#i will be first in line to piss on his grave

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

1.7k / 21 / soap soulmate au, part 2

...

Unfortunately, Ghost finds you before Soap does.

Ghost yanks you by the elbow, cuffs around your wrists, dragging you to an unmarked military vehicle, pistol in hand.

"Where are you taking me?" you ask him.

He shoves you into the back seat and slams the door, gets in on the other side and starts the car up. You right yourself, having been shoved hard enough for your ribs to bounce off the leather seats.

He answers without looking at you. "The base." Curt, cold, and pissed. He drops the gun barrel-down into the cup holder.

"We just left the base."

"Huh. So we did." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Ain't that funny."

There’s a chance he’s not 141. As if there’s some other brick shithouse of a man who wears a skull balaclava around.

You shift in your seat. "What do you want from me?"

“Nothin' that'll feel good, I can tell ya that." He rests his elbow on the center console. “We’re gonna have a long talk."

"And then what?"

“Dunno. Maybe a bullet. Depends on how much you piss me off. Got a lot of questions to ask you first.”

Great.

You look around. This isn’t a police vehicle. Barely a military vehicle. There’s no barrier between you and that gun in the front seat cupholder. But you’re not an idiot. He knows you won't go for it, too, but he wants you to try.

You lean back, looking out the window at your side. "You can still turn yourself in. You don’t need to resort to hostages.”

“I made my choice. Not a difficult choice, considering how corrupt Shadow Company is."

“Orders are orders.”

“You always follow orders to arrest your friends, no questions asked?”

“When there’s good reason to.”

"Good reason, my ass. You're just a mindless dog, doing whatever Graves says. You think he'll protect you from the consequences of his actions? He'll toss you to the wolves in a heartbeat if it means saving his own sorry ass."

"That's not true."

"It's the mercenary way, innit. Sell yourself to the highest bidder and tell yourself orders are orders."

You brace one boot on the other, slowly working one foot free from inside. "Military’s the same. Only difference between us is you're salaried."

“I fight for a cause. Can’t say the same for your line of work. All you know how to do is gun targets down for cash and a little approval from your boss. Pathetic.”

Your heel slides loose. “No cause is clean. You can’t tell me you’ve never seen corruption in your line of work. Or a bad call. Or an unnecessary death.”

He grips the wheel, glaring at you in the mirror. “Doesn’t make it right. Sure as hell doesn’t mean you turn a blind eye to goddamn betrayal in your own ranks.”

“Some bureaucrat in a suit fumbling the bag and trying to right wrongs doesn’t make us corrupt. Graves knows what he’s doing—"

"So you knew."

Your jaw snaps closed mid-sentence. Shit.

He's staring right at you in the rearview mirror, eyes so cold they could freeze the breath in your lungs. "You knew about Shepherd. Didn't you?"

You swallow, looking away from the mirror and out the window. Your left foot finally comes free, and you shift subtly to brace your heel on your right boot, beginning to work your right foot loose next. "Doesn't matter."

“You followed orders to turn on your own allies, knowing they came from Shepherd. Knowing all he cares about is covering his own mistakes." He grips and re-grips the wheel slowly, as if he's thinking hard about picking up that handgun and ending your life in a ditch somewhere. "Welcomed us into a slaughterhouse for a fistful of cash. Bet you sleep real easy at night."

You trust Graves. He’s never steered you wrong. You were doing the right thing by following orders. That mantra is stuck in your throat. You want it to be true, but then there’s Johnny.

Ghost hasn't mentioned him by name. The Shadows never found him—he got away—but you don't dare let yourself think about the implications of him being alive and knowing about you. You put it out of your mind as soon as the thought surfaces, even. You made a deal with yourself that you'd never dwell on it again. Much less ask his very hostile squadmate about it. You’re not about to offer your arteries up to a butcher.

"Shepherd is in your chain of command, too."

"Not anymore. You and yours made sure of that."

"You didn't have to defect. Commander Graves asked you to come quietly. You would've been fine. You didn't do anything wrong, right?” You hear an edge in your tone and blunt it back down. "You didn't have anything to hide. But you turned it into a firefight."

"You realize you’re defending the bastard that sold out me and my team. You think I'd lay down, let him put us in some jail cell to rot for the rest of our days? I've seen too many people follow orders, trusting that everyone above them has their best interests at heart. Seen more than a few of them get punished at the hands of men like Shepherd. I'm not giving him another chance to betray me.” You still feel his eyes on you in the mirror, but you don't look. "You never once stopped and questioned what you were told to do? Or did it not matter because your loyalty was to your company, not the right thing?" His voice is flat. "That's the difference between me and you. I don't look for excuses to feel better about my actions. And I damn sure don't turn my gun on my allies.”

Your stomach curls with discomfort. "You had a choice. You knew how this would end for you."

"Rather be a wanted criminal for the right reasons than a gun being pointed at whoever Shepherd wants dead. And wouldn't you know it--I'm in damn good company, too. Turns out sticking to a moral code earns you a little more loyalty than payin’ cash. But you want to know what the best part of being a criminal is?" He taps out an odd little tune on the wheel, but there’s nothing warm or cute about it. The loaded gun would be friendlier to contend with. “I don’t have to follow Shepherd’s orders. I’m free to deal with this little problem as I see fit, and no one can tell me I’m wrong. If I kill some mercenaries who would arrest me on sight, that's just the unfortunate collateral damage that comes with my newfound freedom and your buddies following orders."

You consider that for a long moment. “So when do you plan to kill me?”

"Depends on whether or not I like what I hear in the next couple of hours. Might change my mind in that time. Might not." He takes his hand off the steering wheel to lean back a little. The road is empty, stretching long into the horizon. "The more I hear you talk, the more I feel like shooting you just for the sake of it. But I've got too many questions for that, so..." He lets the implied you live for now hang in the air, then taps the wheel again. "We'll see how the rest of this convo goes."

You manage to slide your right heel free. You glance up to see him looking at you in the mirror again. Your heart skips. You think he's caught you. But he doesn't say anything, and you realize he's just examining you, mulling something over.

“I don’t know what you think I can tell you, but I don’t know anything,” you say.

“Why don’t you just stay quiet and think about all that stuff you don’t know. Maybe we’ll starve you until you talk; maybe we’ll grease your palms. That’s how you operate, hm?”

He’s trying to make you angry, make you take the bait, but you don’t. You know what you are.

You keep both feet carefully lowered into your boots so as not to rouse suspicion. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you and your buddy got hurt.”

That seems to catch him off guard. He frowns. A beat passes where he doesn't say anything, just watches you. Not angry or suspicious, just... calculating. "Not worth much. And his name is Johnny. But you knew that, didn't you?"

You look away. Ghost's cell phone rings.

The sound pulls his attention away from you. He glances down at the display with a frown.

"On with Ghost." A short reply. "Yeah, I got her. About three hours out." He glances at you once as the person on the other line says something else, but after a few more seconds, you can tell he's more concerned with what they're saying than with you.

This is your chance.

With his eyes fixed on the road, you silently pull your cuffed arms under you, lifting your feet deftly through the loop of your arms.

You glance down at the gun one more time. He’s holding the phone with his left hand; driving with his right. Still, even with your hands in front of you, you’re cuffed. You won’t have a chance if you go for that gun and he gets it away from you. It won’t end well.

Plan B, then.

You push your feet back into your boots and slide yourself behind his seat.

"Hey!"

Drill Sergent voice. Busted.

He hits the brakes, drops his phone, and reaches for the pistol.

You slam your feet into the back of his seat, sending him crashing forward and trapping him between the seat and the wheel. The horn blares. The car jerks and runs off the road.

Cuffed hands in front of you, you throw your weight against the driver's side door and grab the handle. He reacts, but not quick enough, his gloved hand snatching at the space where yours were a second after you get the door open.

You dive outside, crash to the ground, roll ungracefully away from the back wheels as they roar past, and use the momentum to get back to your feet. The car keeps rolling, driver's side door still open. It's still moving fast, and you landed hard. That's going to hurt in a minute. Not yet, though.

You run.

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[luludeluluramblings]

Hi so I was having some brainrot regarding your small-town-neglected-meta reader and I wanted to share them with you!

One thing I've been thinking about alot is the way readers powers work and what kinds of weather they're likely to create, etc. One thing I specifically thought about is that readers powers definitely have to come from her mom's side. Bruce and no else in Bruce's biological line have powers so readers mom has to have the meta gene. I was thinking that maybe readers mom also controlled the weather a bit, maybe not as strong as reader can but still had some powers.

Like creating little drizzles, maybe some dustdevils, and little snow storms. Because her powers were so weak she never really used them for much, maybe to help out her own parents on the farm but that's about it(using her rain powers to easily water the crops)

In that same line of thinking I also wondered if readers little brother also has superpowers. Maybe the way his powers work or appear are bit different than readers because of they have different dads(I imagine Bruce has really strong genetics. If Damian is any proof of that lol)

One little crank in this little headcanon though is that Nana and Gramps would also have to have superpowers. But then I reread the first chapter and thought about One of the phrases you used to describe how reader got in Bruce's hands.

"but blood is thicker than water in the eyes of the court."

That specifically makes me think that Nana and Gramps are actually readers little brother biological grandparents and not theirs.(what happened to their bio grandparents 🤔)

But anyway, one last thing I wanted mention is how badly I want to see reader using their powers more freely when they're back in small town. Like they aren't afraid to use their powers to make it super windy and have fun with their little brother up on the sky. Or causing a blizzard just so they can have a snowball fight and make snow-men with their little brother. Or even accidently cause a power outage because someone pissed them off! No more suppressed emotions just freedom. (Also reader crying in the middle of the rain they made in front of their parents graves(they wanted to be buried in their hometown) would be so tragically fantasic.)

Anyway I know this is a lot to read and I'm sorry if I seem a bit scrambled but I wanted to send this to you just cause I had so many ideas floating up in my brain I couldn't stop thinking about it all. Thank you for listening to me ramble, I hope your doing amazing🩷

Your call this bain-rot, Imma call it fertilizer. This is long as mess, but I think I addressed everything. Lots of Smalltown!Reader lore and I made a Family Tree to help explain if needed.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Smalltown!Reader's Family Tree:

Complicated little bugger, ain't it? I didn't add Stephanie or Barbara because Bruce technically never adopted them or fostered them. This isn't an official thing, I made this and it was composed of little bits of information I found online. So some of this stuff might not be lore accurate.

Also, while I was researching I found out that Bruce's middle name was apparently Patrick, after his grandfather at one point.

Now, time for the pseudo science.

I consider the meta gene to be a genetic trait carried down by a parent. That would be Momma/Adeline, in this case. She carries the gene. Now, the meta gene does not always activate even if one has it. So, no, Momma was not making mini storms for us. She was, however, very encouraging of Reader using their abilities. It takes an event, usually a traumatic one, to activate the gene. (Little Brother could be getting power's in the next chapter, though.)

As for Nana and Grand Daddy we have this:

They don't have the gene, so they don't have abilities. (Which doesn't me their harmless.) They are Reader's Step-Grandparents, but they've grown to love them all the same. Now, in court, it is preferred for a child to go to the nearest blood relative after their parents die. Or, at least, that's what I roughly know from what the court in my state is like. I'm not from Louisiana or New Jersey, where Gotham's located, so maybe it's different. But, this is fiction. This is why Nana and Grand Daddy didn't get custody of Reader, though. Plus Bruce is rich with a bunch of adopted kids, on paper he looks like the best option.

☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎☁︎

I really love the thought of Reader using their abilities for silly little things while back in Smalltown, at least before things absolutely go to hell in a hand basket. So I'll probably include a bit. (They used to do things like that before moving to Gotham, definitely.) Something I want to mention is that Reader likes to make it rain when their happy. It's their favorite weather, they love it. So a grave scene might be a bit different. (I have to include that now. Thank you for that idea! Frick, Part Eight about to be long af.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

If your curious about Reader's other grandparents, they just died from old age and health problems. I like to think that Reader had a close relationship with them. Calling them MawMaw and Gab for their nicknames and having spent a lot of time with Reader and their Little Brother before they died. (I'm sorely tempted to just commit to rewriting this with the OC I based Reader off of so I can include all this backstory to highlight how different their life in Gotham is compared to what it used to be, but I best finish what I started first.)

(Side Note: It's very common in the American south for people to give their grandparents nicknames. I have some for my southern grandparents, while I call my northern grandparents just plain Grandma and Grandpa. The nickname can vary and is usually what ever the first grandchild comes up with.)

Thank you for sending me this ask! Stuff like this actually inspires me so this was wonderful. Hopefully this helps. (Now to get back to work on my writing, I've been draggin' my feet again.)

[theemporium]

okaaaaaaaaaaay i just the new dialogue prompts so prompt no. 1 with sirius but please feed us with a lovesick fool!sirius <33333

1.”Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what?”

.

Sirius Black loved to do anything that would piss his mother off and take her a step closer to an early grave. 

Whether it was proudly sitting amongst those who weren’t purebloods or part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, or wearing his house colours with pride despite the stain it left on the Black name. Whether it was embracing muggle culture, or picking on every little fight he could when he stayed under her roof. 

Sirius liked to push her buttons. He liked to poke the bear and he liked watching that vein on her forehead look as though it was seconds away from exploding. In fact, it had been another one of her fancy dinners that he attended on a whim in hopes to find a way to piss her off. 

What Sirius hadn’t been expecting was to meet you. And what he certainly wasn’t expecting was to fall head over heels for the girl his mother would ship him off with before he could even blink. 

He had tried to fight his feelings for as long as he could. He reminded himself that you were probably a pureblood elitist like the others in that room, that you were a Slytherin and you probably turned your nose down at people who he considered his closest friends. 

But then he started noticing you around Hogwarts and quickly realised that wasn’t the case. And it became a quick—and borderline pathetic game—for Sirius to find any excuse to be near you, to be on your radar.

He made jokes whenever he knew you were in the room and eagerly sought out your reaction to see if you laughed. He would make funny comments in classes you shared together to see if you’d lift your head from your textbook to notice him. He would throw peas at you during dinner to see if you would turn around to find him in the chaos of the Great Hall. 

His most recent attempt wasn’t even meant to be anything grand. Just a simple question he made up so he would have an excuse to walk over to you during potions and talk to you. 

But then Snape had made a point of kicking his bookbag in Sirius’ path and the wizard didn’t have enough time to catch the movement before he was stumbling forward, crashing down on a table full of potion bottles that smashed around him.

“Holy shit, are you okay?”

Sirius blinked, the blaring lights above slowly being covered by your face as you stared down at him with a concerned expression, eyes glancing over him to make sure there were no physical injuries. 

There was a slightly bitter, citrus-like taste on his lips that he didn’t have a chance to question before he was blurting out the first thought that came to his head when he saw your face in his line of vision. 

“You are really pretty!”

You paused, glancing down at the boy with a slightly surprised expression. “What?”

“Like, genuinely one of the fittest witches I have ever seen in my life,” he kept going, unable to stop himself. “Maybe even the fittest.”

“Thank you?” you said, a little unsure by the bold statement. 

“I think you might actually be the girl of my dreams but you make me nervous to talk to you and I have never had that with a girl before,” he told you, his eyes widening a little at just how easily that confession slipped from his lips. 

Sirius quickly scrambled to sit up, not caring about his soaked uniform or the mess around him as he glanced down at the bottles smashed on the floor. His eyes landed on a certain label and he tried not to let out a string of curse words.

Of course out of all the potions he could have possibly accidentally consumed, it had to be a truth potion.

“You feeling okay there, Black?” you asked cautiously.

“I like the way you say my name!” Sirius blurted out before slapping a hand over his mouth. “I—uh, pretend I didn’t say…anything that I just said in the last few minutes.”

However, to his surprise, you smiled and let out a small laugh. “Anything else you like?”

“You!” Sirius said confidently, though his face and ears burned as red as his house tie. “I…fuck. Okay, maybe I have a crush on you! So what? You’re pretty and smart and you make my heart feel funny.”

“I make your heart feel funny,” you repeated, sounding amused by his confession.

“Yeah, like a good funny,” Sirius continued even if his hands were clenched into fists at his side, nails digging into his sweaty palms. “Makes me wanna kiss you.”

You raised your brows. “Yeah?”

Sirius contemplated if a sinkhole swallowing him up would be too far-fetched to occur right now. “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t need a potion to tell you I wanna kiss you too, Black.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” you told him with a grin. “But it’s cute.” 

Sirius grinned back at you. “So, if I asked you out on a date, you’d say yes?”

“Ask me, Black, and then you’ll see.”

.

