowing for some privacy. Trax shook his head. This was crazy. What possible reason could there be that the designers of the city wanted the lottery winners to... jerk off before entering the city?

On the other hand, perhaps it wasn't even too stupid. Getting your rocks off, possibly after a long journey would help the newcomers to relax and see things calmer and more rational. It was unusual, sure, but possibly not a bad idea.

"Enjoy yourself!" the message still read.

"Fine!" Trax said. "If that's what you want, let's do this!"

He undid his belt, pulled his torn trousers and even more threadbare underwear down, and grabbed his soft dick. With a few quick strokes, he got it first half-hard, and then, when he was rigid enough, he directed his cock to the waiting hole. It wasn't too difficult to get hard to be honest. Trax hadn't had time to jerk off since the attack on his settlement, and now that he was finally safe and relaxed, he was able to unwind a little bit. He could feel his blood rushing down, and his dick got stiffer and harder, until the head of his dick was throbbing and ready to enter the tight hole.

Trax was panting and gasping as he shoved his dick forward, penetrating the warm, slick tunnel. He couldn't believe how good this felt. The hole was so soft and malleable and so very tight! Immediately, the movements started again, and Trax moaned with delight as his dick was surrounded by waves of pulsing, squeezing pressure. His cock was swallowed whole and pressed on the tight tube as if it wanted to milk his dick. Trax gasped again. There was absolutely no doubt that this device was meant for exactly this purpose. He stepped even closer to the block, until his shaft was buried in the masturbation aid to the hilt. Slowly, he pulled his dick back, feeling every inch of the wet, warm and tight sleeve until the head was resting against the entrance. Then, with a grunt, he shoved it back, making the machine squeal and his body shudder with the intense sensation.

This time, there was another whirring sound inside the machine, and the hole became a lot tighter as a strong suction became active around his cock.

"Fuuuuck..." Trax groaned. His legs were shaking as his shaft was being sucked on with incredible strength. This was so much better than jerking off! He tried to pull back to thrust his cock back in with force but found himself unable to. The suction was so strong that it just didn't allow any movement of his dick. So, all he could do was to stand there, trembling as the machine was milking his cock. He used both his hands to grab onto the machine block in order not to be too overwhelmed. Trax was so enthralled by the experience that he didn't notice the technology in the room turned itself on one by one. Before long, Trax was surrounded by whirring, squealing and clicking noises from all directions.

However, Trax did notice when both of his wrist where suddenly grabbed by cold metal grabs and jerked apart until his arms were forcefully extended left and right of his body. He tried to pull free, but the machine held him firmly. A second later, a metal strap shot out of the block, and forced his legs apart until his whole body was spread-eagled. Then, with a clang, the two straps were bolted to the floor.

Trax was unable to move, except for his hips, which were still being pleasured by the amazingly tight machine sleeve. Was this some kind of intruder detection? Still, the machine pleasuring his cock felt incredible and hadn't it been for the sudden attack of the machinery, he would already be close to cumming. Right now, however, Trax was looking left and right to the strong metal arms holding his wrists in place in increasing confusion and panic.

Then, something new happened. Accompanied by a mechanical whirr, Trax felt a prodding sensation at his exposed ass. Then, without much more of a warning, a silicon replica of a large cock rammed itself into his ass. Trax had secretly always fantasized about being intimate with another man, and, more importantly, to be fucked by another man, but he didn't expect to experience this sensation for the first time here, in all places. He didn't even have the chance to prepare himself, to stretch himself open. The cock, that was clearly made out of the same material as the masturbation aid, was thick and hard and the sudden penetration took his breath away and made him moan both from pain, surprise and pleasure.

The dildo was moving back and forth in a rhythmic pace, slowly, but with a steady mechanical strength. Despite the helpless situation, Trax felt he was in, the combined sensations were too much to bear. With a cry, he came, hard, into the machine, injecting spurt after spurt of his cum into the mechanism.

At the same time, he felt the dildo in his ass release a thick liquid into his intestines as well, leading to a strangely full feeling in his behind.

Trax' faint hope that now the machine would surely release him, however, quickly vanished. After his dick had spent the last drops of his load into the machine, the machine began to move alongside his dick again, the movements now accompanied by the slick feeling of his own sperm in the device. A moment later, the rhythmic fucking of his ass began anew. There was one change to before, though: The screen in front of him no longer showed the "Enjoy yourself" message but instead flickered with lightning fast strings of zeros and ones, each one displaying for little more than a millisecond.

Trax felt the strangest sensation as the dildo continued to fuck his ass. The semen, or whatever the machine was pumping into his bowels, was now acting as a lubricant and his ass was being fucked in the most pleasant way. At the same time, he felt a tingling sensation all over his body. He watched in amazement as all the little dark hairs on his body one after another fell to the ground like specks of dust. Trax had barely time to notice, though, as another grab from behind fixated his head to the screen in front of him.

Still, the strange sensation didn't stop there. Trax couldn't see it because he was unable to turn his head now, but he could almost feel his skin turning an unnatural gray - no, silver color. At the same time, his skin became harder and colder.

Trax groaned as his body suddenly expanded. He had been a fit, lean man, but now, his body changed so quickly it was almost like magic, accompanied by a churning feeling from within him. Again, he came, and again, more thick liquid was deposited into him as well, just as his bod became more and more bulky.

Trax' head was swimming. Somehow, the strings of binary numbers almost made sense to him. It was clear that something was planted into his brain, but he couldn't make sense of what exactly it was. However, there was one thing he could make sense of.

Trax had to serve Utopia. The thought appeared so quickly and so forcefully Trax couldn't help but say it out loud: "Serve... Utopia". What was going on?

He didn't have time to think about it further as his body expanded even more. His cock was still being squeezed and the dildo was still fucking him, and his muscles were burning from the constant strain, but the tingling sensation had not yet stopped. The skin on his arms and legs split open at the joints now. Around the parts that didn't need to move, cold and rigid metal plates formed now, while the joints were becoming flexible plastic. Trax could almost *feel* his bones become metal and his muscles being replaced by powerful servo motors. His chest had barreled out and the skin became a large metal casing. Inside, a whirring and clacking noise took place, before several valves formed at the side of his torso, leading to an internal oil tank.