[miniwheat77]

Cold Hearted. (Graves x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, unprotected sex, pregnancy, sex pollen, talk of abortion, no minors!

This is a different AU where none of the stuff happened with Shepherd or Graves.

Your head pounded. The feeling of someone pulling a bag off of your head is what startles you awake. “Shit- sergeant you okay?”

It’s your commander, Graves. “Yeah- yeah. What happened?”

“Mission gone bad. They ambushed us but I’ve got you now. We have to go.” He breathes. He’s clearly panicking. He’s untying your hands from the chair you’re in. “I feel weird, Commander.” You breathe. “Shit… shit shit.” He grits his teeth. He told the others to get out of there as fast as possible but he had to come back for you.

He grasps a hold of your hand, shoving your sleeve up your arm. He looks across your left hand and arm first. Looking for a track mark. Anywhere. When he sees nothing, he moves to the next. Looking over your hand and up your arm, turning it over. That’s when he spots the tiny little puncture in the bend of your arm. “Fuck. You’re infected too.” He sighs. “What? What do you mean?”

“They have.. they’re weaponizing a sex drug.” He breathes. “We have to go now, ask questions later.” He grasps your hand, pulling you along. Your legs feel like jello as you walk. Need starts at your feet and moves up. The sensation of want bleeds from each vein, infected blood pumping through you. Spreading the chemical through each vein, through each artery. When it reaches your heart, sparks shoot through you. Your knees buckling underneath you as you cry out. “Fuck- you okay?” He rushes back to you. “Yeah- yeah. Just… god.” You want to sob. The thought of pleasure- white hot and flooding your nerve endings. It’s almost too much to bear.

“My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.” You breathe.

Graves can feel it too.

He’d been infected first, but he was better at hiding it. Somehow.

He felt pathetic. He could fight anything off. He’s fought off army’s. But he can’t find off a stupid sex drug, and he can’t get you out of here. He grasps your hand, moving around you. He lifts you up, carrying you bridal style. He’s trying to get you out until he hears footsteps coming his way.

He rushes into a closet. He barricades the door. Making up a makeshift lock so that nobody would be able to get inside. It’s small, the two of you pressed front to front.

“You trust me?” He breathes. You nod your head. Sweat and blood pour down your face. “We have to do this. It’s fuck or die now.” He looks you in the eyes. You can barely see it in the dark closet. Your eyes widen. What is he saying? “I found paperwork. If we don’t do this.. we die.” He pants.

“You have to stay quiet for me, we’re going to get out of this.” He sighs. He leans into you, pressing his lips right to yours. Feeling you tense up from his touch. He reaches for his pants. By far this was going to be the craziest thing he’s ever done as a commander. He’s going to kill Laswell and General Shepherd when he gets back. He’s pissed that they didn’t warn him about the drug sooner.

You whine out as he exposes himself. “Quiet sweetheart.” He sighs. He hooks his thumbs over the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs. He grasps hold of your thighs, lifting you up onto him. “Forgive me okay? This isn’t how I would have wanted to do this.”

“It’s okay- just- please.” You mewl.

He lines the head of his cock up with your entrance and in one thrust, buries himself up to the hilt inside of you. You let out a gasp and he cuts it off, clamping his hand down around your throat. “S’okay. I got you.” He breathes. He pins you to the wall. He thrusts up into you. Muffling your moans with his hand. “You’re doing good. But I need you to cover your mouth.” You nod your head. He pauses for just a second. Pulling his own hand back. You cover your own mouth. He wraps his arms around you, underneath the bend of your knees and once he starts fucking into you again, you’re holding sobs back.

The pleasure is so intense, you can barely handle it. Graves can feel your arousal dripping down between the both of you, down his front. You were soaking him. “Just… just stay quiet. Fuck.” He hisses, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He can hear footsteps coming your way. But he can’t stop. Not now. He keeps his steady thrusts. They’re deep and hard. The way you’re clamping down around him, it’s clear what your body wants. Your thighs shake from the intensity. “You’re doing so good. So good for me.” He breathes. “You’re a good girl- just keep quiet.” He pants. Goosebumps rise on your skin at your oncoming orgasm. An intensity you’ve never quite felt before. It’s dull at first, but the build is more than you’ve ever felt. The knot forms quickly and keeps building. With each of his thrusts, your walls gripping around him. He’s pushing you closer and closer to that brink.

You’re silent, focused on what’s coming. It’s like a tidal wave, coming in fast. You start to breath heavier, body working with his. “I- I’m-“ you hesitate. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Give yourself to me.”

Your body shakes and convulses as you cum around him, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into your arm and his neck. Sobbing when you cum. Your pussy clenches around him, throbbing around him with each of your heartbeats. His eyes widen as he feels it, you’re milking his cock and he’s going to give it to you. You’re warm and tight around him and he buries himself to the hilt when he finally reaches his high, cumming right up against your walls. Your eyes widen as you feel his warmth filling you, and as the clarity hits you, you realize the gravity of the situation you’re in. Your heart surprisingly settles in your chest and so does his. You give yourselves a minute, making sure the drug has worn completely off before you decide to make your way back out to finish this mission that you had started.

How were you going to be able to forget this?

———

You tried to be strong.

You stood in the lineup. Gun pressed to your front. It was an AR and you were taking orders from Graves. The rest of the shadows were also in the lineup. It’s been about a month since that mission happened. You and Graves hadn’t spoken outside of giving orders. You’d gotten a pill from Laswell to prevent you from getting pregnant. Outside of that, you hadn’t interacted with him.

He didn’t know. Not everything.

The conversation that you’d had with your General and Laswell had destroyed you, but you didn’t want him to know.

You didn’t know what to do.

You wanted to cry, and that’s saying something. Since being in the military you hadn’t cried at all. Because it showed weakness and in the military you couldn’t do that. Once orders had been given, you went immediately to let them know you weren’t feeling good. Knowing what they knew, they kept you at base. From there, you changed into pajamas and finally had a minute alone to let the tears fall.

Graves was worried about you but he wasn’t good at showing it. His eyes kept glancing to you in the lineup and you looked distraught.

Then he was told you wouldn’t be going on the mission. He finally gives in, asking someone to fill in for him and made his way around to find you. Coming across Laswell. “Hey. Have you seen Y/N?” He asks. Laswell sighs. “She’s.. probably in her room Phillip. After she spoke with General Shepherd she’s probably not doing too well.”

“What? What happened?”

Laswell can see all over his face that you hadn’t told him anything. “She didn’t tell you did she?”

“What? Didn’t tell me what?” He asks. He’s confused. What hadn’t you told him?

“She’s pregnant Phillip.”

His entire face drops. His heart too.

“W-what? She didn’t tell me that.”

“I see that.”

“What.. what the hell did they talk about than?”

“Shepherd.. he.. he wasn’t too kind with her. He just- he told her that she couldn’t ruin your career, that he didn’t want to lose you as a soldier. So.. she needed to think about her options.” She swallows hard. “He.. told her to get an abortion.”

Hearing this lights a fire inside of Graves that he’s never felt. Not once.

He turns away from Laswell and she tries to stop him but knows it’s no use. You happen to be outside in the hallway. Trying to get a drink of water. You tried to be sneaky. Your face was still red and puffy and your eyes were bloodshot. You thought he was gone on a mission. But he happens to pass you. “Cmon sweetheart.” He startles you a little bit, tucking his hand behind your back and forcing you along with him. “Woah- what the hell.” You mumble. Forcibly walking along with him. He barges right into Shepherds office. He’s furious.

“Graves. What’s this about?” Shepherd asks. He’s sitting at his desk. “This is about you telling her to get an abortion.” He breathes. Your eyes widen, how did he find out? “You went and told him I see.” Shepherd sneers at you. This only pisses Graves off further. “I think if you don’t want me to come over that desk and cut your throat you’ll shut your mouth.” Graves growls, pointing at him. He’s got his all black outfit on. The one he always wore when going on missions like this one. “Laswell told me. I didn’t even know she was pregnant.” He seethes.

You can feel all of the hair on your body raising. You had never seen him so angry.

“Y/N is none of your concern. She works for me. Not for you. As far as I’m concerned, you shouldn’t have been speaking to her without me around. Period.” His teeth are gritted. “And you sure as shit have no right to tell her what to do with that baby. If she wants to keep it, that’s her decision. You had no right.”

“You’re right. You’re right Graves. I just didn’t want to lose you as a soldier over something that was purely by accident.”

“No. That’s done. You should’ve kept your mouth shut. Me and Y/N are off of this base first thing, because I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from putting my hands on you. So we’re leaving. Not because of Y/N, but for your sake.”

He turns to you. “Let’s go.” He mumbles. He’s so angry that you decide not to fight him. Standing up and following after him. Once you’re out into the hallway, he’s cupping your face to look at you. “Please tell me you didn’t get upset over that asshole.” He breathes. You look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. Look at me. You don’t have to apologize for anything okay? I’m going to get you out of here. First thing. I swear. Whatever he said… it was all bullshit.”

“I don’t have to keep it, Commander.” He can see tears gathering at your waterline again. “Y/N. Listen to me.” He presses his forehead to yours. The first time he’s touched you since everything happened. “This isn’t your fault. And I’m not going to be angry with you if you keep it. To be honest with you, I’d rather if you did.”

You look him in the eyes. “Are you just saying that?”

“Of course I’m not just saying that.” He breathes. He pulls you into a hug and even though his vest is hard, you hug him back. “You listen to me alright?” He sighs. “Whatever you decide to do, I will be right with you. I got you, okay? I’m behind whatever you choose to do. And if you decide to keep it, I swear I’ll step back into an office job and I’ll take care of you.” He draws back, his hands on both of your shoulders.

“I don’t want that.” You breathe. “Phillip? What’s going on?” You hear Laswell. He turns to her. The same cold look on his face as he looks at her. “You sat there and listened to him tell her to get an abortion. I’m leaving this base. We are.” He breathes.

She nods her head. “I didn’t agree with anything he said. But I can’t control him.” She sighs. “I wish you two the best. I hope you find everything you’re looking for.”

Graves nods. Tugging you alongside him once more. He was going to get you away from him. Away from everything. He’d keep you and his baby safe, no matter what.

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N: Hello my little doves! Sorry for keeping you waiting. Let me know what you think, love you all xx PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I FORGOT TO TAG YOU!

Warnings: Baron pissing me off.

Words: 3.030K

Chapter Ten ‘’Escaping the Baron’’

The preparations were made for Feyd to leave Giedi Prime to Arrakis. Everything happened so fast after that blissful night with his wife…

His things were packed without his command, his soldiers, advisors and servants were leaving the planet to make sure once Feyd leaves his home planet he can be greeted in a suitable way. He found himself outside of the fortress, in the courtyard, His uncle was in his floating device, his wife was standing close to his uncle in a black dress, he knew why she wore that velvet black dress, she was mourning his leave and it frustrated him. He came up with plans to take her with him but that would draw too much unwanted attention. The second he shows affection to Y/N and she would be in grave danger. Her face was covered with a black veil, she was standing straight, hands clasped.

‘’Finish the job your brother started.’’ Baron spoke, his voice echoing in the courtyard by speakers he installed into his floating device, ‘’Kill every Fremen if needed be.’’ He tilted his device to give a dominant kiss to his nephew, it was their custom and Feyd hated every second of it. When he bid farewell to his uncle he turned to his wife, he had to be extra careful. He approached with his stoic expression, lifted her veil with both of his hands and there she was with shiny eyes and frustrated look.

‘’Farewell, Wife.’’ He said, his voice was colder than ice, it cut her deep but she knew why.

‘’Farewell, Husband.’’ Thanks to her Bene Gesserit training she was good at acting. ‘’I hope to meet my first born when I come back.’’ He said it so that his uncle could hear that the only thing Feyd cares is having a strong lineage. With his peripheral vision he could see the smirk on the Baron’s extremely pale face.

Feyd turned and bowed to his uncle for the last time and turned to the ship which was waiting for him. He left his heart and hopes behind.

The following days for Y/N was harder than expected, every morning Baron’s private doctor came to check if she was pregnant or not, thankfully Feyd mentioned about this before, the reason why the doctor didn’t come after their wedding was that Feyd postponed it for her, how thoughtful he was…

She portrayed a perfect persona to the Baron and his spies, she was sending messages to her family and her Bene Gesserit friends, especially the Reverend Mother. She knew that her messages were being read so in every message she mentioned how much she appreciates the Harkonnens and especially the Baron’s kind gestures. However, someone like Reverend Mother and Jessica could read between the lines, Bene Gesserit developed a method to hide secrets between the lines. Baron thought she was just a silly little girl who is missing her family and friends and that’s why she was sending letters every day, the truth was that she was writing reports of what happens to her and her surroundings every single day. Feyd told her to wait for his message and she was waiting day and night. A week after Feyd’s departure Rabban came back to Giedi Prime. He was more sour than usual since he couldn’t control Arrakis and the spice production. Baron greeted him coldly and looked at him as if he stepped on a cockroach, she could see Rabban’s pale blue eyes landing on her, he was a simple man so it was easy to read him. He wasn’t going to do anything just yet, he was planning something.. at this point it was anyone’s game.

When she learned that she was pregnant with Feyd’s child she was sitting by the couch in her living room, her maids standing behind her, the doctor smiling wickedly, she knew as soon as the doctor leaves he was going to run to the Baron to deliver the news, ‘’Since you are from Bene Gesserit it is best for her ladyship to make the baby’s gender boy. House Harkonnen would be pleased.’’ He was basically saying that she had no choice but to give birth to a son. Thankfully she still had some time to change the baby’s gender in her womb. It had been the 5th week of Feyd’s departure and still he didn’t send any letters or messages to her, she was getting worried, ‘’Any news of my husband?’’ she asked the doctor hoping that he might know something. The doctor was packing his things, she noticed the slight shake in his hands, he didn’t turn to her, ‘’Unfortunately I do not possess any knowledge of our Na-Baron.’’ He explained without addressing her sitting figure, ‘’Thank you doctor.’’ She said kindly and watched him leave her chambers. She bolted to her feet when he left, she turned to her trusted girls, ‘’I have a feeling that my husband has been sending letters to me and someone is hiding them from me,’’ she began she was pacing in the room in her satin gold dress, her bouncy hair was falling from her shoulders. ‘’My lady.’’ The old maid she brought with her spoke, ‘’If your worries are true, we are here to help you.’’ They all bowed to her, she felt the overwhelming emotions of gratitude and hope washing over her like the waves in Caladan.

Ever since she learned she was pregnant she was debating whether or not she should sent a letter informing him about the pregnancy.

Baron wasn’t the only one who had spies, Y/N trained her small group of maids the ways of learning information and unraveling the secrets, after few days one of her maids came to her and told her that Feyd-Rautha’s letters were directly going to the Baron’s room and the maid could snatch one of the them which was sent to Y/N. Y/N gracefully thanked the young girl and dismissed her, later she immediately opened the crystal tablet which consisted of Feyd-Rautha’s handwriting.

‘’My dear wife,

My days in Arrakis have been occupied with never ending strategies, spice production and making sure Fremen rebels are under control. I have a hectic schedule and yet here I am thinking of you and your well-being every second. This is the 5th letter I am writing to you and I do not know why you don’t have time to write me back but thankfully my people keep informing me of your state. You are healthy, and thriving with your maids surrounding you. It seems like I will be here for a year, cleaning Rabban’s mess.

Please write to me as soon as possible.

Yours faithfully, your husband Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.’’

Tears covered her eyes, if this was the 5th then he must have been writing to her every week and waiting for an answer… ‘’Damn you Baron!’’ she cursed under her breath, she lit the fire place and destroyed the letter, she had to. She couldn’t afford someone finding it. She knew very well that if she wrote a letter it won’t reach to him so she had to come up with a plan. Thankfully she had excuse, Irulan was inviting her to spend some time with her, she left her chambers and marched to the Baron’s.

He was playing chess with the doctor when his guards let her in. This was the first time she saw his living room, it was covered in spice carpets and pillows, it was colorful than she had anticipated.

‘’My Baron.’’ She bowed,  waiting for his raspy reply, ‘’Lady Y/N, it is lovely to see you here. Oh, forgive me, congratulations. I cannot wait to see Feyd’s first born son.’’ It was a threat, if she gave birth to a girl then her life would be in danger. She unconsciously placed her hand on her stomach, ‘’Have no worries Baron, I am eager to give birth to strong sons.’’ She had to play to his ego and he seemed pleased. ‘’Please, sit.’’ He gestured near a chair and she sat. ‘’Do tell Lady Y/N, what brought you to my chambers.’’ She noticed how focused the doctor was, listening to them. ‘’Princess Irulan has sent me a letter, inviting me to her domain.’’  Baron pretended like he had no idea, ‘’Oh, what a generous invitation.’’ He commented. ‘’I would love to visit her and my family before my pregnancy hinders me from any activities.’’ She sounded calm, if she showed too much interest then Baron would suspect something.

‘’I’m afraid I cannot allow that.’’

Her ears were ringing.

She used a Bene Gesserit technique to calm her nerves. ‘’May I ask why?’’

Baron’s eyes were glued to the chess table, trying to beat the doctor, ‘’Since your husband isn’t here I am responsible for you and my nephew’s offspring. If something were to happen to you, how would I answer to my dear Feyd?’’

She stood up gracefully, ‘’I understand. Thank you for your time.’’ To that Baron only nodded and continued his chess game. As she was leaving she promised to herself that one way or another she was going to escape.

Her feet took her outside and to the courtyard and to the green house Feyd had built it for her, it was the most kindest gesture anyone has made for her.. full of her favorite flowers and plants. As soon as she walked in she slammed the door and noticed that she was breathing inside. That place was her haven and only place she could breath in this hostile planet. How she wished to be in Arrakis, in the middle of the desert instead of being in the hands of Baron. She sat on one of the wooden benches, closed her eyes and took deep breaths in and out and she was calm again. She remembered that night when Feyd brought her here.. it was magical. ‘’We still have a chance.’’ She said and when she opened her eyes she had a scheme to get out of here.

Every Friday cargoes from Arrakis would come and bring spice to Giedi Prime, Baron was directly stealing from the Emperor. The cargo ships would come at night and after the guards collect the boxes filled with the spice they would leave again. This transaction only took 15 minutes, they were fast and well coordinated so she had to be quick. She only had three days, all night she studied the cargo ship’s design and the palace which the Harkonnes had built in Arrakis 80 plus years ago.

Arrakis was a complete strange place, she grew up in planets which had forests, ocean, flowers and plants but Arrakis only had the desert, huge rocks for Sieches and the Harkonnen palace. The Fremens had their own language, had their own style of fashion… she had limited amount of time to learn as much as she could.

She spent her day time as usual, not attracting any eyes, she had breakfast, wandered in the fortress, had conversations with servants, politicians. She was going to leave alone, she didn’t dare to put her maids in danger.

On Friday an invitation came from Baron, he would like to dine with her in the evening, she couldn’t refuse but she also didn’t want to delay her departure any longer. She came up with a plan, thanks to her Bene Gesserit programming she could predict the outcome of every plan and situation. She rubbed her stomach in a loving way, ‘’We are Atreides, we survive.’’ She whispered to her baby, her trainings made her be aware of everything and sense everything, she could feel her baby, it was a warm feeling.

In the evening she was dressed by her maids, as usual. Her dress was black, it was the color of Harkonnens, her dress was modest with long sleeves, she was escorted to one of the small dining halls, the great fortress had multiple dining halls, ball rooms etc. As the black metal doors opened she saw the Baron, in his chair, at the head of the table which held various types of dishes. He was an extravagant man when it came to food. ‘’Lady Y/N, excuse me I cannot stand. Please do be seated.’’ His raspy voice sent waves of negativity to her but she had to endure. ‘’Thank you Baron.’’ She replied and sat close to him, ‘’No other guests Baron?’’ she asked intrigued, she thought the table would be crowded. ‘’I don’t have the mental state to deal with guests.’’ He started eating and she looked at her plate, it smelled delicious, ‘’You must eat Lady Y/N for you are with child.’’

‘’Yes Baron.’’ And she began eating, the room had white glowglobes, she preferred yellow or orange lights, the fire place was lit, lately it was cold. ‘’I must add,’’ he began, his pale blue eyes were on food he was eating and the food he wanted to eat… it was disgusting. She lifted her head to address him, ‘’my nephew has been sending me letters of his well-being and the state he is in. Arrakis is under our control, thankfully.’’ He was a jerk, he was implying that Feyd was sending him letters and not her but it wasn’t true, Baron was keeping the letters he had sent for his wife. ‘’Oh,’’ she began, pretending like she had no idea, ‘’I do sincerely hope that my husband is healthy and is taken care of.’’ She made her voice sorrowful, just like Baron expected it… a dumb girl who fell in love with his nephew.

‘’He is very well and he has great company by his side.’’ She immediately understood his intention, he was hinting that Feyd had women warming his bed, she felt her stomach turn but didn’t flinch. They kept eating, she listened to his Harkonnen family stories, she was good at detecting which information he was keeping a secret or altering but his next words were something she didn’t expect it.

‘’After all… Feyd was the one who murdered his dear mother Emmi Rabban.’’

Her mind went to the day she had discovered the old book of Harkonnen lineage.

Emmi Rabban; Matricide

Baron chuckled in satisfaction when he saw her face fell, ‘’Would you like to know why dear Na-Baroness?’’ he was daring tonight, she blinked few times but composed herself, ‘’Maybe I will tell you one day.’’ He laughed hard this time, she couldn’t sit there anymore, her stomach was turning and she was about to throw up. ‘’Excuse me Baron, I would like to retire to my chambers.’’ She bolted to her feet, he laughed again and licked his thick fingers, ‘’You may Na-Baroness. Sleep tight.’’

Y/N didn’t remember how she left that dining hall but on her way to her chambers she stopped to throw up, the guards who saw her came for help but she stopped them with the rise of her hand, ‘’I’m fine, go back to your duties and find someone to clean this mess.’’ She said and she quickly went back to her chambers, she didn’t have much time if she wanted to leave right now. She quickly changed into pants and tunic, tied up her hair and got a small bag with her which she prepared, the fortress was silent just like every other night. She choose the desolated halls of the fortress to be safe. Her heart eas beating in her throat and ears, she remembered the night she tried to escape Feyd and he pulled a great game, it was her time now.

The cargo ships were landing outside of the fortress but near it for carrying them inside, she walked in the shadows of the garden, if one could call it a garden… it was just an open space with pale white marble floors. Outside smelled like a factory pipe, they have destroyed the nature of the planet, only few small forests remained in this huge landscape.

A cold breeze touched her body and made her shiver, she held her headscarf and continued walking, everywhere had guards but it was shift changing hour so she had few minutes to climb over the black walls, she climbed the small tree which was planted in a marble pot, later she lifted her left leg and pushed herself on top, she was sitting on the wall now, she had to jump and roll. She took a deep breath, rubbed her stomach, she might lose her baby after this jump but she had to. From her trusted resources she had found out that Baron’s plan was to toss her aside as soon as she gives birth. Y/N took a deep breath and as she predicted she rolled on the stone floor to make the impact softer than normal. Her ankle was hurt when she stood up, she had to keep her mouth shut, she wanted to scream but didn’t dare. She was limping, she knew she had few scratches but she kept going. She could see the cargo ships landing, soldiers walking to collect the harvest, she was hiding behind a metal box, watching soldiers and memorizing their movements, they were like robots, same faces, uniforms and movements. She easily moved behind the shadows and when the boxes of spice were taken and the cargo ships were empty she had few seconds to get in before the hatch closed off. She looked around, soldiers were occupied with the boxes, no one paid mind to the empty cargo ships and she did her move. She made sure her head, hair was covered, one could only see her deep eyes.

As she sneaked into the empty ship she came face to face with a bald headed and bulky soldier, they both froze and her training paid off. Before the solider could alert the others she used the voice on him.

‘’You didn’t see me.’’ She looked at the box he had, ‘’You only came here to get the boxes out and your job is finished, this conversation never happened.’’

He looked like was in trans, he carried the box outside and never looked back and the hatch of the ship closed.

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[happy74827]

I'm not sure if requests are open but I just wanted to ask if you could write Gideon graves with a bossy/dominant reader

Also I absolutely love all of your fics they are so good!! ☺

Powerless

[Gideon Graves x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Gideon had always made people believe he was the man in charge with his brashness. But when he goes too far, you decide to put him in his place.

WC: 2255

Category: Spice/Lime

Hopefully by bossy/dominant reader you meant Gideon being a begging mess… because that’s what I wrote lmfaooo

『••✎••』

Gideon Graves sat across from you in the upscale restaurant, the clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of conversation forming a soothing soundtrack to the night. He looked handsome in his tuxedo, the sharp lines and high-quality material only highlighting his strong shoulders and narrow waist and his long, lithe body that had so often pressed against yours. He watched you across the table, his dark eyes following your movements as you lifted your glass and took a small sip.

"The food is delicious," you said. "But then, I should've expected that. You always have to show off."

Gideon's lips quirked, his gaze lingering on your mouth.

"What?" you said.

"I'm enjoying myself," he murmured, reaching across the table for his own glass of wine. "We haven't done this in a while. I'd forgotten how much fun it is."

"That's because you're the most insufferable person I've ever met."

"Is that why you keep me around?"

Truth be told, there were a lot of reasons. He was attractive and charismatic, with a sharp mind and a quick wit, not to mention a tongue that was just as wicked as it was talented. But that was all surface, and what really kept you around were the things he kept hidden. The way he would smile and his eyes would soften, the way he'd sometimes rest his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around you as you watched a movie, the way he would kiss you like he needed your breath to live.

"Something like that," you said.

You leaned across the table, and his eyes glittered, anticipating a kiss. But you stopped just short of his mouth.

This was Gideon’s reason for “keeping” you. The thrill of the chase, the game of dominance. You were both the hunter and the hunted, the cat and the mouse. Though, on paper, he was the one with all the power, all the money, and influence, but you knew who was really in control. And you made sure to remind him of it whenever the opportunity arose.

He watched you, his expression unreadable, his face impassive. You waited, not moving a muscle, watching him watch you. It was a battle of wills, a game of chicken. He broke first, leaning forward to close the gap between you, but you leaned back just enough so his mouth missed yours, catching your bottom lip between his teeth instead. You held his gaze, watching the dark fire in his eyes, the hunger in his face. You waited a few moments until his expression grew impatient, and then you pulled away, leaving him grasping at air.

He smiled, the edges of his expression turning dangerous.

"Dessert?" he said.

You grinned. “Yes, actually.”

Gideon chuckled, that pissed-off smile still in place. He snapped his fingers, and a waiter hurried over. You hated it when he did that, but you had to admit, it was effective.

"Hey, man," he said, looking down his nose at the waiter. "Say…what do you have for dessert here? You got anything chocolate?"

"Chocolate mousse, sir," the waiter said.

"Cool, yeah, I'll take one of those. What about you, Honey?” He knew how much you hated it when he called you by pet names. That’s why he did it. “I know you love your chocolate. Oh, but not too much, now. We have to watch our figures."

You were absolutely livid. You glared at him from across the table, but his smirk didn’t waver. He could read your emotions like an open book.

"I'm going to the bathroom," you said.

"I'll call if our food arrives," he said, giving you a wink. As you got up, secretly fuming, you saw the waiter glance over at him, a nervous look on his face. Gideon caught the look but simply told the waiter to add another chocolate mousse to his order.

At least he knew what you liked.

The bathroom was a welcome escape from the tension. You splashed water on your face, breathing deep. When you had calmed down enough, you exited the bathroom, only to find Gideon waiting for you by the door.

"I ordered some champagne for you," he said, and though his tone was innocent, his expression was not. “I thought it would help wash the chocolate down."

You exploded. All that was on your mind was the memory of the bathroom being completely empty. With the assurance that no one else was around, you grabbed his lapels and shoved him into the bathroom. He barely had time to gasp in surprise before you shoved him against the wall, pinning him there.

All the sarcasm and snark left him, replaced by a wide-eyed stare and flushed cheeks. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breath coming in short pants.

"Are you out of your mind?" He managed to say, but his voice shook. You had him right where you wanted him.

"What, Gideon? Did I ruin your little game?" You pressed yourself closer, the heat of his body radiating through his clothes. His skin was so warm. You felt the outline of his body through the fabric, the hard line of his waist, his chest. You slid your hands along the edge of his coat, feeling his ribs, his heart.

"No," he said. His eyes were wide, and you could feel him trembling. He was always like this, at the mercy of his own desires, his own wanton lust. It was so easy to play him, to manipulate him. You didn't even need to use your powers; it was his own weakness. He was putty in your hands. "Not yet."

You moved your hand down, over his stomach, and lower, between his legs. He moaned, his head falling back against the wall. His skin was so hot, you could feel it through the fabric. He was hard, and his hips twitched, seeking more contact.

"Don't stop," he said, his voice strained.

"Why shouldn't I?"

He didn't answer. He was just a panting, desperate mess, a slave to his own urges.

You pulled away, and his face fell, the flush draining from his cheeks. This was his punishment, and you loved every second of it.

"I think we should go back," you said. "Before our dessert gets cold."

"I'll buy the whole restaurant," he said.

You raised your eyebrows, and his expression darkened.

"Anything," he said. "Anything, I'll buy it. You want the fucking moon? It's yours."

You laughed. "That's not how it works, Gideon."

"Please," he begged. "Let me..."

You leaned in close. His breath was hot against your cheek, his heartbeat racing. Gideon was the picture of desperation, and you were the only one who could bring him this far, the only one who could make him lose control. You kissed him, and he groaned, his hips bucking into your hand. He was so eager, so pliant. He was at your mercy.

"I want my mousse," you whispered. “And I want all the teasing to stop. I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

He whimpered. "Yes."

"So, I think you owe me a reward, don't you?"

"Yes, yes," he said, nodding quickly.

"Good.”

He shuddered, closing his eyes. You could see his chest rising and falling as he took a few deep breaths, calming himself. He swallowed and opened his eyes again; the fire returned to his gaze. He gave you a smile, a real one, the kind of smile that made your stomach flutter.

“Home, then? I imagine.” He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing the disheveled strands. He took a step towards you, and you moved away. His smile widened.

"Nope. You’re not getting anything tonight. You'll have to prove to me that you can behave, or I'll leave you in the cold."

His expression fell.

"And, no, that's not a euphemism," you added.

"That's not fair."

"Well, life isn't fair, is it?"

"I'll take a cab home," he said, a slight growl to his voice.

"You won't. Because I know that the second I leave, you're going to get yourself off."

"You can't tell me what to do," he said, and a small smirk spread across his face. He was trying to get a rise out of you.

"You're right. I can't. But I know that if you don't listen to me, you'll never get what you want. And if you want me, then you better be a good boy."

He bit his lip, his eyes flicking over your body.

"Okay," he said, finally. "I'll be a good boy. Promise."

"Good. Now let's go have our mousse."

Gideon groaned, his expression pained.

You giggled. "I mean, unless you'd rather just go home..."

"No," he said quickly. "No, no. Mousse is good. Great."

You smirked. "That's what I thought."

The two of you headed back out, and Gideon took his seat, looking more composed than before, though he was still flushed.

"You okay, there?" You said innocently.

"Mhmm."

"I mean, if you'd like, I can ask the waiter for some water or-"

"I'm fine," he snapped.

"Good. I'd hate to see you suffer."

He looked at you, and his expression was pained. But you ignored it. The mousse was placed in front of you, and you dug in. It was rich and smooth and absolutely delicious.

“Thanks, honey," you said, flashing a smile at Gideon. You might’ve slammed him into the wall and practically choked him with lust, but the mousse was delicious, and you had to thank him for that. You’ve always been good with manners.

Gideon smiled back, though it was clearly forced.

"You're welcome," he said.

The rest of the night was pleasant despite his suffering. He kept quiet, his eyes lingering on you, watching your every move. You finished your mousse and asked for the bill, and Gideon paid for the entire meal. You felt slightly bad since the check was more than the down payment for your apartment, but Gideon assured you that it was fine and that money was no object.

He escorted you out, and the valet brought the car around. He opened the door for you, and you slipped inside. You watched him walk around to the other side and climb in. He was so graceful, like a dancer or a model.

"Where to?" He said.

"Yours," you said simply, with a soft smile.

He paused, his eyes widening with surprise. And then, his expression softened, his features becoming relaxed. His smile was warm, and he nodded.

"Of course."

Gideon might’ve kept his cool in front of the valet and the staff at the restaurant, but the second the two of you stepped inside his apartment, his composure began to crumble just as you knew it would. His eyes were glazed over with desire, his breathing was shallow, and his cheeks flushed.

This was the Gideon you wanted. This was the Gideon you craved.

He followed you inside, and as soon as the door closed and you allowed him to, he pushed you up against the wall. You let him kiss you, his mouth warm and soft, his tongue darting out to tease yours. He was eager, his hands gripping your hips. He was still holding back, trying not to let himself go, but you knew he couldn't resist.