Trax was acutely aware of all of that, but he couldn't react to it. His eyes were glued to the screen and with every passing number, Trax felt his own will being pushed away, replaced by a cold calculating logic, primed at a single motive.

"Serve Utopia", Trax said again and this time, his voice sounded different, almost artificial. The old Trax was still there of course - even as his head turned into the cold metal skull and his face was replaced by a red visor containing his sensory equipment, Trax original personality was perfectly preserved. He just couldn't help it. He had lost all control over his body, his voice and even his thoughts. He was being converted and there was nothing he could do. One last spurt of cum, the last remains of his human nature left his cock just before it turned into a set of tubes and electric connectors. The connector in his rear port deposited a last portion of nanobots and withdrew from the port after that. With that, the restraints holding his arms and legs released him at once. Unlike his flesh body from before however, Trax' new metal body didn't slump in on itself but stood unmoved due to its strong internal structure.

Trax wanted to turn around, to run away, but his body wouldn't obey his commands. Instead, another clear, pristine thought formed in his mind. "Connecting", Trax said in his new, mechanical voice.

Then, all of a sudden, his mind exploded and expanded. He was now *connected* to the city, to Utopia. Even more so, he was becoming a *part* of Utopia, one mechanical drone to serve the wealthy inhabitants of the city.

"Receiving new designation.... TRX-1001".

TRX-1001 quietly observed as the doors to the room sprung open. It withdrew its frontal groin connector from the conversion unit and stomped towards its assigned maintenance task.

As TRX-1001 entered the city of Utopia, Trax, who was still inside, was overcome by mixed feelings. He had really done it. He had reached the city of dreams. He had even become somewhat immortal, but at what cost. He had been reduced to little more than a subroutine in one of the thousand and one autonomous drones serving the city, toiling away day after day.

#male transformation #inanimate transformation

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chmpgneprblem · 1 year ago

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SNOWFALL OF HEARTS ; CORIOLANUS SNOW

pairing: coriolanus snow x tribute!oc part: two summary: coriolanus is torn between his harsh pursuit of victory and the growing warmth in his heart for erykah, his tribute from district 9 warnings: ooc coriolanus a/n: this series is gonna be super fluffy so if you're looking for angst I am not the person to go to!! idc if snow ends up being a little shithead I hate writing angst previous parts: one word count: 1.6k join taglist!!

A peacekeeper led Erykah to a train car. She climbed up and surveyed the area for her district partner. He was sitting in the corner waiting for her. She sat beside him for the ride, hoping that he would be an ally.

“That was your sister right? The one you volunteered for.” He inquired. The question woke Erykah up. “Yes, it was.” She mumbled, hoping to herself that she was doing okay. “I wish I had somebody that would do that for me…” the boy muttered more to himself than to Erykah. She didn’t question him further and instead rested her head on the boy’s bony shoulder.

She hadn’t seen her family before she left. That could be the last time she sees her sister. Why did I ignore her? She thought of her mother. What is she going to do without me? Will she take good care of her, or will she mess it up like last time? She tried to push her worried thoughts to the side as she picked at her nails. Please take care of her while I’m gone, she whispered to herself.

Coriolanus stood nervously at the train station waiting for his tribute. His heart was beating out of his chest as he paced alongside the train, hoping to see Erykah or the male tribute from her district.

At that moment he saw Panlo jump out of one of the train carts and lift his hands to Erykah’s waist to set her on the ground. Coriolanus was getting worse. He touched his blonde curls, hoping it would calm him down. It was no use. His heart was beating so fast he thought he was about to have a heart attack.

Erykah dusted her dress off after getting out of the train cart. She looked over at him with a confused look before turning to Panlo. “You can go along without me.” She muttered to him, smoothing her slightly frizzy hair before walking over to Coriolanus.

He nervously reached a white rose out to her, hands slightly shaking. “Welcome to the Capitol” He uttered to her with a grin. She took the rose out of his hand, brushing her fingertips against his. The feeling made him shiver.

She took a long smell of the flower before questioning him, “Why are you here?” Although the question sounded rude, her sweet voice showed she was just curious. “I’m your mentor… for the games” He answered her, nerves starting to slightly dissolve. She nodded slowly, seeming to be thinking to herself. “Well what can you do for me as a mentor other than bring me roses?” The brunette tilted her head slightly as she asked him.

“I do my best to take care of you”

She blushed a little upon hearing that from him. The comment gave her comfort. She smiled widely, “Well that’s very sweet of you…?” She paused, realizing he never told her his name. “Coriolanus. Coriolanus Snow.” He answered her question, not as nervous as before.

“It’s been great talking to you Coriolanus, but I’ve got to go!” She announced with a big toothy grin on her face. A peacekeeper had shown up behind her, pushing her toward a different vehicle, one Coriolanus recognized as a cattle car.

He sauntered after her as she got in the car. He walked along the train asking peacekeepers if he could ride with them. The two that previously stood outside the doors of the car, were now running after one of the male tributes that attempted to get away. Now was the chance, he thought to himself as he trod onto the car.

As soon as he got in, all the tributes were looking at him. Some with bloodthirsty eyes. Some with expressions of fear.

He stood there nervously as they continued to stare. “What’s wrong pretty boy? You in the wrong cage?” A man Coriolanus recognized as the tribute from district eleven asked him mockingly. “Get him Reaper.” He heard one of the other tributes mutter to him as Reaper strode up to Coriolanus, slamming him against the back wall of the car.

“I’ll kill you right now.” He declared aggressively. Some of the strong looking tributes got out of their seats and announced they all should. “Nothing left to lose now.” The tribute that tried to run away earlier stood up cracking his knuckles with a scowl on his face, seeming to be moments away from beating up Coriolanus.

“You got any family at home? Friends, maybe even a pet? They’ll be killed if you hurt him. Then you.” Erykah interrupts their conflict, attempting to defend Coriolanus. “Besides, he’s my mentor; I might need him,” She adds with a barely noticeable smile.