"Touch me," you demanded, and he groaned, his lips sliding down to your neck. He kissed your throat, his teeth scraping lightly over your skin. He was gentle, but you could tell he wanted more. You tilted your head back, giving him access to the smooth expanse of your neck, and he obliged, his tongue and teeth working together to tease and torture.

You sighed, letting him pleasure you. He was so talented, so skilled. It was hard to believe that the man who could give you such blissful, agonizing ecstasy was the same man who could make your blood boil and your skin crawl.

"Fuck," you breathed as he nipped at your collarbone. He knew all the places to touch, to tease. He could play your body like a finely tuned instrument, drawing out every last note.

He lifted his head, his eyes dark and hooded. His lips were swollen, his breath coming in hot pants.

"I want you," he whispered.

"I know."

"Let me have you."

"Not yet."

"Please.” He was begging again. You loved it.

"Soon."

"Now."

"Be patient, Gideon."

He whimpered. You could feel his hands trembling, his hips twitching against yours. He was straining against his clothes, aching for release.

And unfortunately for him, the night was only just beginning, and you happened to love it when he was begging and pleading for release.

So, with a coy smile, you pulled away and started towards his bedroom. He was frozen in place, his expression dazed and his cheeks flushed. His gaze followed you as you moved, watching as you undressed.

You removed your blouse, letting the silky fabric slip off your shoulders and down your arms. You tossed it aside and unclasped your bra, letting it join the pile of discarded clothing. Your skirt followed suit, pooling at your feet. Gideon swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.

You stepped out of your clothes and turned around, heading towards the bedroom, leaving him behind. He didn't follow. You heard a low moan and the soft shuffle of clothes. You couldn't help but smirk.

The bed was soft and warm. You stretched out on the covers, running your fingers through your hair.

And with one simple word, you made him forget everything.

"Come.”

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch15

Description: We catch Hassan - We meet Graves - Rudy is potential BFF material, Simon is resisting. Laika is exhausted and hurt.. we will see how she gets on at base in the next chapter!!

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Sitting in the back seat of the car is uncomfortable. My body begins to seize up, cold, wet clothes not helping. I am cramping badly through my injured shoulder, I keep rolling it and shrugging it to try and keep movement while we are in the car. Obviously it has to be the shoulder that's closest to the Lieutenant so I try my best now to bother him but I can feel his side eye in my peripheral.

*Simon's POV*

The girl had been injured. No fuckin' wonder. She's vanished several times when shit's hit the fan. When we first entered the village with Alejandro, she followed us until the first shot was fired, then her scent disappeared, I had to concentrate on the job at hand but I was pissed off - I thought she had done a runner. Imagine my shock when we arrive to the house Alejandro knew Hassan had been in to find guards already dropped. Not only that, but there was obviously a bit of a struggle in the final room. The biggest guard had something over his face and had had his throat slit messily - that's when I see it. In his hand. Her fuckin' handkerchief that had caused so much trouble when she first arrived. She'd been here before us...

I keep this information to myself, quickly stuffing the hanky into my front chest pocket before anyone saw. If she had been here already, where the fuck was she now?!

I return to the conversation with Alejandro, trying to push aside my concern for the girl. Then she innocently pops her head round the doorway and Johnny swallows her lies hook, line and sinker.. I glance down and see that her knees are covered in blood - that would have happened during the struggle with the final guard. Stupid girl coming here alone. Could have come up here to find her dead.. taking stupid, needless risks would get her killed. And Hassan had already moved, so it was totally pointless..

During the chase with the Cartel controlled Army, I notice that she keeps holding her right shoulder - she's hurt. I keep an eye on her until she disappears again. I keep growling under my breath.. this girl is a fuckin' liability! I'd need to tell Price when I call him later on..

Johnny appears, a little behind the main group - he shouts to me asking where the girl is - I just shout that she will have to catch up. Then the whistle of a sniper bullet flies through the mountains towards us. I quickly clock it as friendly fire, due to an army troop falling forwards. She is flanking them from behind. I wasn't sure if that was clever or fuckin' stupid..

She will find herself facing friendly fire if she isn't careful..

She reunites with the group near the cliff - still favouring that damn shoulder. She screams in agony when Johnny catches her mid-jump. Johnny flinches at her reaction, he probably doesn't realise it yet but his inner-Alpha is clearly in turmoil due to her sharp "don't touch me" scream. He takes a few minutes to start smelling like normal Johnny again.

I guess I'm not in her good graces anyway, so when she hesitates and looks back toward the army when Alejandro jumps into the river, I act before she has chance to make yet another stupid decision - I throw her off of the cliff. Of course she can't fuckin' swim - my stomach sinks as I see her splash and struggle in the water. Thankfully I reach her and scoop her to the surface before handing her to Johnny to take care of. I feel the slightest bit of guilt but at the end of the day, I know Kyle and the Captain would not be happy if she ended up in a casket.

We squeeze into the car - all to close for comfort - especially fully kitted out with weapons and kit, not to mention being fuckin' soaked. The girl keeps rolling her shoulder, touching up against me in the process. I glance at her face, she keeps wincing but is obviously trying to be brave about it.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

"You boys good to roll up on Hassan with some fire from the sky?" Its that chirpy American again. "Lets wrap this fucker up, Graves" Johnny replies aggressively. A shiver travels down my spine - the last time I'd seen Johnny so hot-headed, was when he captured me for the first time...

We arrive to the position and leap from the pick up truck. It's a bit daunting because it was now just the four of us - the others had extracted to re-join Rudy. I look to the sky and see the American's air support circling above the area. "Shadow-1 , we will mark our position with an IR Laser" - "Roger that, Lieutenant".

"Position marked - there are four of you? Over" the American voice asks. "Four, yes - over" Ghost responds.

I gulp, Ghost motions us forward - I can't hide or go on my own this time, knowing that I'm now at risk of being blown up from the air. My arm aches, but I push that to the back of my mind and tentatively raise my gun and stick close to Johnny. We spot a few armed men and a couple of incoming trucks. Gun fire erupts and I quickly return fire, dropping a couple of men. The car to my right explodes.

"Negative on Hassan" Ghost shouts after about fifteen minutes of fighting - "Copy, you have multiple vehicles approaching from the South - I need you to move North, NOW, Lieutenant!" Graves shouts over comms.

"Copy - moving" we head away from the buildings and once we are clear, fire rains from the sky. They completely flatten three buildings, debris flying everywhere. A small piece of wood slices the tiniest cut in my cheek and I wince at the initial sting. I reach up and touch it, it's barely a paper cut but it's bleeding like crazy. I ignore it - it doesn't hurt anyway.

We enter the main courtyard and Alejandro gets a visual on Hassan, he tries to flee but Johnny and Alejandro are on his tail.

The Lieutenant and I remain outside, guarding the entrance. I am beginning to get overwhelmed by the crashes of the air support. My head is pounding and the taste of blood from the small cut on my cheek isn't nice either. I try to gather my thoughts, desperate to finish and be able to have a hot bath..

"Target Secured!!!" Johnny shouts from inside the house, Ghost relays the message to Graves.

"Whats the status of your exfil?" the American asks. "two minutes out!" - "You've got a military convoy approaching the AO" - "They're with the cartel - free to engage!" Alejandro calls to Graves.

Rudy approaches in the black jeep and we all emerge from the house. Johnny has Hassan and shoves him in the back seats, sitting next to him to keep him quiet and make sure he doesn't try anything. Ghost roughly grabs my arm (the good arm luckily) and drags me to the rear door, opening to reveal bench style seats in the back of the jeep. He shoves me in and climbs in after me.

"Go Rodolfo - package secure. We are RTB" I furrow my brows, confused by all of the military jargon. We travel quickly away from the danger, dirt roads kicking up dust in our wake. Rodolfo comes to a sudden halt. We look around before Graves' voice cuts through on comms again "what's the hold up..?"

"Shadow-1, there's movement at the fuel station ahead.. possible Cartel" - "Copy, we'll recon the area - be prepared to move.." Graves replies to Alejandro.

I whine to myself and squeeze my eyes tightly closed, trying to get myself into the correct head space again. We wait, stationary, in the car for a couple of minutes before Graves tells us to move. Apparently there were no threats in the area.. my eyes remain trained on the men at the gas station up ahead. As we approach the gas station a man starts to cross the road. "Rudy! Drive!!" I shout, shocking everyone in the car - it's the first words I openly speak to the entire group. It's too late though. I'd noticed the parked car, revving up too late. We reach a junction and get slammed into by another car, purposely flipping our vehicle.

I grunt with the impact, I'd been unbelted in the back so when the car had flipped and landed on the roof, I'd been thrown backwards and hit the roof, hard - on my already sore shoulder.

As soon as I get my bearings and manage to open the door, I see Cartel men climbing from the car that they'd crashed into us. I then hear bullets rain from above again, far too close for comfort. The lieutenant sees how close I am to being hit and barks down his radio "SHADOW-1, CHECK FIRE _ CHECK FIRE".

I manage to crawl from the upturned car, holding my shoulder. Fucking hell.. why did I agree to this..?

Alejandro leads everyone to a secure building and instructs his Omega to call for helicopter extraction. Fucking finally!

I hide behind a counter in the building. It looks like some sort of restaurant. I close my eyes and collect myself before Johnny slides beside me with the hostage. He smiles at me as if to apologise for hurting my arm earlier and check if I was holding up.. its amazing how he can convey so much with just a simple look..

Hassan then turns his head to face me and sneers at me. "Didn't realise they use little bitches in the military now, huh?" he taunts. I look away, disgusted. Johnny roughly shuts him up by headbutting him. "You fuckin' shut it, pal!" he barks, bits of spit flying from his mouth in his rage. I try to shuffle away but Johnny reaches my hand and squeezes it softly "Don't listen to him, Lass.."

All of a sudden the heavens open. The Shadows must be flattening the place. There are shouts and orders coming through over comms and then Graves addresses us for the first time in a while instead of his own men. "They're sending everyone they've got - but your exfil is here. If you can make it to the football pitch, east as you leave the building, you'll be extracted. We will cover from the air..over!" He shouts over the crashing and bangs of explosions and screaming.

I take a deep breath and stand, following Rodolfo. "You better fuckin' cover us, Shadows.. We've burnt through ammo - not got much left.." the Lieutenant growls down the radio.

"We'll do what we can. They're sending fuckin' missiles back to us - so hurry your asses up!" the thick southern drawl shouts.

"Argh!" Rudy shouts "I'm down to two mags.. not enough" I tap him on the shoulder and offer him my Assault Rifle, wordlessly. He looks down at me confused but I old up my knife and smaller pistol as if to say 'I've got plenty'. He takes the gun from me with a quick nod.

*Rudy's POV*

I feel a tap on my shoulder. It's the Garrick girl. She holds her gun out to me, obviously hearing that I hadn't got much ammo left. She wants me to take her gun..? I must look confused because she then removes a pistol and knife from her belt and thigh holster. At least she won't be unarmed.. I take the gun with a thankful nod.

I neglect to comment on the fact that the knife was covered in fresh blood. It was still red, yet as far as I'm aware, we hadn't come close enough for any knife fights.

Strange girl... I'm not sure if I'm imagining it but I think I catch a faint scent of honey and.. oranges..? Omega, like me....???

Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

We leave the building and arrive to utter chaos outside. Fire, debris and men who had been blown to pieces. I try not to look. I just follow the others towards the sound of the helicopter blades.

I make it to the helicopter, the journey here had been a total blur. I'd taken a bullet graze to the leg, but it was just a small wound. It hardly makes a difference to my utterly exhausted body. Alejandro is first to the chopper, escorting everyone inside. He pats Rudy twice on the back as he steps in. I'm last to make it and he pushes me towards Ghost. I stumble on the ramp and put my arms out to save my fall when I'm caught by two strong arms. The lieutenant. "Watch it, girl.." I glance up at him, embarrassed, and quickly shuffle to sit on the opposite side, furthest from everyone, but only a seat away from Rudy.

"Vamos! Go Now!!" Alejandro roars to the pilot. We lift off and head to safety. I shut my eyes and exhale, trying to release all of the pent up tension in my body.

We fly for what seems like ages. I manage to fall into a peaceful state which I would count as rest but it wasn't really. More like sheer exhaustion. We land in the middle of the desert, it seems. I look at the others, confused.. "Time to meet Phillip Graves.." the Lieutenant grumbles, standing and opening the helicopter ramp..

It's dark out, a circle is lit by the car headlights that are already waiting for our arrival.

Johnny drags Hassan out with a sack over his head that he had put on him when he called me a bitch.

"Oan your knees!" Johnny slams him roughly to the ground. A blonde man steps forward from one of the cars and opens a computer. "Y'all got a clear picture?" he says in a familiar voice. Graves. It was Graves. He was an Alpha.. He smells of bourbon and spices.. it isn't an unpleasant scent but it's too sharp for my taste..

I then hear an older man's voice and a woman, who I think to be Laswell, reply over the laptop speakers. What am I witnessing here...? Are they about to torture him..?

I whimper slightly, under my breath and the American looks up at me, meeting my eyes. I stand, nervously on the top of the helicopter ramp.

Graves chuckles and introduces himself to the team, shaking everyone's hands as they are down on the ground. I am the only one still on the chopper. He directs his attention towards me.. I watch him nervously.

"So, sweetheart, you must be the number four I spotted from the TV-visuals up in the air.. I was advised that there was only the lieutenant and sergeant joinin’ us on this mission.."

"Last minute change of plans, Graves!" Laswell answers on my behalf. Graves doesn't take his eyes off of me.

The Lieutenant interrupts, clearly wanting to get on with the interrogation. I silently thank him for that, even though I know he didn't do it for my benefit.

Graves slowly shifts his gaze away from me and as soon as he does, I feel safer - more relaxed. God, he is intense..

Rudy walks back towards the helicopter and stops at the bottom of the ramp. I try to keep my eyes on Hassan, to make it look like I'm concentrating.

Hassan speaks up first "Do you speak Arabic?" he asks Graves, who crosses his arms with an obnoxious smile on his face.

"Nope!" he says, cheerfully, clearly trying to piss Hassan off.

"Farsi?" Hassan tries.

Graves looks skywards as if he is sarcastically thinking.. "No!" - what a cocky arsehole!!

"Course not" Hassan answers "Then I'll have to speak your bastardised medieval English because you're all uneducated streetdogs!" He snaps, looking around the group.

His eyes settle on me when he says 'streetdogs'. My body tenses and I gulp. He has a knowing look in his eyes.. Does he..? - he couldn't possibly...

I turn sharply and walk back into the hold of the helicopter. He smirks and laughs once before turning back to face Graves. I sit with my head resting in my hands.

I try not to break down. I'm almost at the point of tears when I feel a calming presence appear next to me. I glance out of the corner of my eye. It's Rudy.

"We will leave the mean stuff to the Alpha's huh?" He says with a friendly, gentle tone.

I sob a laugh, slightly turning toward him.

"Why are you upset..?" He asks with furrowed brows.

"I - I'm not cut out for all of this..." I whimper, in reply.

"I'd say you did a pretty good job today, Amorcito, no?"

I shake my head "I was a - a liability.."

"No no, you weren't.. you're very brave.. I know I wasn't there for some of it.. but I notice you've used your knife..brave girl.. I try not to get close enough.. or they smell me.."

"Oh.. I didn't use - I don't know..." - "You don't have to lie around me, Amorcito, please..?"

"That's.. that's not my name.. I'm - I'm Y/N.. or Laika.." I sniffle

"I know, it isn't your name" he chuckles softly back.

"Hey, look.. look at me Amorcito" I look up at him. "You've done a great job today. Come with me.. we will get cleaned up.. leave them to interrogate the terrorist.." he offers me a hand and pulls me from my chair with my good arm.

I walk with him to the back of the helicopter where he gathers a medical kit. He takes some wipes and antiseptic gel. He starts by gently wiping the small cut on my cheek. "Air support is messy, no? Glass and wood flying everywhere.. Alejo told me to keep an eye on you. I'm sure he thinks you are called Garrick.." He chuckles.

I blush and look down at the floor. "I - I'm not.." - "Is Garrick the name of your Alpha..?" He asks.. I freeze.

"Oh.. no-NO .. I don't.. I'm not.." - "Not what, Amorcito..?" he looks confused by all of my stuttering.

"Not presented. I'm a - I'm a stray they took in. They don't really want me here.. Laswell just told them to babysit me..." I dump on him.

He looks at me as if he doesn't believe me "Now, I'm sure that's not true.. I - I can tell your two Alpha's out there are fond of you. Even the Ghost..."