“How come you got one?” A girl with a short dark red haircut asks. Erykah didn’t know the answer, turning her gaze to the blonde for help. “You all get one.” He tried to comment calmly as Reaper was still pushing him against the wall.

“Well why aren’t ours here? How come flower girl here gets special treatment? Is it cause she volunteered?” She talked fast, poking fun at her for the incident at the reaping. “It doesn’t have anything to do with me volunteering. I guess yours just wasn’t inspired.” Erykah smarted back at her with a smirk.

The red haired girl looked like she was about to lunge at her when the cart started to shake. Everybody started to panic as the shaking got more and more aggressive. Coriolanus hung onto the back as it started to tip over. Erykah rushed out of her seat to get to him. She latched onto his right arm, he put that same arm around her waist to keep her from falling.

The cart tipped over completely. Coriolanus’ grip on the back of the cart loosened as he and Erykah fell down.

His eyes adjusted to the brightness of the outdoors as he realized where he was, the Capitol zoo. He looked around panicked, eyes meeting Erykah’s as she searched for his rose from earlier.

A man doing a news report seemed to finally notice his presence. “Excuse me sir! Who are you, and why are you in there with them? We’re live.” He gestured to the camera recording him.

Coriolanus panicked as he stood up. Erykah grabbed his arm bringing him back to reality. “Own it,” She muttered, looking up at him with big eyes as he breathed heavily. He nodded slightly at her, trying to calm himself down.

He took the rose from her hand and snapped the stem. He grabbed the loose curls on her face, tucking them behind her ears before putting the rose behind her ear as well. She gave a small smile up at him before taking his hand in hers.

They walked up to two young kids in the crowd, seeming to be siblings. “Hi there, what’s your name?” She knelt down to the children's level, still holding Coriolanus’ hand. “My name is Pontius, that’s my little sister Venus. She’s only four.” The young boy told Erykah. “I have a little sister too. She’s quite a bit older than yours though.” She told Pontius with a slightly sad smile.

“That’s really cool that you took her place. Someday I want to be as brave as you.” The little girl, Venus, spoke to Erykah. “Well you can be anything you want to be sweetheart.” She gave the girl a big smile. She reminds me of Maggy, she thought to herself.

She stopped her conversation with Venus to turn to the reporter. “And who might you be?” She questioned the reporter with a smile as she stood up, her hand letting go of Coriolanus’ to move to her hip.

“I’m Lucretius ‘Lucky’ Flickerman but more importantly, who might you be; Erykah from district 9.” He spoke to her in a very newscaster voice. “Well as you know my name is Erykah Thorpe. I do a little singing at a local bar in nine… Not much to know about me, I suppose!” She giggled and looked over at Coriolanus to see him with a smile.

“Well I’m sure the people in the Capitol would love to hear you sing, I know I would!” He talked to her enthusiastically. “I would love to!” She told him, partially for the cameras. Despite her love for music, the thought of singing for the Capitol made her feel weird.

“Do you know my mentor? He says his name is Coriolanus Snow, and I must have gotten the brightest star in the Dipper cause none of the other mentors decided to show up.” She told Lucky with a smile, grabbing Coriolanus and moving him lightly forward, attempting to change the subject.

“The game makers did tell you to jump in the cage with them…?” Lucky questioned Coriolanus. He tensed up at the comment. “They didn’t tell me not to. They just said that it was a mentor’s job to introduce our tributes to the citizens of Panem.” The way he spoke to Lucky almost sounded sarcastic. Erykah could tell the game makers got on his nerves. “And I thought if Erykah is brave enough to be here then why shouldn’t I be too.” He stopped talking to look down at her, who gave him a smile and a nod.

“Well it looks like you're about to be whisked away young man.” Lucky informed him in a slightly sarcastic voice. Coriolanus turned around to see two peacekeepers about to pull him away from the conversation. But Erykah stopped them, grabbing onto Coriolanus’ arm to say one final thing to him.

“Can you get me some food please? I haven’t eaten since before the reaping.” She asks Coriolanus, practically pleading with him. All he did was give her a soft nod, and he was pulled away. Can I really win this? She thought to herself as her only chance of survival walked away from her.

tags: @kkmikayla @specialk6802

#coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #thg #the hunger games fanfic

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xmorguekittyx · 9 months ago

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Chapter 1 : 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 & 𝘽𝙡𝙪𝙚

master list

Pattering, the sound of the rain pelting the windshield and the whooshing of wind kissing her windows had her heart feeling like it was in her throat. The pulsing of her heartbeat, she could almost taste it. "The National Weather Service has issued a tornado warning in these following counties-", shit. It never sees to fail that while she was the most nervous, things would continue to get worse and worse. Strikes of lightening lit up the soaked pavement, there was at least 30 more miles before she hit Raccoon City outskirts. She should've postponed heading out of town, but Desmond needed some Blood BeGone soap, which she had been sent to go deliver. The storm seemed to put everyone out of commission. It was a crying shame, honestly. "-IMPACTS... Flying debris will be dangerous to those caught without shelter. Mobile homes will be damaged or destroyed. Damage to roofs, windows, and vehicles will occur. Tree damage is likely. You are in a life-threatening situation. Flying debris may be deadly to those caught without shelter. Mobile homes will be destroyed. Considerable damage to homes...businesses...and vehicles is likely and complete destruction is possible.", Jesus, could things get worse?

They could; the storm seemed to be a little bit before schedule, her headlights illuminating branches and twigs laid over the pavement. The rain blurring the image as she leaned forwards, praying that the branches would grant her mercy and not wreak havoc on her tires. Surely, one thing had to go right, right? Maybe the gods could pass on a little favoritism. The road had to be cleared, but she would have to make it across, her eyes squint to try and find some distinguishable marker for her calling the sheriff's office once she gets back to the morgue. They should be able to stop traffic at least for the night, hopefully nobody has had to come through- a small gasp part her lips. Between the trees sat a blue Honda, the car having the trunk popped and, absolutely, nobody around. A sick feeling of unease crept up her throat as she eyed the car, analyzing, again, anything she could remember to tell police. Part of her wanted to jump out and make sure everything was okay, but the lights were shut off, she could only see it as her head lights shinned past it. It was just unfortunate timing; she could feel the gusts of wind trying to sway her car. Hopefully they had been picked up and just forgot the trunk, as much as that would suck; that was the best outcome. Especially with how bodies had been piling up at her job.