"He- He hates me, Rodolfo.. you've not seen.." - "Rudy, please.. and I've seen plenty to know what I see.. please.. join Alejo and I for dinner tonight. I will show you to your room. The base is going to be busier than usual - we have the Shadows and yourselves staying.."

I gulp. "I - I don't sleep well" - "Don't worry about that.. your Captain called ahead. We have organised everything so it's as comfortable as possible for you, Amorcito".

He gently taps me on the calf, just below where I'd been grazed by the bullet. "That's you cleaned. No infections hopefully, lets go sit down.."

I hadn't even realised that he had been cleaning the wound on my leg. I smile and wince as I stand, using my bad arm to push myself up.

"Oh, and take this for the shoulder. Hopefully just deep bruising..."

I nod and smile at him. He smiles fondly back when he sees that I'm more comfortable around him.

We sit back in the main hold together, Rudy directly next to me this time.

I yawn and he chuckles. "Tired, Amorcito?" - "A little bit, yeah.."

He tells me to rest my eyes and I do, the interrogation is still ongoing outside, it's just quiet back ground noise from where we are sitting though.

*Johnny's POV*

This Hassan dick! We had to let the Prick go!! Apparently not enough to hold him on.. what the FUCK!! I can feel my hot headed temper flaring as we walk back to the chopper. Simon clasps me by the shoulder before stepping onto the ramp. "Quiet Johnny, I'm pissed off too, but -" he nods towards Laika..she is fast asleep on Rudy's shoulder.

My temper dampens a little bit but I am still fuckin' raging.

I sit across from Rudy and Laika and watch her fondly. I was a little surprised that Simon had told me to calm down. I wouldn't have thought he would give a shit if I had woke her up or not.

Alejandro pipes up quietly from his spot beside Rudy. "You've made a new friend, Cariño?" Rudy chuckles and nods gently. "What did she say..?" he asks.. "Nothing much, alpha - she is a nervous, shy little thing.." he says smiling down at my the girl fondly..

My Alpha feels like growling at Rudy.. but I manage to hold it in. He is an Omega, after all. And she looks so relaxed for once.

Alejandro chuckles and raises an eyebrow at Rodolfo "If you take her under your wing, Cariño, we could keep her.." he jokes, kissing Rudy on the cheek before standing and heading towards the pilot.

Simon growls at that.. I look over, shocked that he had been listening and that he seemed to care...

Laika stirs and blinks her eyes open, seeing that we are back on the chopper and in the air. Her eyes flash to a growling Ghost. Not helpful.. She whines and backs away slightly, apologising to Rudy.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Darkness and calm took over. I was comfortable and surrounded by a soft, calming scent. I am disrupted by a fiery smell and the low sound of a growl. I blink away the peaceful sleep I'd been having and meet eyes with the Lieutenant. My mind immediately flashes back to Hassan calling me 'streetdog'... what had he told them?? Was Ghost going to kill me??

I scramble backwards away from Rudy and away from the growling. Johnny leaps forward and catches me before I fall off of the seat. As soon as I am in Johnny's arms, the growling stops. I'm shaking like a leaf and Johnny gently shushes me and strokes my hair as I rest against his chest. He sits down with me practically in his lap.

*Rudy's POV*

I am shocked.. the poor girl is terrified by Ghost. I understand now what she means. But she has got it all wrong. The Lieutenant was only marking his territory. Alejo has always been a flirt. He is a fiery, hot-blooded Alpha. His comment was a little joke, but the Lieutenant didn't seem to like it one bit. I sit quietly, allowing the pair of Alphas to settle before standing up and walking towards Ghost. The Omega in me is brave now, having spent many years in the military and standing up to Alphas, but I still feel like I'm fighting instincts when I stand face to face with an angry Alpha.

The massive, angry Alpha stares down at me. I know he isn't angry with me, so I proceed.

"Lieutenant.." I whisper.

"What!" he growls back.. this might not go down well..

"The girl.. what is she to you and your pack?" I ask, gently. "She ain't pack..." He growls again.

"She smells like pack.. She is wearing Garrick's, whoever that is, jumper.." I accuse with an eyebrow raised.

"She ain't-" I sniff the air, interrupting him, "Even you, lieutenant - you smell of her.. she has a faint smell.. but I can smell it on you...why is that..?"

He huffs under his breath. "I don't know and I don't care.." He is resisting - not good with words.. got it..

"So, you won't mind if she stays with Alejo and I while you are here in Las Almas?" I taunt, gently.

He growls again. "Your Captain requested safe, secure sleeping quarters. No un-mated Alphas.. we will keep her safe.." I raise my eyebrow.

"That's what Johnny and I are here for" he barks at me.

"For what..? I don't follow?" I act, trying to get him to say something more.

"The girl shares with Johnny and I, that's final". I smirk.

"Suit yourself, Lieutenant. You may wish to apologise and treat her a little more softly if you wish to spend the night with her.." I tease, walking to Alejo before he grabs me when he realises I'd backed him into a corner. Alphas can be so stupid when they are pining after Omegas...

*Ghost's POV*

Fuckin' stupid Alpha.. you'd fallen for Rudy's little ploy.. Thinkin' with your fuckin' Alpha brain again. Possessive, protective, selfish shitbag!

We touchdown at the Vaqueros' base and I glance to Johnny. The girl was curled up in his lap. Does she know that she is scenting him..? Her nose is stuffed right in the crook between his shoulder and neck, where his scent glands are. Johnny just grins at me as if he had won the fuckin' lottery, puttin' his thumbs up and everything.

Fuckin' hell - the quicker this mission is over, the better...

[shinynewboots]

Hazbin Hotel Characters as Medical Specialties

Charlie: Pediatrics

You're telling me can't imagine Charlie with Bluey stickers in her pocket and saying "oh I see a dog in your ear. Woof!" When using an otoscope on a child with an ear infection? Be so for real rn

Vaggie: Emergency Medicine

This woman thrives in chaos, she grew up on a battefield. The ED is the Wild West of medicine and Vaggie thrives under the constant stress and variety

Vaggie: "what do you mean you were woodworking while drinking, are you fucking stupid"

Vox: Nephrology

Okay, okay this one is less based in personality and more based in the fact that I need to see a pissing competition between Vox and Alastor (as a cardiologist) about fluid status and renal function

Vox: *decreases lasix dosage in a patient with poor renal function*

Alastor: *punches Vox bc that patient is also fluid overloaded and has heart failure with a reduced ejection fraction*

Velvette: Dermatology

Listen you can't tell me that she didn't have amazing skin when she was alive. I can see her moving more towards the cosmetic side of dermatology with occasional biopsy or Mohs bc who doesn't love a procedure every once in a while

Cherri: ICU/Crit Care

Like Vaggie, Cherrie also thrives in chaos and things in the ICU can go from 0 to 100 in less than a minute. I also feel like she would have pretty good empathy and separation of work and home to be able to not let the job get to her too much

Angel: Psych

This just feels perfect to me, more based on my own experience but everyone I've met in Psych is kind while also being the coolest person you've ever met. I also think Angel would really be able to empathize with his patients based on his own history with addiction. He really likes to listen and offer support and advice.

Alastor: Cardiothoracic surgeon or Cardiologist (to get into a pissing contest with Vox about fluid and sodium)

Look, I know Al is like the perfect surgeon. He's intimidating, meticulous, and calculating. And I don't disagree, I think he would thrive as a CT surgeon...however, there's just something about him arguing with the nephrologist that just gives me the giggles

Lucifer: Internal Medicine

Listen, he's done it all and seen it all. He will spend hours rounding because he just wants to make sure he gets everything right (he's also avoiding going home alone but that's a different story). He also loves working with medical students and will give rousing lectures on first-line antihypertensive and diabetes medications (while also getting all of the students and residents names wrong).

Lute: OBGYN

Listen, I love Lute but if I knew her in real life she would intimidate me so badly. Much like the OBGYN attendings I worked with. She's amazing at her job and beloved by her patients for her blunt yet realistic recommendations, but in her L&D room or operating room, that is her domain and there is no deviation from that. Medical students and residents should exercise caution, but she will teach them the most out of any rotation

Adam: Orthopedics

This man is an ortho bro if I've ever see one. He is the attending who will pimp medical students on the playlist he has playing in the OR instead of the surgery in front of them. (What do you mean you don't know what artist this is? It's the fucking Eagles. Go home and study up, we're playing Led Zepplin tomorrow.)

Niffty: Pathology

Listen I have no explanations for this one. It just felt perfect, tbh

Husk: Anesthesia

This man is like every anesthesiologist I've ever met. He is there stereotype and sits behind the current with his sudoku in hand. Don't let that fool you, this man has knowledge and skill and is not afraid to use. The second your patient starts de-sating or coding, he's the one you wanna listen to

Rosie: Family Medicine

Rosie is the picture-perfect family medicine attending. Kind, empathetic and offers great advice. From cradle to grave, she's got you covered with primary prevention and screening and will be there for you for whatever comes next

Lol this is meant in good fun, so there are a few stereotypes about the different specialties and a lot of it is based on my own experiences on rotations. Let me know what you guys think. I know I missed some characters so let me know if y'all want me to come up with more.

[matchadobo]

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request Eustass Kid x reader where reader is the only person he is soft for? Like he drops the whole tough guy act when reader is around. Just something about them makes him calm down. Thank you!

-🪶

KIDD; calm to his storm

wc: 814 summary: after getting into a heated fight with crew, name checks on kidd. warning/s: all fluff!!

"kidd?" you peeked over the doorframe of his workshop. you found him hunched over his couch, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together, and brows knitted as he heaved frustrated sighs out his nose. "hey, i heard you're having a hard time with the crew." you scooted over to sit beside him.

"those fuckin' idiots don't get it." he mumbled through his nose, not budging from his pissed state. "we have fuckin' boundaries, why'd they go an extra mile to cross the line that we are not playing house and we're a goddamn crew?"

"yeah, i heard about what happened." you rubbed on his back, "don't you wanna get some fresh air first? calm down a bit, hm?" you suggested, looking up at his fiery eyes. you saw how his gaze softened, body relaxing with your touch.

"nah, i'd explode when i see their fuckin' faces once i got out." he leaned back, crossing his arms along the way. "i'd rather shut my fuckin' self in here."

there was silence, it wasn't uncomfortable but you figured you should leave him alone. let his thoughts breathe for a moment.

"if that's the case, i'll leave you be-" you pulled yourself up from his sinking couch, only to be pulled back again. this time, he had his human arm around you. he buried you close to his chest where you felt how rapid his heartbeat was.

"don't." he sighed deeply when he felt your warmth in his chest. "need you here, close."

"so you'd shut me in here with you?" you looked up at him from behind.

"aye. you complainin'?" his hug got tighter, hands making its way inside your shirt. he breathed in your scent, relishing on the aroma of your perfume. he's got you between his arms and legs. his human hand was now settled on your thigh, rubbing the surface of your skin back and forth while pinching some parts playfully along the way. you felt the now steady beat of his heart against your back as it matched the ticking of the antique clock on his workshop. "you just bathe?"

"yeah. it's really hot." you replied. "i used the body wash you gifted me." you played with your fingers.

"smells pretty, i knew it'd suit a little rose like you." he chuckled lightly, placing his nose on your head. "you're so warm, i can fall asleep like this."

"really?" you shifted a bit to look up at him. "we can do that if you want."

"you know what i'd really want?"

"tell me."

he intertwined his fingers with red-laquered nails with yours. kissing the back of your palm and admiring the lip print he left. "in the far future, once we'd attain my dream. i'd like to have a family with you. i'd like to come home with you and the brats we made. i'd like to raise them in a world i'll make when i become pirate king. i'd like to watch you and i become old as fuck, seeing our brats grow up. i'd like to wear this ring," he raised his hand, ring finger adorned with the gold-plated ring he made for you and him when you two officially tied the knot. "until we die. and i'd like to have my grave next to yours, on that hill we met. that's what i want the most."

you felt your heart swell with his words. tears fell from your eyes without you realizing. your lip quivered as you try and catch your breath. you were at loss for words. since when did he learned words like this? since when did he learn to plan so far ahead? since when did he want a family?

you'd known him as a head first, go-with-the-flow, focus-on-the-present kind of guy. so all of this was a goddamn enigma for you. he sounded so genuine you had to look back if it was someone else speaking. but you know his voice all to well that those words belong to him, straight from his heart. from the way he holds you, from how his chest was rabbiting with each second, and from how his lips never left the skin on your neck.

"k-kidd i.."

"didn't mean to overshare, goddamn it." he ran a hand through his locks. "now i forgot why i'm fuckin' angry." he laughed a little.

you stood up. bent down to his level and pressed a kiss on his forehead. "i'd make it all come true, i'd be with you every step of the way."

he hugged you by your waist, burying his face on your stomach. "if it weren't for you, i woulda died from too much fuckin' stress in this crew. there's somethin' too precious about you that you just bring out the sap in me."

"you just love me so damn much, that's it."

"wouldn't argue on that, sweetness."

hellloooo to the person who requested >< ty for your requestttt but OMG i hope i did this justice, did i follow the rqst??? i added a lil bit of situation so i can elaborate ueueueue my christmas break has started!!!

[sapphickocho]

Thinking about how Uzui had to watch everyone he cared about die before him. First 3 of his siblings die during there fathers harsh shinobi training, then six he killed himself during a deathmatch where all of them were masked. Then Kyojuro died next, and the rest of the hashira except Sanemi and Giyuu during a battle he couldn't participate and help them in. Then of course Sanemi and Giyuu do die on the same year and four years later Tanjiro, someone he grew closer with also succumbs to death way too young.

Thats why Tengen's line of "Just how many lives do you think ive let slip through my fingers?" hits so hard because his life is just death. Everyone he loves is bound to die and he cant do anything about it.

So I made a little list of hcs on how he copes;

What uzui does at each of his friends graves;

Rengoku; He often has a picnic beside his grave, bringing along his wives and having a feast with all of kyojuros favorite foods, like sweet potatoes and bento boxes. He is the hashiras grave he visits the most and often talks to it and updates him on how life is going.

Shinobu: He brings the flashiest flowers he finds and brings them to her every year because it reminds him of both her and Kanae.

Muichiro: It is hard for him to visits his grave, especially when he sees it adorned with a picture of him and his twin brother when he was younger. But he makes sure to see it every year, and gives him a little gift, like a folded paper crane since he knew he like origami. He feels guilty that he didn't fight in the battle when muichiro, the youngest pillar, did.

Mitsuri: Like everyone else still alive, they visits her grave annually on her birthday and bring mochis to celebrate because it was her favorite food. However when everyone else dies, he makes sure to keep up the tradition with Nezuko.

Iguro Obanai: When he visits his grave he always teases him about how he's doing with Mitsuri in the afterlife. After that he sits down and talks about his snake Kaburamaru and updates him about his daily life.

Gyomei: He prays at his grave. Not that he particularly agrees with it or is religious, he just knows that Gyomei would appreciate it.

Sanemi: He visits both of the Shinazugawa brothers on the same day, since they are both buried next to each other. He tells him that he misses him because he knows Sanemi will be pissed by the sappiness and also because in truth, he does.

Giyuu: He usually sits down and talks for hours to him about how everyone is doing, whats going on and other mindless useless things. he knows that Giyuu doesn't like to talk so just like when he was alive, he can just sit and listen and enjoy the company.

Tanjiro: He always bows to Tanjiro's grave and thanks him, for saving his wives and being a friend for all those years. he tells him about Nezuko and Kanao and tells them that they all miss him very much.

Makio, Suma, Hinatsuru: When they all die before he does, he curses the gods for keeping him alive. He makes sure to have there graves next to his estate and sits next to there graves for hours until sundown. Sometime he even sleeps next to them.

I am not sure his wives dying before him is canon but Ive heard it from multiple people so I will assume so. Either way, Uzui's life is too tragic and I just cant get over it. He can never protect the people he loves the most. That man deserves a break from all the death and hug from all of his wives (+rengoku.) But it seems like Gotouge had different plans.

[darkdemeter]

— PREVIEW — THE CONVICT WOLF

Material is featured as a preview/loose prelude for the upcoming project and is subject to potential alterations for narrative purposes.

A/N: just as a word of warning (this will be mentioned in the reader discretion as well) that this series as a whole is intended for 18+ readers due to very strong and sensitive content that will be featured in it, as it takes a more gritty, angsty and darker approach. This preview serves a little more as an introduction to reader and a little bit of a loose prelude before the actual first and “official” column of the series.