The anxiety she felt from the storm and car hit an all-time high as she heard the beginning of Nobody by Avenged Sevenfold start to play from her cupholder, jarring her already frazzled mind. The photo of Leon Kennedy flickering in her screen, it was from when her father had still been alive, working at the same police station Leon did. He passed right when Leon joined, but that had been a few years ago. No matter how much it felt like it was yesterday, time was moving fast, but she felt like she was being left behind. Her eyes glanced up at the road before she slammed on the breaks, a doe running across the street as her tires locked up, squealing as her phone fell into the floorboards. Hands fighting the steering wheel as she tried to steady the car and her heart. "I'll have a damn heart attack before I even make it back.", she sighed, her chest expanding to take in all the air she could. Nobody playing once more, had her nearly jumping out of her skin as she scrambled with the phone, scooping it from the floor. "Hello?", she held the phone to her ear, sitting in the car, she couldn't bare driving right now. Afraid was an understatement, it appears the gods found no favor for her, this night. "Where are you? Harvy has been blowing up my office phone demanding I start up a missing person's report.", his airy and slow voice drawled over the receiver. "Well...", her eyes went back through the droplet covered window. "The roads are getting worse, I've been having some trouble returning to the morgue.", she felt the air build up on her lungs before letting it out in a huff. "Hey- Leon?", she figured now was better than never to tell him all the shit that had gone on tonight. "There's a car up here on mile marker 37, trunk's open and lights are off. It's parked in the woods a little off the shoulder. You think you guys could come check it out and clear the road?", if they would tonight, would be the real question. "I'll head out first thing in the morning, it's unsafe to be out there right now. You said mile marker 37? There's a motel just a few roads south of you. If I were you, I'd stop in for the night, Kitty.", his voice sounded like honey poured on pancakes in the golden hour of sunrise. Hot coffee laying in the windowsill as the day started early on. Saying Katerina Visage had a crush on Leon Kennedy would've resulted in pink cheeks and embarrassed groans. Now, it left her wondering; what if?

"Yeah, I'll stop there for the night. I'll have to book it on foot, during this but-", her voice trailed off. "It's better than getting kidnapped or taken in a tornado in your car.", sometimes, he sounded like her dad. "It's... rough out here.", her voice was full of exhaustion. It felt like today had lasted the week, "You mind stopping by in the morning on your way to check things out? It would make me feel a little better just seeing you.", in all honesty, she was spooked. The storm, the car, the deer, the motel she'd never even heard of before. "Yeah, don't worry about that. First thing in the morning I'll be at that motel, waiting to take you back home. I'll get your car towed; Chief Iron's wouldn't want you paying for that.", he sounded like he was stretching, she was sure that it must've been a slow night for the men. The rain probably the only mischief Raccoon City had going on tonight. "Thank you, Leon. I don't know what I'd do without you.", her teeth sunk into the dead skin around her nails. "I guess I'm about to start walking, I'll message you once I get there, okay?", her voice was full of dread. The walk was not super familiar, especially in the dark with a nearly dead road. "Stay safe, Kit. Don't be afraid to call me if anything happens.", he had a soft tone with those words, Kitty remembered Leon being the rookie. She was 17 when she first saw the 21 year old, fresh from the academy walk into RPD. Her dad being one of the first to welcome him.

"My daughter put up a banner for you, we've all been excited to have you join.", he waved to the circle banner that read. 'Welcome Leon', the 'e' in Leon was twisted but she was so proud of hanging it. Her smile wide as she also introduced herself to the man, starting a friendship that grew over a mutual shared space.

Her father's passing brought them closer together, her father was always close with Leon. He had been the one to train him on the job. "Just get there and pray there's a room.", she sighed, before grabbing her charger, her phone, wallet and keys. Her body had to tense as she placed her hand on the handle, taking a deep breath of warm air and dryness. She had to just hurry, it was just a coincidence the car was abandoned, right?

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sunonyoreface · 3 months ago

Text

He Knows - Simon "Ghost" Riley Pt. 21

Word count: 5589

Warnings: minors dni, angst, military setting, explicit language, use of weapons, mentions of injuries and death.

My feelings towards Price are continuously conflicted. On one hand, he’s been very generous throughout my stay with 141. He seems to trust my word at face value and has offered me protection with Soap and Ghost. He also seemed genuinely impressed with my work as a translator, and then again with my performance on the phone with my father.

On the other hand, he is the entire reason I’m here. Sure, Ghost arranged everything, but Price is the man behind every step 141 takes. Nothing is done without his permission. My existence is simply a form of currency to him. My value relies on how much my father is willing to sacrifice for me. Markets are rarely stable in times of war. One wrong move, and the stock will tank faster than in 1929. I feel the dip approaching like a rollercoaster at the top of a hill. Imminent.

As he stands in front of me, Price has a welcoming presence, despite all of the atrocities he’s committed. Despite everything he has put me through to gain the upper hand on my father. Despite everything he is going to put me through.

His voice is soft as he speaks. We’re alone in my quarters. He leans against the dresser as I sit in bed with my legs pulled to my chest.

“We identified another rat,” a double agent. Another one of their supposedly well-vetted men who turned out to be a terrorist in disguise. His shoulders remain rigid and his arms cross over his chest. “He was in our transportation unit,” Price continues.

I search my mind for some of the faces I’ve come to recognize. There are too many to remember. I don’t know if I’ve even talked to any of the task force members in that unit. Everyone I know is an extension of Soap’s circle.

“What happened to him?” I ask.

“Nothing yet,” he answers. “We can’t risk tipping off the ultranationalists or the exchange being called off,” his thick English accent reminds me of a misty, fall day spent at a café. It’s cold, but there’s also something comforting about it - about him.

It makes sense how the ultranationalists always knew where we were. The mole could’ve tapped the vehicle GPS or tipped them off about which bases we were at. All of those attacks couldn’t have succeeded without him.

“Are there more of them?”

“Rats don’t lie alone,” there’s an underlying tone of disgust in his otherwise reserved voice. His message is loud and clear and more unnerving than ever. The men in 141 are even less trustworthy than I originally thought. “But I didn’t stop to visit about pest control.”

The air feels colder as the words leave his lips. My breathing pauses and the false ease of our conversation drops away like a theatre curtain.

“It’s happening, isn’t it?”

“Affirmative,” he confirms.

“When?” my soft voice is urgent.

“In fifteen minutes someone will drop off your gear. In forty-five you’ll get on the van. And in one hour we depart,” My chest clenches and I feel a nervous ball form in my stomach. I can’t believe how fast this is all happening. I’m not ready. I don’t have a plan to save myself if this all goes south. He doesn’t care if I live. Neither does my father. He might say he does, but he doesn’t, not really. I’m just an excuse for them to meet head to head. Just an excuse for them to pick a fight with one another. They don’t care what happens to me. Only I do. Price watches my reaction closely. I can tell he half-heartedly expects a breakdown.

“Will Soap come get me?”

“Soap’s team left an hour ago,” they’re gone already? Why’d they leave so early? Why aren’t they all leaving together? I know the answer I’ll get if I ask these questions. I turn my attention back to the exchange.

“What’ll happen when we get there?” Price shifts his weight. He’s a busy man. He doesn’t have additional time to stand here and let me quiz him.

“We’re meeting at an old landing strip in the forest just past the Russian boarder. The exchange will happen in the clearing. Only a few of us will be there for the handoff: Ghost, myself, and a couple other sergeants. The rest will be waiting in the surrounding woods on our side. But they won’t be alone. The ultranationalists will have men waiting on their side of the woods. In the event that this all goes South, you’re going to retreat to the defilade,” he takes a decisive step away from the dresser with his feet pointed towards the door. I don’t have much time to get any other information from him.

“Wait what’s a defilade?” the word stumbles across my lips.

“The men in the trees,” Price pauses. Like always he has the army green hat on his head and is dressed in partial camoflauge. “y/n, I’m not saying it’ll turn into a dogfight, but your father doesn’t exactly have the best track record. Be prepared for that possibility.”

I heed his warning closer than anything else he’s said all morning. Why is Price going through with this if he thinks its going to go to shit?

“I’ll see you soon enough,” There’s a knowing look to his face. Maybe it’s the way his eyes slightly squint or the ghost of a smile that tugs at his lips. It ambiguous. Comforting yet concerning.

Sure enough, within fifteen minutes, a member of the task force drops off a bullet proof vest and new clothes to change into. She is tall and wears a uniform almost identical to the one passed onto me.

“Once you’re dressed, I’ll escort you to transportation,” her voice is low and confident. There’s something reassuring about her presense and I’m just glad it isn’t Bennet or one of his friends taking me there.

After hastily throwing on the tactical gear and bulletproof vest, there’s still a piece of fabric sitting on my bed. When I pick it up I recognize the familiar black, fabric bag from several weeks ago. They’re blindfolding me again. Its eerily soft between my clenched fingers. I can’t fucking believe they’re doing this to me again. After everything, why now?

If Ghost was here, would he make me wear it too? Or is this all Price’s doing?

Her firm hand rests on my upper arm as she leads me throughout the compound. Soon the smell of gas filters through the mask and I hear the rumble of multiple engines. People are talking. Orders are barked from one person to the next. Gear is being loaded onto vehicles. Metal clinks and clashes against each other. Everything is in motion.

And then I hear his voice.

Ghost’s distinct tone cuts clearly through the air. It’s powerful and travels with a force that is impossible to ignore. I can pinpoint the exact moment he notices me. The orders he’s giving briefly falter. Then he’s approaching the sergeant and informing her he’s got it from here.

His strong hand replaces her’s. I imagine the warmth of Ghost’s hand through his glove and my sleeve. Ghost’s chest brushes against my shoulder as he leans down to speak. I blindly await his words, only imagining what we look like to the rest of the soldiers. Will they even notice or are they too preoccupied right now?

“You’re riding with me. Don’t say anything. The blindfold will come off once we arrive,”

“Where is th-“

“Don’t. Speak.” Ghost lowly cuts me off.

The van reminds me of the one before. Similarily, I think we’re strapped in against the walls of the vehicle. But I can’t tell for sure.

Ghost quickly buckles me in. His fingers are fast, yet cautious. He takes care not to pinch my skin between the clasps. For a second it almost feels like he’s lingering just to touch me longer. My remaining anger towards him melts for a moment. In a strange environment where I’m stripped of my senses, he’s the only thing that’s familiar. He’s the only one I might just be able to trust.

There are low murmurs amongst the other task members, but not the cheerful kind like before. These are the types of conversations reserved for before high-risk missions. Conversations that hum just above a whisper. They know not everyone will return. You can hear it in their voices.

The van rocks back and forth as we drive. Ghost’s thigh presses against my own. I melt into his side. The firmness of his strength is a reassuring senestion. My hand rests between our legs as my thumb gently traces back and forth along his pantleg. I wonder if he can feel it? I wonder if he knows how this is going to end?

The terrain progressively deteriorates from pavement to gravel to dirt to something far more unpredictable. When the van suddenly stops there’s a split second of absolute stillness. It only lasts for a single breath. Then, it’s go time.

The clicking sounds of seatbelts fill the air. Orders are reaffirmed down the line. Shuffling bodies exit the van. Cold air wafts through the doors.

The blindfold is harshly yanked off my head. Ghost’s calm eyes latch onto mine. In the sea of chaos flowing around us, he remains anchored.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Ghost only nods once, his eyes telling me all I need to know.

Thick forest surrounds us as teams of armed men meticulously clear the surrounding area. It’s daylight, but the shadows of the trees make it feel like dusk. The snow crunches under my feet and bitter air bites at my skin as visible clouds form when I exhale. We’re back in Russia. Ultranationalist territory.