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

— READER DISCRETION —

Depictions of death and gore/violence (description of consumption of human flesh by werewolf) — depictions of graveyard/deceased desecration (grave digging) — dark!reader — strong narrative (adult) language — overall this preview and the series as a whole is intended for 18+ readers!

Enjoy the preview!

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟖𝟖𝟖 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤

Muddy cobbles slosh beneath the heel of your boots, scuffed from their long and working age. New York, the prize-to-be-metropolis, was no better than Boston - in your professionally critical opinion. For talk of progressive schemes, New York remained the shithole it had always been. The only thing they did only pissed you off: more law. 

But muddy puddles and a law infested nest of humans were the least of your troubles. 

Silently, amidst the shroud of fog, you slide one last bullet into the cylinder of your revolver. The fog parts as you step through it to continue tailing your target. The barking of stray dogs fills the dark and empty streets of New York, a fine indicator that you may have a moment of peace in your hunt. If there was something on this green earth to top the greater nuisance than civilian intervention whilst you worked, you were unconvinced of its existence to prove you wrong. 

Nothing made your fuse burn out faster than folk who didn’t know to not scramble into the way of your path. 

Your eyes take in the shadowed alley you pass through, a hidden filter for scum to flush out into the streets and become inconspicuous with the crowd. That was during the day, however, not at night. That trick of aversion may have worked with petty criminals and the law, but not with you. 

With you, nothing got away.

Something clatters in the distance up ahead and you turn your sights to it. Your bounty was sloppy, not very good at covering his tracks to ensure his survival. It took you no longer than three days to track him down. Of course, your handler had a knack for picking up leads fairly quickly, resources and old debts of favours went a long way when in your time of need. 

You pick up your pace, your bounty well aware they were being followed, your jacket kicked up when a winter breeze breathed down the throat of the dimly lit street. 

The bottom of your long, dark coat kicks up as you surge forward with purpose, hand bearing one of your firearms as the other pulls the second twin from its holster. You have him cornered now. 

You come to slow down at the end of the short strip next to the occupying building. Some wealthy man’s brick estate no doubt. Sheets of white obscure most of the way, hanging from the wash lines above, but you could make out his silhouette. A large, towering and muscular physique covered in coarse fur. His tail sits in the mud to only further his savage and beastly appearance, ears folded back as his maw ripped into whatever meal he found. A maid. 

Blood covered her from chin to chest. Her throat torn out but she remains on the cusp of life with shredded vocal cords whimpering in her demise. 

She is beyond saving. You’d learnt that much long ago. 

Through her lidded eyes she sees you and her blood covered hand stretches out. Your eyes move down the wet crimson fingers to her pleading, fading eyes in the dark before they land on the beast engrossed in his meal to know the danger behind him. At first.

With a final plea for help, she tries to scream for you until she grows quiet completely in his arms. He becomes still and the fur along his back and shoulders bristle, ears perked up in awareness. Now he knows. Slowly he turns his large head to stare at you with blaring, amber eyes that intend to scorn you for your intrusion. You match his stare with as much disdain as he. 

“I smell your past sins, vânător de rude.” He points at you with an accusing, claw tipped finger. “You have no jurisdiction to judge me.” 

Your shoulders move up in a shrugging motion. “If only those words actually meant something to me.”

Your arms swiftly have risen up as the hammers flick to unlock the safe fire. The barrels of your twin revolvers blink white as you take the shot. The cracking of bullets meeting muscle and flesh is enough evidence to prove you hit him, blood splatters bleeding into the murky puddles and onto the street. 

With a grunt you push yourself up from the dirt and pursue him over steel enforced fences and more white sheets left to air out. They only serve as canvases to a blood smeared trail of your quarry. 

New York had made its progression into the modern world. From landscape and brick buildings, the city excelled more than a few schematics; onward and upward they always say. To this day that same nuisance stuck with you. Civilians and a plethora of them swarmed the streets alongside the line up of traffic. Busy. 

New York is constantly busy. And it tends to make your work harder to conceal when your targets flee into the open. Finding them within the crowd is never really the problem, but it’s the excessive bodies that don’t know to stay out of your way. 

Your bounty is simple, dare you say it, cliché it feels. You’ve played this narrative time and time again. This dance of execution one they try to escape by treading on your toes and running only to have you loop them back into the waltz of the hunt. 

Countless times you’ve seen the eyes of your prey widen when they realise there is no escape. 

You don’t get yourselves involved in the sob stories of the client or intended quarry, you were after the money that keeps you in that safe spot. All you dug up on your target is that they’re an ex-Hydra agent gone down the path of righteousness and betterment. Someone who finds peace in the work they’re involved in, cares for the people around them. A real advocate for being a humble hero. 

‘Alright.’

They venture down the stairs into the subways below. Oh, this is going to be a treat, you’re sure of it. A tight spot. Many witnesses. Hands clenching at your sides as you swagger after them, people knew to avoid bumping into you. Hidden beneath the thick layer of your coat, the one you’ve worn all this time, were your holstered twins. New York is unaware for the time being. 

Give it time, they would know. Your eyes of scarlet red would be plastered all over and your visage identified as the nightmare parchment and ink always captured you to be. Give it some time and it would be all over the news: The Convict Wolf strikes again. 

“Six bodies,” you grunt with a heave of the shovel. Your handler is quick to duck out of the way, a gas lantern in her grasp illuminating you several feet in the resting place of a half eaten merchant. Not even three days cold in his grave and the fiend had taken to him like flies on shit. 

Your handler’s other hand presses a clean, bright yellow handkerchief to her nose. But the smell filtered through given the glassy fog in her eyes. The smell of death rendered her weak in the gut and in constant battle with the bile that climbed her throat for release. 

“Wh-what does th-this mean?” She coughs into her handkerchief, bile and spittle at the edge of her tongue, you were sure of it. You shake your head rigorously akin to a dog shaking off water. Dirt falls from your hair in small forms of clouds. Your eyes find your handler’s uncertain gaze as she stares down at you; unnerved by the calmness you exude whilst standing in a grave. 

Any passers-by would suspect nefarious acts against the dead. Grave robbers and worse. 

“It means, my dear handler, that he is probably desperate for food and is too shy to make a move on living humans.” You hoist yourself up with a deep grunt, your handler bows down to loop a hand around the crook in your arm to pull. “Will he…” 

You hear your handler gulp the remainder of her sentence. You raise your brows in a knowing fashion. “It’s only a matter of time. Dead flesh doesn’t satisfy the shy for long.”

“Then we must hurry,” she says with great urgency to rid the city of this parasite. You pull something from a pouch on your belt. You hold the small box up in offering to your handler who only shakes her head fervently in horror. You shrug with a huff. “Suit yourself.”

You and your handler glance down at the corpse as you raise the flame-tipped match to burn the end of your cigarette. A father of two and husband to a meek, gentle tailor. The same one who’d fixed up the patches in your coat just a day ago. 

If only he could have afforded to be buried in the mausoleum. 

The lighting is shoddy at best down below in the subway, the mechanic hissing and howl of the train fast approaching indicates that you have maybe a minute at most to locate them. With a shallow breath you inhale their scent. 

Kin. 

It seems your nature as a hunter of your own never outgrew you. 

‘Is this a nasty habit?’

You don’t let it eat away at your conscience. You have a job to do and a client to satisfy. They’re waiting on the platform, hands tucked into the pockets of their jacket and chin forced down. You knew that scent that rolled along the back of your tongue with another inhale. 

Fear. 

Their heart rate picks up as you make to move after them just as the train rolls to a stop and the doors open. Your shoulders move in tandem with the power of your strut. Focus on your target leaves little regard to the rest of the world around you. Oftentimes you have shoved others aside, stopped traffic to downright mauling interlopers who had no right to involve themselves in your affairs; but thought themselves the hero. 

How well that turned out for them, their next of kin and nosey investigators could ask the medical records or the tombstones. 

They board the train in a hurry with the crowd around them. They won’t lose you that quickly. As you head for one of the doors down the train cart to avoid giving away your position, you bump into something. 

“Watch it,” you growl lowly as your arm sweeps around her waist to catch her against you before she is knocked off balance. 

She’s smaller than you. Dressed in a baggy, tan coloured zip up jacket and dark blue skinny jeans. Her hair is brushed back and her eyes take a moment to look at you from under the black cap. 

“Sorry, I–” You’ve already let her go. You don’t give her the chance to memorise your features to use as a testimony against you when your next killing goes public. You dare to peek over your shoulder at her, catching her eyes as she stares at you. The doors close behind you just in time as you board the train. 

With a roll of your eyes, you discard the clumsy girl to the back of your mind. Your eyes wander down the narrow path of the train cart. There they were. Your target. Another wolf. You always charge extra for these bounties. 

Their nervous eyes meet yours and the corner of your lips quirk up. The scent of their fear pollutes the train, it masks over the humans. Unaware, unsuspecting humans. You reach a hand to unholster one of your revolvers, thumb caressing the hammer as you calculate the right moment. 

Mother Nature had always been just as cruel as she was kind. Even to her finest killers. It was the beauty of her, really. 

In the world your kind lives in, a chain of command exists. Even if it will further taint your already sullied name, all will know it. That clumsy girl with the bright green eyes whose smaller body you held pinned against your solid front. She will know your sullied name.

The Convict Wolf strikes again.

You think about that girl again and you see eyes once filled with fear turn to anger. They glow a bright scarlet, just as yours do. As they always do. There was no use hiding what you really were. 

Because in the world werewolves live in, there is a hierarchy; and you’ve always preferred to be on top. 

(◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —

@alexawynters

[tojisun]

our shallow graves — 02

recom miles quaritch x recom fem reader

!! smut (between fwb outside of main pair) - minors dni; heat (as theme); mean quaritch; power imbalance; reference to (made up) past; worldbuilding; fast slow-burn; switching povs; weapons; reader adopts a nickname (callsign) which gets used // 5.1k words

: luvv writing from a chara’s pov n not just the reader’s <33; my bff wanted a love triangle but noo there would never be, i swear; replaying lady gaga and thenbhd as i write this; i hope u guys would luv this!!

↦ hydra - recom machine gun (not the door gun in the samsons); y70 - bullpup rifle/skel bullpup

prev // m.list // next - tbp

camaraderie with the colonel seemed to deteriorate overnight. your only saving grace is that it seemed like no one understands why his slight recognition for your talents evaporated quickly, the team having been reduced to shooting you with concerned glances whenever quaritch continues to ice you out.

you wanted to believe that it didn’t bother you much, but the taste of failure sits heavy on the tip of your tongue. quaritch is your superior, someone you were willing to interact with at an arm’s length, but now, even that seems impossible. 

“give him time,” walker says as you two enter the gun range, modified with an open ceiling to allow your na’vi bodies to breathe without the need for the respirator. “he’s probably still pissed because recon was delayed but c’mon now, we need extra time to take on the hellhole pandora’s about to be.”

you hum, your mind far away, as you begin to line up in one of the shooting stalls. you feel bare without your hydra but walker insisted on practicing with the Y70. 

“for good time’s sake!” she said, laughing when you rolled your eyes at her, calling her out on the fact that she only preferred the rifle because it was what she was exceptional at. 

your tail swishes behind you slowly before stilling, suspended in the air – a perfect imitation of your focus. you purge your mind of all thoughts, steadying your breath as you gaze at the moving targets. thrill runs down your spine at the first fire, the bullet going through the head of the target in a clean, single shot right at its temple. it is almost too natural how you were able to fire off the other bullets, muscle memory kicking in as your years of experience rush back to you, engulfing you with a single focus.

clean shot upon clean shot; head, heart, lungs – every vital organ and artery that you were aiming at were hit. it is like nothing existed in that moment, not your new life or your repeating nightmares of your death or even quaritch. it is just you and that rifle, against the world.

it was the first real taste of freedom you ever had from the moment you woke up in pandora, fifteen years after the war. 

walker stalks towards you with a grin, her rifle slung on her shoulder, looking smug as she shows you her perfect tally. you grin at her, feeling your tail finally untense, swishing around in languid satisfaction. 

“look at you with the perfect shots,” she says, dramatically whistling as though she wasn’t a better marksman than you are. 

“i have a good teacher,” you reply, winking at her. she chuckles, shaking her head, and you wish she had her braids down just so you can see them bump against each other. 

“and you are welcome.” walker places a hand on her chest before bowing theatrically, making you erupt in hearty giggles. 

comfortable silence settles as you two walk back to your quarters, ears flicking at each sound that rumbles from the belly of the compound. 

the sensitivity of your heightened senses brings you back to the night the colonel caught you sneaking out of mansk’s room, pure anger shimmering within his beautiful golden eyes and poison coating his hissed-out words. you do not know what set him off – you do not want to believe that it simply had been because you and mansk fooled around, not when quaritch has done worse.

(in your brief encounter with the human colonel quaritch, you have seen them together only once. the babe was swaddled in thick blankets, leaving only tufts of sandy hair visible to curious eyes. 

you tried not to linger when you saw how the colonel walked around with the child in his arms, cradled gently, carefully, his usually-stern face melting into something kind. into something human.

the harbinger of destruction. a father.

you couldn’t wrap your head around the man. not even as you watched in silence, obscured from his line of sight, as he nuzzled his nose on the boy’s forehead, breathing him in.

pandora’s real first human, a boy blessed by eywa, and there he was, held in the hands of the man who would threaten her balance.)

“maria,” you call, slowing down your steps and turning to look at your friend.

walker hums, tilting her head to meet your gaze. “what’s up?”

“do you, uh, know what happened to the kid?” you didn’t need to specify who it is that you meant. 

she stops walking, her brows furrowing in hesitant confusion. you lick your lips, wondering if you might’ve overstepped, after all, walker may be your friend, but her loyalties will always be with the colonel. even back in hell’s gate, she always separated her friendship with you from her duty – it felt like she constantly lived two different lives. 

“it’s just that i can unwind with you,” she used to say, huffing when the clips she used to pin her bun got lost within the gelled strands of her hair. you would pull her to your bed, chuckling quietly, before taking over, gentle hands familiar with her hair like it was yours that you were grooming. 

“why do you ask?” walker responds, twisting so she can fully face you.

you shrug. “i don’t know,” you say, a half-truth. “the memories are coming back to me slowly and one of them is him.”

walker remains quiet, studying you with pursed lips and narrowed eyes, before a sigh creeps out of her lips. you feel your heart lighten up, your body uncoiling from the tension, and you shoot her a small smile, grateful for her trust. 

“i dunno, to be honest,” she says as you two begin walking again, your steps this time are more languid. you two don’t entertain the gawking humans who scurry out of the way as you and walker make your way back to your rooms, busy murmuring to each other.

“they probably sent him back to somewhere in terra where relatives could take care o’him.”

you grunt, nodding, choosing not to prod any more. 

just before the two of you can part ways to enter your respective rooms, lopez comes running down the hallway, hollering your names.

“les’ go! colonel’s back from the meeting, and word is that we get our mission today!”

“thank fuck for that!” walker whoops. she meets your eyes. “rico, come on!”

you try to ignore the sudden swoop of paranoia that settles in your stomach, choosing instead to follow as walker and lopez run to meet with the others. you had hoped that you would’ve been able to fix whatever it was that happened between you and the colonel before the mission, but it seems like you don’t have that privilege anymore.

it seems like with quaritch, you don’t get mercy. 

-------

just like what lopez said, the colonel returned with orders from the brass that you all would be sent out soon – the omatikaya stronghold changed upon the return of the humans, and now you are all tasked to draw jake sully out. you are all given a week to prepare for pandora’s beasts – you are aware that they meant the na’vi more than the actual animals roaming the lush jungle.

recon was cancelled, the new schedule no longer permitted such opportunity; the general had, instead, ordered your squad to move in and navigate the hard way. you tried not to shrink at the withering look that quaritch shot you as he mentioned that. mansk shifted close, as though to show that he stood with you even against the colonel’s seething glare, but it seemed like it was the wrong thing to do as quaritch only seemed to grow angrier. 

you tried your best not to react, but your tail dropped, coiling around your thigh in the face of the colonel’s disapproval. you are too ashamed to look at the others, not wanting to see their own disappointment or even their pity so you kept your eyes on quaritch, using his authority to hide from the attention that your squad was giving you.

the meeting reaches its end, the colonel ordering wainfleet and zdinarsik to take over. mansk hovers, falling into step with you as you both move to leave the room together when the colonel’s voice stops you.