Price appears from another van followed by a formation of armed men who surround Ghost and myself.

“We’re clear. Their men have claimed their half and the rest are waiting on the flat.”

“How many?” Ghost asks, his hand is glued to the automatic riffle clipped to his vest. His eyes continuously scan the area for threats. Everyone is on high alert. Something is happening behind the scnenes that I don’t know about. I can just tell.

“Half a dozen,” Price responds.

“Beyond the zone of action?”

“TAC estimates about fifty,” Price’s attention is entirely on Ghost. He trusts his opinion more than anyone else on the task force.

“We’re outnumbered,” Ghost’s jaw clenches under the skull mask. His response is short and matter-of-fact. He doesn’t like this. “Update on demolitions?”

“They’re ready,” Price smirks knowingly. What the hell have they got planned? Where is Soap?

Ghost processes what Price has just said. Despite his hesitancy he seems to find some reassurance in Price’s words.

“Right. Y/n,” my eyes are already on Price. “When we go out there, you stay in the detail circle until instructed otherwise. Keep your act up. Sell it to your father. If something happens, retreat to the West side of the flat,” his instructions echo between my ears. This is real. This is happening.

“Affirmative,” I force my chin up.

Then like no time has passed at all, we march as a unit through the trees into a long opening. It’s an old landing strip once used for planes with an abandoned hangar at the far side of the field. The sun gleams through the opening in the trees and reflects off the snow. The brightness hurts my eyes at firt, but then as they adjust, I see several men gathered at a table in the center of the air strip. Its them. It’s him.

Fear pummels through my veins. It’s violent and demands my attention. Every sense feels heightened. Dread fills my body and weighs me down like iron restraints.

It takes everything I have to push myself forward. Every action feels forced. Snow sinks up to my shins as we walk, adding extra resistance. The space is large, spanning multiple football fields. I feel their eyes on us from a hundred meters away. I don’t think I can stomach seeing my father after everything.

The tension is killing me.

Four men surround me as Price and Ghost lead them towards the group. The Ultranationalists have more men at their station, but some of them must be the prisoners theyre supposed to exchange.

At least that’s what I think until Price clears his throat. “You’re missing three sergeants,” His voice sounds different than I’m used to: louder, demanding, dangerous.

“No one’s missing, Captain Price.” My father’s all too familiar voice reaches my ears. “I assume it’s Captain Price, you didn’t exactly leave room for introductions.” it’s warm and relaxed. “They’re resting just beyond the treeline. We only wanted to garuntee your honest intentions before bringing them out,” he sounds completely in control, with his attention completely on Price. It gives me a moment to really look at him.

I haven’t seen my father in weeks and while he looks exactly the same, I can barely recognize the man in front of us. His beard is longer, but still well groomed. He’s dressed in dark greens and greys, the same as the other Ultranationalists. A toque covers his head and a warm winter jacket is hugged by a bullet proof vest. A chest holster hides a gun while his hands remain open and falsely inviting. His eyes look darker than normal. He must be tired. Or maybe it’s hidden rage that gives them that look. I can’t tell anymore. He isn’t the person I once thought I knew, that much is certain.

Our eyes meet and my blood runs cold.

“Dad?” my voice croaks. Price’s reminder to play into the traumatized daughter act weighs on my shoulders. Suspicious eyes square me up from every angle. There isn’t a single person here who fully trusts me. One wrong word and we could all end up dead.

“Y/n?” his brows furrow as his head cranes in my direction. “Y/n, are you okay? Just be patient darling, you’ll be safe soon,” I note how he chooses his words to influence my emotions. How many times has he done this before without me noticing?

“Right, lets cut to the chase then, bring the rest of my men out and she’s all yours,” Price says. I watch as my father eyes him up for a second and then nods in agreement. He barks an order in Russian to one of the men behind him who repeats it into a transmitter.

Then Price steps to the side, opening up a hole in the baracade of men surrounding me. Ghost does the same as he turns and our eyes lock. Under the skull mask I see his lower lids tense with suspicion. He doesn’t trust the Ultranationalists. Every person here has conflicting goals and values. No one is safe.

I can’t look at him for long. Beyond them, someone else expects me.

I take off running into his arms and hot, genuine tears fall from my eyes and freeze to my cheeks. As his arms wrap around me, I can’t hide the shudder of terror that ripples down my spine. It’s becoming harder and harder to separate my father from his actions. When I close my eyes, I see the footage of him ordering the execution of hundreds of vulnerable people. “I’m scared, Dad,” the hushed truth leaves my lips and brushes against the fabric of his coat. He doesn’t react to my words.

“Those aren’t my men,” A type of hollow furry reverberates through Price’s chest. A realization. A confirmation. They let me go too soon. Now I’m in my father’s arms, while the men marching towards them are more Ultranationalists. Not the taken 141 soldiers.

“Oh, don’t worry about them,” he says with his arms still wrapped around me,” as I look over his soulder and past his soldiers, I see more men dressed in grey and green emerge past the treeline and stalk in our direction, guns in hand.

I hear Ghost whisper something into his com. I wonder how many guns are trained on us right now? How many snipers are hidden in the trees waiting for clearance?

“You don’t get to change the conditions of the exchange last minute.”

“I suppose you’re right. That’s not normally how we do things,” my father finally releases me from the hug. His leather glove wipes the tears from my face. The empty, almost irritated look in his eyes tells me he isn’t satisfied. “We don’t typically go through the effort of an exchange. However, Captain Price, these are unique circumstances. Yet, I can’t help the feeling that you are getting a better deal than we are. Look at all these men you’re getting. They’re incredibly valuable to us. They know a lot of information. Information that could hurt a lot of people. Not to mention your men who will be returned to you, once we adjust our terms, of course.”

“Is her life not valuable enough to you?” Ghost’s voice booms across the snow. It’s the first time he’s spoken since arriving. His official introduction to my father. In another life, I wonder if they’d like each other?

“Of course it is,” he brings a hand to his heart and holds onto my arm with the other. It isn’t. I feel his grip tighten. “But that doesn’t mean this is a fair trade,” My stomach drops. He just confirmed everything I’ve feared without directly saying it. My life doesn’t matter as much as having an advantage on 141. He wants more. That greedy fucking bastard.

“What is then?” Price demands.

“You,” he answers. “And several lieutenants. Then we’re getting somewhere.”

“Negative. Never going to fucking happen. Get that through your thick, Russian skull,” large clouds form in plumes as Price’s burning words meet the arctic air. I sense the tension rising as more Ultranationalists approach the group. We were already outnumbered. Now it’s at least two to one. Why haven’t they called backup yet?

“It will. Wilingly or not,” there it is. The underlying threat of violence that has simmered just under the surface of this entire meeting has finally emerged. The Ultranationalists are more than willing to fight. Maybe they’re even counting on it.

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Price sneers. I spare a glance in Ghost’s direction to find his eyes already on me. They’re unreadable. He’s never felt so far away.

“Yeah? What’s that?” my father’s cocky voice bites back. This entire time I feel his hands tighten around my arm as though my winter jacket isn’t there. The heavy vest weighs me down. The cold air hurts my skin. Everything feels off. And just when my attention is focused on every uncomfortable detail, Price’s words cut through the air with such clarity they almost don’t sound real.

“If you don’t follow through with our original deal, your wife will die.”

I feel my father freeze. His molten iron grip solidifies. At the same time my heart drops and it feels like I’m falling. My mom? 141 has my mom? My eyes flicker to Ghost, but he won’t look at me. He lied to me. Again. He fucking lied. Ghost had every opportunity to tell me and he didn’t. My cheeks flush with betrayal. After all this time… How could I be so stupid to trust him?

“That’s impossible,” for the first time, my father looks genuinely rattled. The Ultranationalists were supposed to have a team in New York to protect her. She would be almost untouchable. Yet, Price reaches into a large pouch on his vest and pulls out a tablet. On the screen is a livestreamed video of my mom tied to a chair in our family livingroom. The surge of panick that courses through my veins is indescribable.

Somehow, they did it.

“Go get my men,” Price lowly orders and I don’t doubt for a second he’d kill me or my mom to get what he wants. It’s a terrifying realization. He is willing to do anything to protect his task force. All notions of morals and ethics fly out the door when it comes to his men. Bennet was right. I’m not safe with them.

More orders fly out of my father’s mouth in Russian which are then repeated through the transmitter. All eyes are on the treeline waiting for the captured task force members to emerge.

I can’t bring myself to look at Ghost again. Not after this. Not after such a devastating betrayal.

Just as they emerge from the trees, a popping noise behind us in the distance snags my attention. I turn my head just before the men do, seeing nothing. But that noise, that unmistakable noise can only be one damning thing.

Just like that, all bets are off the table.

I’m yanked behind the line of Untranationalists as each side raises their weapons at each other. The line hudles together and pushes back towards the trees as men from each side scream orders and threats at each other.

Over the shoulders of the Ultranationalists, I briefly see the six task members shift into formation, covering all angles. Price yells out something about their men and I realize they didn’t get ahold of the promised Ultranationalists or their captured soldiers. They are leaving completely empty handed, with the exception of my mom. If this doesn’t turn around, they’ll kill her. Nausea floods my stomach. I feel the blood leave my face. If I wasn’t being pushed back by my father, I would be sick right now.

The distinct sounds take me back to the night the Ultranationalists ambushed 141’s base. I’d never heard gunfire so close before, but that’s nothing compared to now. What once originated on the other side of the field, now sounds to be only meters away.

Price said if I get the chance, to escape to the West side, but right now, that’s impossible. And if I’m being honest, I don’t know that it’s any safer than being with my father. Nowhere is safe. The forest is crawling with armed men and even if I did escape, everyone would be looking for me and I don’t have anything to defend myself with.

“They’re moving forward!” I hear someone yell in Russian. We’re just entering the treeline as more men flood around us and then break into smaller groups. Everything is so completely chaotic and yet seemingly rehersed.

My lungs burn and for a moment I forget how cold it is outside. Adrenaline and panic fight with eachother as I try to distinguish what to focus on. So much is happening. I completely forget about my father’s grip on my arm.

“Y/n,” he braces my shoulders, encouraging me to look at him. His eyes are wide with excitement. I feel like I’m going to be sick looking at him. “Everything is going to be alright dear, we’ll escape to the trucks. Alright? Just follow me, okay?” I manage a small nod.

I’m yanked forward as we run through the trees. The group of men with us switched from those on the field and now there are only four additional Ultranationalists escorting us. I don’t know how long my father pulls me along for. It feels like miles and hours, but can’t be more than a few minutes.

A loud eruption shakes the ground as snow and dirt fly through the air and a tree crashes beside us. Holy fuck, that was close.

Smoke clouds the air as people shout and bullets fly. The scene can only be described as a deadly, gorilla clusterfuck with the goal of taking out as many people from the other side as possible. We are in an incredibly dangerous position.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, one of the escorts is shot in the leg and drops to the ground. Red stains the snow around him. My father yells in Russian to keep going.

We weave through the thick pines and any sense of direction I once had is gone. My heart thunders in my chest.

A loud shot rings through the air and another Ultranationalist drops to the ground. A second shot sends a bullet through his skull.

Someone is following us. Stalking us. Toying with us. My gut turns.

For a second, I wonder if it’s a sniper.

Then, a knife comes flying through the air, lodging itself into the back of the third of my father’s men.

It’s in this moment, I know exactly who is after us. After me.

The last soldier turns around and fires blindly into the trees behind us. As soon as his clip is empty and he pauses to reload, a single bullet pummels through the trees and it too, pierces his skull and stains the snow a brilliant red. His body slumps to the ground with a muffled thump.

My father pushes us behind the trunk of a large tree and grips his handgun in both hands. He doesn’t need to tell me to be quiet. I don’t think I could make a sound if I tried.

The sounds of gunfire and explosions echo in the distance, but there’s nothing close to us like there was before. The majority of the fighting is taking place closer to the air strip.