“rico, you stay. mansk, y’r dismissed.”

mansk shoots you a quick glance before nodding at the colonel and leaving with the rest. wainfleet had taken the lead as they all marched out with zdinarsik covering their back, the taller recom nodding at you upon meeting your gaze before closing the door behind her.

there is silence in the war room as you stand still, waiting for quaritch to make the first move. you rack your mind for another fuck up that he can berate you with, but nothing comes up, leaving you grasping at nothing but the bubbling anxiousness gnawing at you. 

“i suggested to general ardmore that we bench you, rico.” he raises his hand at your visceral reaction – your jaw falling open as you flinch, protests about to slip from your lips, as a now-aborted step almost draws you close to him. “listen to me first, corporal.”

you blink at the realization that his voice doesn’t denote any malice, the rich baritone is painfully neutral, and you think, then, how hearing his indifference just stings a whole lot more. 

you remain silent, watching with bated breath as quaritch pulls a chair out and motions for you to sit down. your legs feel like lead as you fall into it with no grace, your body going taut with tension when the colonel takes the one just in front of you. 

the space between the two of you is decent – it is the normal distance – but you can’t help but feel the warmth emitting from his bigger figure, almost like your body is singing for him. you try to breathe through your mouth, afraid that you will get a whiff of his scent, reducing you into a puddle of uncertainty and need. 

you blink your glassy eyes up at him, trying to focus, to listen, but it is like all those times that quaritch pushed you away had made you hypersensitive about him. he is all you can focus on; past the need to prove to him of your worth, he is all that fills you up. the way he smells, the way his eyes study you, the way his voice rips through the static – you want all of it. 

heat builds up in the pit of your stomach.

fuck. 

“you doin’ ok there?” the colonel asks, his indifference melting as worry bleeds into his tone. 

“i, uhm,” you begin, your voice faltering. you try to reel in your mind, grinding your teeth to snap you from your trance. 

“yeah.” you clear your throat, breathing in shakily. “i mean, yes sir.”

quaritch grunts, his eyes still pinned on you. “this is exactly why i wanted to leave you behind.”

that brings you out of the haze, your attention snapping back into a singularity. “permission to ask why, sir?”

quaritch sighs. “the science pukes mentioned how y’r still lagging behind. kid, i’m gonna be honest with you – i can’t afford a weak link.”

his words feel like knives carving into you. you’ve always thrived in your capabilities – you wouldn’t have gone far if you weren’t good, if not one of the best, and yet, in his eyes, your single fumble has cost so much. 

“pandora is gonna eat you up and spit you out – well, it already did, otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. and yet, general ardmore still insisted that we take you.” 

you watch as the colonel leans over, eating up the miniscule distance between yourselves to peer at you. “tell me, rico. just why are you so important to her?”

you wish you have the answer; you wish you have anything to give to him, to make sense of your own purpose, but nothing comes up. it is like you’re constantly floating around, untethered, and yet severely burdened at the same time. they tell you how the general favours you, and yet she has yet to tell you that herself, leaving you alone in navigating your position amongst the other recoms. 

the loneliness doesn’t stop eating at you.

“colonel, i really don’t know,” you finally utter, breaking eye contact to stare at the ground. 

quaritch clicks his tongue. “no, there’s gotta be somethin’ i’m missin’. i read your files, you know that?” he grins meanly when your eyes snapped back to him. “oh yeah, i did. and imagine my goddamn disappointment when it showed me nothin’ noteworthy.”

he stands up, his voice gaining strength, and you realize that you can now see his fury in its entirety.

“yeah, you’ve got a way with flying, but that skill’s practically useless unless we can get our own banshees. and even then, they ain’t machines – your skill’s obsolete. y’ve got a way with guns, sure, but so do the rest of my squad; it ain’t just lyle who’s got a great shot, after all. and yeah y’r hand-to-hand combat is good, but it ain’t the best.”

you feel tears pooling in the corner of your eyes as quaritch continues his admonishment. you feel like everything that you are is suspended in the air, carelessly peeled off and overturned until you are nothing but your skin and bones.

“y’know what i saw?” the colonel asks in a barely-contained snarl. 

you do not reply, but it doesn’t matter to him anyway. 

“i saw how y’r just a goddamn nobody because if you were any better, i would’ve taken you in before. so tell me rico, just what the hell are you doin’ here?”

you do not know what urged you to do it, but next thing you know you are standing mere inches before the colonel, breaching his personal space to poke at his chest. “i don’t need to prove myself to you,” you hiss. 

(it was a lie. after all, it was all you wanted to do. for him to acknowledge you. for him to – what do the na’vis call it? – see you.)

quaritch scoffs, pausing, before he lunges forward to grip your jaw, forcing your head to tilt up and making you look at him. you feel your breath leave your lungs, the blood rushing to your ears and deafening you. anything else seemed to stop, leaving you alone with your petering rage as you gaze up at him.

his breath tickles your lips and you gasp, soundless, feeling the desire exploding in your chest. you do not know what it is that he originally wanted to do because in the next heartbeat, just a slight stutter, all you feel is his lips meeting yours. 

quaritch devours your hiccuped squeak, his searing lips moving against your own, pulling out more of the little desperate sounds from your throat only for them to be swallowed hungrily by him. the kiss is hot, messy, but you can’t help but be obsessed with it.

his scent fills you up, settling deep in your chest and making you throb with want. you grip his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to touch more of him. but at the feeling of your hands, quaritch rips his lips from yours and scurries to back away from you.

you stand there, your chest heaving as you catch your breath, feeling your lips tingle from his kiss. you watch as his face crumples at the realization of what he’s done before it reverts back into faux stoicism, as though he isn’t affected by the kiss. as though he doesn’t feel the same burning desire that engulfed you whole.

“colonel-”

“no fraternizing with a squad member,” quaritch utters before he lifts his hand up to rub at his lips with the back of his palm.

“oh, so now we’re following the golden rule?” you mutter, the words bubbling out before you can stop them. 

you know that you crossed a line at the mention of what he’s done with socorro but you are too filled with a blazing storm of conflicting feelings, rendering you uninhibited as they clash in your chest and drain you of all your energy. you feel yourself shake at the intensity of your emotions – of your yearning – but the colonel continues to stand far away. far from your grasp.  

he’s made his decision. 

“get going, corporal. y’r dismissed.”

you run out of the room, not caring of the way the tears slip from the corners of your eyes to drench your cheeks, and pretending that you cannot smell the faint scent of the colonel sticking to you.

pretending that you do not feel something in you break. 

-------

looking for mansk was the easy part. not using him to drown out the weight of your conflicting feelings, that was the hard part. 

mansk has taken you in his arms, cradling you close as you wept on the crook of his neck. he was silent, like he already knew what it is that aches you, and you wonder how could he. you barely knew why you feel betrayal sit in the pit of your stomach; why you feel so drawn to quaritch – attuned to the sound of his voice and the staccato of his footsteps.

why do you ache for his touch?

if it is heat, if it is all biology, mansk does a good enough job in extinguishing the flames of painful need curling within your blood. and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from seeking out bigger and rougher hands and a gruffer voice, the southern accent looping around the vowels, making your stomach clench with desire.

quaritch is all that you’ve ever wanted ever since he first called your name, unknown familiarity sinking in your chest like a rock chucked to the ocean – the paradox is a metaphor of your feelings. funny, isn’t it?

“i don’t understand,” you murmur, sniffling as you pull your head from mansk’s shoulder. you wipe at your eyes, groaning at the futility of it when fresh tears fall and drench your cheeks anyway. 

mansk remains silent, his hands have fallen from your back to grasp at your wrists, the warmth from his palms not doing anything to soothe your nerves.

“it’s like he needed that little blip in my performance to finally rationalize the hate he feels for me, and then it just didn’t stop,” you continue, breathing in shakily. “and i wish i could just ignore him but, fuck, i can’t.”

you shake yourself from mansk’s touch, standing up from his bed to pace around his room. the pads of your feet are quiet on the metal floors and you ignore the shot of coolness that comes with every step. your braids, chopped just below your jaw, frame your face with stray strands sticking on your damp cheeks despite your frantic moving. 

“he’s there and he’s nowhere at the same time, devin. like, i try my best to avoid him but he’s always a consistent presence in my life. it doesn’t fucking matter if he’s ignoring me, not when he’s always in the same room, within the same space.” your voice raises, scratching your throat as anger and hurt bubble up, ever-so expanding until you are grasping at the remnants of your rationality. 

“and i want him. i feel like dying when i’m not with him and he-” you pause, a choked sob getting punched out from your lungs. mansk startles, clambering from his bed to hover by your side, not really closing in but standing just near enough that you can see the downturn of his ears, his worry etched on his face. 

“he doesn’t feel the same way, dev.” 

you crumble, feeling lightheaded from the explosion of anguish burning at your seams, and mansk finally embraces you. 

the first kiss was hesitant, chapped lips meeting bruised ones, and he doesn’t move until you are pawing at his shirt and tugging him close. mansk falls into his role easily, nipping your bottom lip as a distraction which you take eagerly.

quaritch’s snarl from many nights ago creep into your mind, his southern accent tearing through the sudden buzz of mansk’s touch, taunting you – “you reek.” 

you think just how upsetting it is to feel your desire expand into fanned flames at the memory of quaritch. at the memory of his anger – the only thing of him that he’s given to you freely. 

mansk rips his lips from yours, panting, his eyes dilated with desire. “rico, y’smell so good.”

your shirt is torn from your body, your cargos thrown over broad shoulders – not broad enough, not tall enough, not angry enough. 

you try to forget, to stop thinking, as mansk fucks you; thin fingers sliding along your slit and sinking into your heat, curling to prepare you for his length. not even the way three of his fingers overwhelm you with the feeling of being stuffed can silence the thoughts – ‘not thick enough, not long enough, not rough enough’ – and you bury your face on his pillow, trying to smother the tears. 

the slide of his cock should’ve rendered your mind into white static, but it seems like your veins are thrumming with a visceral need, one that you know only quaritch can quell. 

“choke me,” you mumble, blinking wetly up at mansk, your chest heaving at the muted desire filling you up. 

“what?” mansk asks, breathless, his body shaking from the crashing heat. 

“choke me,” you repeat, this time clearer. 

mansk hesitates, his wide eyes growing bigger, his scent curling into something darker. the wrap of his hand around your throat is sure, gentle despite your plea, before he squeezes. the pressure grounds you, feeding into your desperation. into your delusions. 

(you think of quaritch. it seems like you never stop thinking about him. 

he will take you the same way lava takes everything – devouring beyond flesh, nipping right into the core until all it leaves is the flames of a thousand suns. his desires will crush you, filling up the spaces between your blood vessels and your synapses with nothing but him. 

and you will love it. you will let yourself be scorched because ever since you have met him, all you knew was fire and how they lick up into your chest, swallowing your heart, almost like they are branding his name directly in you. 

like you have belonged to him even before.)

mansk wipes you with a towel, murmuring soft apologies when your body jolts in oversensitivity at the rough drag of the cloth. he passes you his shirt and then pulls you underneath the sheets, tucking you in for the night. 

“thank you,” you say, weakly smiling at him.

mansk returns the smile, brushing your braids away from your face. “just like old times.”

your eyebrows furrow, confusion triumphing over exhaustion. “old times?”

“yeah,” he grunts, falling beside you. “you’ve always liked the colonel and granted we didn’t fuck then, but you always vented to me so, y’know?”

mansk’s words wash over you like a crashing tide, pulling you from the shore and submerging you into the depths of the unknown. you grasp at your memories, flitting from one to the other, trying to find pieces of your affection for the colonel only to fall short. surely, you would’ve remembered. surely, the feelings, with how intense they are, did not just go away; that you did not just lose a piece of yourself.

you think of the haunting, how the colonel and socorro appear in your memories in fragments, and feel a twinge in your heart. was it not indifference? that all this time when you remembered her, when you used her to learn more about quaritch, it was because you liked him too? 

were you always a fool like this? searching for bits of quaritch in the hands of another, trying to claim the stray parts like they could be yours to begin with. 

“rico?” mansk’s voice breaks through your reverie. 

“i… i don’t remember.”

he turns to you in surprise. “what do you mean you don’t remember?”

“just that,” you say, your voice faint. “i don’t- i can’t remember.”

-------

the moment miles saw his reflection – blue and distinctly not human – he knew there was little of himself left in the hellhole that pandora had become. autonomy and freedom no longer meant much, not when he’s become a weapon. 

he’s died once, they said. had he still been the commanding officer in the compound, he’d have the shrink do drills at the stupidity of pointing out his untimely and obvious demise. 

no fucking shit he died. miles would’ve remembered turning into a goddamn na’vi if he didn’t. 

but, at the end of the day, his anger didn’t matter. like a freak show, he’s back – not really as the same man, but similar enough that the old colonel’s ghost thrums with hymns of vengeance, carrying over to miles’ own person. because miles may not remember his death, but he remembers jake sully’s betrayal.

the boy had chosen his people and miles had chosen his, it is that simple. 

the mission was straight-forward, but miles isn’t deluded enough to assume that it would be just as easy. he’s failed once already, after all. perhaps being a na’vi could switch the tides; perhaps being one wouldn’t matter – whatever it may be, miles is ready to carry the burden of killing jake sully.

with a single focus, miles lets the unfamiliarity of his new body roll off his skin like dew before forcing himself to learn and to adapt. painstakingly, he even tried to salvage the pieces of augustine’s research, hoping to find any scraps of information regarding the na’vi in her ramblings, but the compound has scrubbed themselves off the traitor’s books. don’t mind the fact that augustine’s the best goddamn na’vi expert, apparently, they rather bitch around under the pretence of unnecessary patriotism, instead of taking advantage of her research. 

when he asked who he should talk to regarding their physio, he was told that augustine was replaced by cooper. unsurprisingly, cooper was unable to fill in the shoes that augustine left, but miles preferred him anyway. the man has lesser empathy, lesser curiosity about the wonders of pandora. 

‘that’s good,” miles thought upon meeting cooper. ‘checkups will be clinical. none of that bitchin’ about morals.’

which was why it should’ve been easy transitioning into his recombinant body. it should’ve been.

then, you came along.

sweet, little, pretty thing that you are. you don’t even know what you do to him, walking around looking like you’re pulled straight  from miles’ spank bank material. you look darling with your short braids, pulled back with little clips like those that he remembers walker using, as your smooth voice ripples against the heavy tension building in miles’ chest.

there’s always this sweet scent that follows you, and it reminds miles of something that he couldn’t really pin down. it’s faint, teasing his senses with the little bursts until he began to be addicted to it. to be addicted to you.

he had been content with only getting a whiff from every time the two of you crossed paths, your chin ducking down in respect, saluting so beautifully that it had miles pretending that he didn’t have the itch to pat your head in approval. 

(you looked like the type to adore praises; the type to want to hear how you’re being such a good girl. all for him.)

he didn’t want to pursue more, remembering what happened when he last made that mistake, but it just felt so impossible to dismiss his interest in you as something that is only fleeting; something that is only physical, bound by the biological nature of his new body. 

maybe if he just pushed back harder against the general, then maybe he could be rid of you. maybe there would be nothing thrumming underneath his skin – he refuses to call it desire, afraid that by doing so, he would chain himself to the ache that he feels – and maybe you would no longer be his growing problem.

then: a spike in the air churned the insides of miles’ head, bolting his legs onto the floor. there was a sort of static, a rumbling charge that pierced past metal walls and choked miles into madness. 

he didn’t even realize what it was until he picked up the sound of your voice, pleasure curling against your words as you cried out a name. miles felt lightheaded, warmth crept up from his fingertips to the base of his neck.

(a shackle, one that spelt out your name. 

again, do you know what you do to him? what you reduce him to?)

the scent of your euphoria sent him into a feverish state, molten lava replacing blood as he burned. his breaths came out in ragged rasps, and miles gulped down the air as though he could taste you from it. as though that would’ve been enough.

miles knew what danger looked like, he knew what it smelt like, but he never expected that it would take your shape, testing him past his capabilities. so he lied, spitting in anger and lashing out as he held your hand, ignoring the way his skin tingled when it met yours, and he watched as your eyes glimmered with hurt.

fine. that’s fine. miles repeated this mantra until he clambered into his room, almost tripping over his boots, and made his way to his bed. 

there was a heavy pressure in miles’ ears as he tore off his belt, his teeth snapped together as he pulled his length out and fucked into his fist, breathing into the other one to chase the fading scent that you left. 

he lost himself in his thoughts, imagining that it had been him who reduced you into a moaning mess. that it had been him who you came to for your heat; that it had been him who made you cry, your whimpers slipping past shut doors until everyone could hear your sweet cries.

miles has always been possessive, he doesn’t need the soul drive to know that.

his orgasm ripped through him in muted pleasure, not enough to stoke the heat rumbling deep in his belly.