The only place Ghost ever struggled with stealth, is in the snow. There’s no technology in the world that’ll muffle the sound of his footsteps strategically approaching the tree we’re hiding behind. You can hear the frigidness in the air as the crunching snow gets louder. He’s close.

“Throw your weapons to the side of the tree and then slowly step out with your hands in the air,” Ghost’s demanding voice fills the air. A dissatisfied grumble ripples through my father’s chest. I shift to move from behind the tree and a large hand snags the back of my vest, pulling me back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses.

I bite my tongue. He doesn’t know Ghost like I do. There’s no escaping him. The best I can hope for is that he doesn’t want to kill either of us.

“I won’t repeat myself,” his voice sounds closer already. I can imagine him on the other side of the tree with his assault riffle pointed in our direction. Part of me wants to believe he wouldn’t fire on us. But I honestly don’t know anymore.

“Forgive me darling,” the hushed words come as my father wraps his arms around me from behind. He pulls me against his chest and presses the barrel of his gun to my temple before stepping out from behind the tree.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the panicked words bubble up my throat as I try and escape his deathly grasp. I twist and throw my weight around, but it’s no use. Even with one hand occupied, he’s simply too strong. “Let go!” The barrel of the gun bumps against my head as hysteria begins to cloud my better judgement.

Just feet away, Ghost stands with his weapon aimed directly at me. At some point he clipped the riffle to his vest and switched to his handgun. Behind the daunting skull mask, his narrowed eyes calculate our every move with extreme precision.

I’ve heard the rumors about Ghost. Caught wind of whispers detailing the horrors he’s capable of. I’ve even witnessed some of the brutality myself working as his translator. Yet none of that cruelty was ever directed toward me. Now, I find myself looking directly down the barrel of his gun. There is no escaping Ghost’s wrath. There’s no escaping my father’s wrath.

“Put the gun down,” he calmly instructs my father. There’s something different about his voice. Something tense. I notice a stiffness about his posture that isn’t usually there. I’m not the only one who picks up on his behaviour either.

“So that bastard was right,” spite laces my father’s voice. His hot words travel down the back of my neck as his arm wraps tighter around my chest. “You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

I blink. My mouth dries up and I’m left speechless. How the hell does he know? How did Bennet know? Who else knows?

“No, dad-” the words start to tumble out of my mouth.

“Don’t lie to me, little bird,” his tone is venomous. I’m a traitor to him. Sleeping with his enemy. “You fucking whore.”

Tears prick my eyes. His words stun me and I can’t help the self loathing that weighs down my shoulders.

“Let her go or I’ll shoot,” fearful tremors shake my body. My vision starts to blur with emotion. I’ve never felt so scared in my life. I truly may not survive this.

“Then what?” he sneers “You’ll kill me anyways.”

“If you don’t, your wife will die,” the ultimatum is clear. “Is she really worth it?” Ghost’s words sting like never before. I wish one of them would make a decision, put me out of my misery.

Then, as if without thinking at all, my father releases me from his grip and takes a large step back. My weak knees barely hold my shaking body and when I turn around to face him, I truly don’t recognize the man in front of me anymore. Hundreds of burning questions ache for air, but the only one that escapes my lips begs for the devastating truth.

“Do you- do you even love me?” I force myself to make eye contact with him. From the very start of this horrifying journey, something has been missing. Like I was trying to read a misprinted book.

My father purses his lips and furrows his brows. I know the answer when our eyes meet. Not now. Certainly not after betraying him like he thinks I did. He inhales like he’s about to answer when three deafening gunshots pierce the air. I feel the bullets whiz through the air beside my head and watch as one tears through my father’s arm and two hit him in the shoulder. His gun falls to the ground and his eyes buldge as he realizes what just happened.

Ghost rushes past me and tackles my father to the ground. He forces his arms behind his back, despite the bleeding wounds, and zipties his hands together. He groans empty threats, but they’re so muffled I can’t make them out. None of this feels real. Every part of my body feels numb and full of static. Breathing becomes increasingly difficult.

Ghost stuffs my father’s mouth with a gag and then covers his head with a black bag. I try to tune out the harrowing sounds of his muffled moans and the distant gunfire and explosions. I feel a panick attack building under the surface of my skin. This is all too much. My knees finally give in.

“Y/n? Y/n,” Ghost’s voice softens as he abandons my father for me. His gloved hands are gentle as they embrace both sides of my head. I flinch away from his touch, causing him to falter. “You’re safe y/n, I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe,” he crouches to the ground beside me and pulls me against his bulky chest. I missed feeling his warmth so damn bad. I want to trust him. God do I want to, but all he does is lie to me. “We just have to get closer to the runway. Then the extraction team will get us out of here,” he strokes my hair as he speaks.

I’m not ready when he pulls us up from our position on the ground, but there’s no time to be ready. Every second we waste in the forest - in Ultranationalist territory - is another second we risk running into more of their soldiers.

Someone is going to notice my father’s absence, if they haven’t already. And they will come looking, if they haven’t already. In which case we are in even more danger.

Ghost lifts my father to his feet and forces him to walk, at times roughly pushing him ahead. Watching them makes my stomach twist into a knot. I can’t believe I haven’t thrown up yet.

He switches the handgun for his automatic riffle again and uses the sight to scope out the surrounding woods.

I have no idea where we are, yet Ghost seems to know the exact path to our destination.

Twice, he takes out multiple men in the distance before they can spot us, but our treck back is otherwise eerily silent.

I don’t remember waiting for the chopter or boarding or the ride back to Latvia. But I do remember the pained sounds escaping my father’s chest as he sits across from me, still blindfolded.

I completely forgot about Soap’s absence admidst clusterfuck of everything else going on. That’s until I hear another member of the task force briefing Ghost on a separate attack they planned to take place while the exchange was happening. The whirling of the helicopter makes it almost impossible make out their words, but Ghost’s eyes give away everything.

“He was injured sir. Badly. He lost a lot of blood on the way back to base and they didn’t have the equipment to operate in the air,” I feel my heart rate pick up and watch as Ghost completely freezes.

I don’t hear what Ghost asks him next. I do however, see the soldier shake his head with remorse.

Dread consumes me.

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