“fuck!” he growled, frustration bubbling up into his mouth as he screwed his eyes shut, trying to forget the way you look; the way you walk, the way you shoot your hydra or the way you maneuver a bird as though you and the machine are one. 

but it was futile. he’s ruined. 

you’ve ruined him.

prev

tagging (pls lmk if you wanna be added or removed!) - @hinataashoyos @babyduk213 @ilovebluedilfss

[auspicioustidings]

good girl tearing through graves and kortac to get good boy (and herself) hour of the pound my beloved…..

God you write them so well, everything is so good i’m like frothing at the mouth whenever you update‼️

i cant stop thinking about good girl finally making it back to 141 and the Vaqueros with good boy and both groups of men trying so hard to show that they’re happy she’s back too but none of it working because she’s been through too much

none of them can touch her. it hurts too bad. she nearly bit Rudy and Soap’s hands off while they tried to pet her hair while she was eating. she even tears apart a book that Ghost gets her because it has to be a trick.

they’re just trying to get her comfortable and pliant again so they can ship her off wherever in the world next, or find some reason for her to slip up so they can punish her, or get her into their bed and she won’t have it

(deep down, past a certain point of Stockholm syndrome, she just started to want them to like her. she just wanted the softness and the sweetness good boy got. she wanted to be their girl and their pet.

why was she never good enough?)

Oh that last line hits so hard <3

Ok so starting with the escape, there are a couple of big fuck ups that allow you to tear your way out of there.

Nikto was never allowed to fuck you because they view him as a feral animal who would have gotten too possessive and dangerous had he been given the opportunity, they did not consider he's been simmering with resentment over it and waiting for his opportunity to tear apart the handlers who cattle prodded him whenever he would try get under your clothes during training (he already is possessive and weird about you and the idea of you running wild out in the world gets his blood racing)

Mace was Ghost's pet before he was ever the pound's and his loyalty will always lie with his original master first - Ghost was a good master and Mace wants that for you

Roze would usually not get involved, but she's found that recently seeing you crying is making her furiously uncomfortable so she wants you out of here

Kate has been biding her time on taking the pound down after she 'adopted' her (future at the time) wife from them, she's never forgiven them for the state they put that woman in - them pissing off the 141 & Los Vaqueros presents her with the perfect time to activate sleeper agent Alex (who you haven't seen, but he has seen you) because she knows that this time they won't stop her

Alex has been trying to help you this whole time and getting increasingly upset about not being able to do more (Halloween week should have been so much worse for you, but so many of Konig's people conveniently had emergencies that week and had to skip their hour)

There are people in that building clearing a path for you in the shadows. You don't come across Horangi because he's currently hiding from Nikto, knowing if he is caught then he's absolutely fucked. Most of the 'nurses' are foaming at the mouth after being poisoned by Roze while Mace and Graves are in a fight to the death inside the clinic. The first time you have ever seen Alex is when he runs into you and good boy in the hall, hands you a knife with a nod and then takes off to deal with the people on your tail.

Good boy talks to you. Like fully, truly talks to you. You don't remember after because it's all a complete blur, but he was a human man fighting tooth and nail to protect the woman he loved during that escape.

Nobody has been able to stop Konig. He blocks the exit and he's so huge and you are so terrified of him from all that he's done to you. He's confident in your submission, backhands your boyfriend when he tries to get between you and tugs the o-ring on your collar to bring you towards him. "Trying to fly away from me spatzi? Come, let us clip your wings."

He truly thinks you will acquiesce, he is smiling indulgently with that ever horrible glint in his eyes that means he is excited about punishing you. You use the knife the man in the hallway gave you and bury it in his belly. You pull it across and rip it back out. You do not stop to give him any last words, you do not yell at him or tell him how you feel about him nor do you let him do the same to you. Because he's not worth your fucking time. You just grab your boyfriend and keep fucking going.

You meet Ale and Ghost near the entrance. They have started fighting their way in while you were fighting your way out and oh boy are they surprised to see you snarling and covered in blood barrelling towards the exit. Your body gives out on you as you fight hard against Ghost, only managing to bury the knife in his shoulder before he has your failing limbs restrained. The last thing you see is your boyfriend's face near yours. He's crying you think.

When you wake up in a new place (it's a lakehouse, beautiful but it does not escape your notice that it's in the middle of the wilderness), you're too unwilling to let anyone near you to notice things. People were on your side. Most of the men in this house are injured (Gaz nearly died, Price is in a sling for months) because in the background they were willing to die fighting to get you out of there. It's how good boy got caught, they were all throwing themselves into danger to get to you. You had people inside the pound who were on your side and you never would have gotten out without them.

But you don't know any of that. So yes, you are stuck thinking that you were never good enough to be their good girl. You had to get yourself out of there after all. They only came because good boy was there, because it couldn't possibly have been for you. You tried so hard to get them to like you and it failed. They had a tracker in you (the pound cut that out the first day), so they must have let the pound pick you up. They don't want you, they're just stuck with you because of good boy.

You are not loveable. You don't have the ability to be good. So you don't try because you can't face being rejected again. Better you be bad and don't let anyone close. Better you actively try at something you know you will succeed at, making everyone want to stay away from you.

[tenaciouschronicler]

July 8 2024 2009

Hash continues to be The Worst TM, but if it means seeing someone else deal with shenanigans of the Sylladex kind then so be it.

Finally aquiring a Towel, not to be confused with a Damp one, Dave makes his way to clean up the piss-adjacent liquid covering the turntable.

He then hangs the Betas to dry on the line. First point here, arent they discs? Wouldnt it be best to take them out of the envelopes and wipe them down? Whatever floats your boat kid.

To hasten the drying Dave turns on his fan. We get a close up shot of the two envelopes and find that they do not both have the same house image on them. The Client side, as we know, is the one with the house. The other, by process of elimination, is the Server side and seems to have the spirograph we have become semi-familiar with.

In any case, having them flap in the wind close to an open window spells disaster. Luckily Dave notices this and turns the fan off. So how does he lose the game then?

We take a panel to see Dave is Very self-confident in his Modus operations compared to John.

You wonder if he is anywhere near as smooth with his sylladex as you are.

Sure Dave. A box to the face and juice on the turntables are definitely smooth moves...

'Suddenly a RAMBUNCTIOUS CROW flies in the open window and snatches the beta'

Oh. OH! OH THIS IS GOOD! I love his little sprite raging and shaking while the crow just flaps faster than any bird ive ever seen. What a way to lose a game friend, clearly nothing could make this worse...

You yell at the bird.

Oh,

My,

God,

DAVE!

Not only did he did he activate his secret trap (sword) card, he broke not one but TWO panes of glass with the sheer force of the projectile sword.

No one can ever know about this.

That is the face of someone whos gonna take the secret to his grave. Just look at that little exclamation point betraying his absolute shock at what just happened.

Im so sorry Dave. Your secret is Not safe with us.

[euphoriacafe]

You Belong to Me

WARNING: free use??, lewd srry, threesome???, afab reader, fingering, sexual tension, mention of BDSM, aggressive, MDNI

Pairing: Captain Price x Phillip Graves x Female Reader

Summary: Graves is really getting under Captain Price's nerves and Price decides to vent onto you to the point he becomes jealous of the assignment he gives you. Part 2??? Thoughts???

I stood in silence, a vigilant shadow among the elite soldiers of Task Force 141. The weight of my gear felt almost comforting against my frame, a stark contrast to the tension thickening the air around us. My eyes remained fixed on the back of Captain Price, a beacon of unwavering authority amidst the storm brewing in the room.

Commander Phillip Graves, the embodiment of Shadow Company's relentless pursuit of power, stood opposite Captain Price. His presence alone was suffocating, a reminder of the fine line we walked between duty and defiance.

As they exchanged heated words, I couldn't help but feel the weight of their rivalry bearing down on my shoulders. Graves's piercing gaze swept over the room, his eyes lingering on me for a moment too long, a silent challenge that I refused to acknowledge.

"Price, you know damn well this mission is our best shot at taking down Makarov," Graves growled, his voice laced with contempt.

Price's response was measured, his tone cutting through the tension like a blade. "And you think I don't know that, Graves? But sending in a full assault team is suicide. We need a surgical strike, precision over firepower."

I could feel the tension mounting with each passing moment, the air thick with the unspoken threat of violence. But I remained rooted in place, my focus unwavering despite the storm raging around me.

Graves took a step forward, his gaze narrowing on Price. "You're letting your personal agenda cloud your judgment, Price. We can't afford to miss this opportunity."

Price's jaw clenched, his resolve unyielding. "And I won't let you jeopardize the lives of my team for the sake of your ego, Graves."

The room seemed to hold its breath as the two titans locked horns, the weight of their words hanging in the air like a promise of never ending conflict.

Graves scoffed, his eyes flickering to me briefly before returning to Price. "Maybe if you kept a tighter leash on your team, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place, now would we?"

My jaw clenched at the insinuation. I knew Price could handle himself, but the personal attacks only fueled the fire. I glanced at Captain Price, silently urging him to maintain control.

Price straightened, his gaze unwavering. "Graves, my team is the best damn group of soldiers you'll ever have the privilege to work with. We'll get the job done, with or without your approval."

But before the tension could escalate further, Price turned his gaze to me, a silent command passing between us. Without a word, I fell into formation beside him, a silent reminder of where my loyalty lay.

Graves took a step forward, his gaze locking onto mine for a split second before returning to Price. "You may be the golden boy of 141, Price, but don't think for a second that your reputation grants you immunity from the harsh realities of war."

I exhaled slowly, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins as I turned to face Price. He met my gaze with a knowing look, his eyes conveying a silent reassurance.

As the door slammed shut behind him, I exhaled a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, the weight of the confrontation lifting from my shoulders

"We'll make this right, Y/N," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. Everything in the air made it known that Price was more than pissed off.

The tension in the room seemed to thicken as the door slammed shut behind Graves, leaving only Captain Price and me in its wake. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, intense and piercing, as if searching for something hidden beneath the surface.

"Y/N," he began, his voice low and gruff, "Keep your eyes open, lass, more on Graves, if anything. He's a loose cannon, and I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

I nodded, my jaw set in determination. "Consider it done, sir."

I nodded, my throat tight with unspoken words. The proximity between us, the charged atmosphere, made it hard to ignore the undercurrents swirling beneath the surface.

Price's gaze narrowed, his face inches away from mine as he spoke in a hushed tone. "This mission's gonna be a bloody mess, but we'll get through it. I know we will...especially when I have my eye on you. "

His words lingered in the air, and I felt the warmth of his breath against my skin as he came closer. The proximity was both unnerving and electrifying, a dance on the edge of something unspoken. The closer he stepped the more his eyes bore into mine, dark and intense, as if daring me to look away.

"He pisses me off, Y/N," he muttered, his breath warm against my skin. "The way he thinks he can waltz in here and call the shots. It's like he's trying to undermine everything we stand for."

I held his gaze, refusing to back down in the face of his frustration. "We won't let him, sir. We'll show him that Task Force 141 doesn't bend to the will of anyone but ourselves."

Price's expression softened, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "That's the spirit, Y/N. Just keep your wits about you, and don't let Graves get under your skin when you watch over him, alright, lass?"

I nodded, a surge of determination coursing through me. "I won't, sir. You can count on me."

My voice almost came off breathy, as I looked up to match his eyes the heat of his hand as he reached out was almost scorching wanting him to touch already.

A sudden knock on the door shattered the moment, and Price pulled away, his expression a mix of frustration and resolve as his voice was rough and quiet. "Damn interruptions."

And with that, Price took a step back, the tension in the room dissipating slightly. "I know I can, Y/N," he said, his voice tinged with pride. "Now let's get to work. Report back to me if anything happens with Graves."

The training room buzzed with activity as Ghost, Soap, and I engaged in rigorous combat drills. The sound of fists meeting pads echoed off the walls, mingling with grunts of exertion and the occasional bark of instruction from our trainers, the sharp clang of metal against metal, the swift thud of boots on the floor. .

I focused on my form, channeling the adrenaline of the upcoming mission into each strike and parry. Beside me, Ghost moved with effortless grace, his movements fluid and precise. Soap, ever the powerhouse, unleashed a barrage of punches with relentless determination.

But amidst our intensity, my gaze kept drifting across the room to where Graves stood with his Shadow Company comrades. They moved with a calculated efficiency, their movements sharp and controlled. Graves watched his men with a critical eye, his expression unreadable as he assessed our performance.

"Focus, Y/N," Ghost's voice snapped me back to the present, his eyes narrowed in concern. "You're letting your guard down."

I nodded, refocusing on the task at hand as I kept punching the punching bag in front of me.

Across the room, Graves moved quickly and steadiness, his gaze piercing as he critiqued the movements of his Shadows. My eyes involuntarily drifted to him once again, analyzing every nuance of his posture, the way he held his weapon, the calculated precision in his steps. It was a habit I'd developed, a skill honed through years of working in the covert world of Task Force 141.

Price's orders resonated in my mind – keep a close eye on Graves, understand his tactics, anticipate his moves. It was a chess game, and I was determined to stay one step ahead. My attention, however, wavered as my thoughts meandered into uncharted territories.

Graves was undeniably attractive, a fact that I acknowledged with a detached professionalism. But in the midst of the training room, my mind took an unexpected turn. Images flickered like elusive shadows – Price, Graves, and myself entangled in a dance of desire. The scenario played out in my mind, a surreal concoction of forbidden fantasies that I struggled to reconcile with the reality of our mission.

I shook my head, attempting to refocus on the training at hand. Ghost and Soap exchanged glances, sensing the shift in my concentration. I forced a smile, pushing the inappropriate thoughts to the recesses of my mind.

As the session progressed, Price joined us in the training room, his eyes scanning the dynamic between Graves and his subordinates. He approached me, his gaze piercing through the layers of my composure.

"Y/N," he said in a low voice, "keep your focus. Graves is a slippery one, and I need you sharp."

I nodded, the gravity of Price's words grounding me. The fantasies dissipated, replaced by a steely resolve.

The training room pulsated with energy as Ghost and Soap engaged in a series of fluid movements on the wrestling mat. Their bodies moved in tandem, a seamless dance of combat that showcased the camaraderie forged through countless missions. Captain Price, ever the hands-on leader, stepped onto the mat, ready to test his skills against his trusted teammates.

I leaned against the wall, observing the intense exchange. Ghost and Soap moved with practiced precision, each maneuver a testament to their training and experience. The sounds of grunts and thuds filled the air as they grappled, a display of raw strength and tactical finesse.

Price joined the fray, his movements fluid and calculated. He sparred with Ghost and Soap, each exchange a symphony of skill and strategy. Despite the controlled chaos on the mat, a heavy tension lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the usual banter that accompanied training sessions.

As I watched the three men grapple, my attention shifted momentarily to Graves, who stood on the sidelines, observing with a smug grin. His eyes locked onto Price, taunting him with a challenge that hung in the air like a storm on the horizon.

"You think you've still got it, Price?" Graves called out, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Or has age finally caught up with you?"

Price shot him a steely glare but continued his sparring with Ghost and Soap. The tension in the room escalated, the weight of unspoken challenges adding an electric charge to the atmosphere.

Ghost and Soap, sensing the undercurrent of tension, increased the intensity of their movements. The grappling on the wrestling mat became more aggressive, each maneuver a subtle assertion of dominance. I could feel the room holding its breath, awaiting the inevitable clash between Price and Graves.

Graves, undeterred by Price's silence, stepped forward, his taunts escalating. "Come on, Price! Show us you're not past your prime. Or are you scared of facing a real challenge?"

The room fell into an uneasy silence as Price finally stepped away from the sparring match. His eyes locked onto Graves, a storm brewing within them. The air became charged with anticipation as the two leaders, each a force to be reckoned with, faced off in a battle of wills.

"Fine," Price growled, the words like thunder in the silence. "Let's settle this."

The wrestling mat became the arena for a different kind of battle, one fueled by personal vendettas and a history of animosity. As Ghost and Soap retreated, creating a makeshift ring for the impending brawl, I watched with a mix of concern and fascination.

I couldn't shake the feeling of impending disaster as Graves arrogantly dismissed my attempt to intervene. I stepped forward, my voice cutting through the charged atmosphere. "Gentlemen, maybe this isn't the best—"

Graves turned his gaze towards me, a condescending smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, the little lady thinks she knows best," he remarked, his tone dripping with disdain.

Graves his eyes returned back to Price "Sweetheart, this is a man's business. Why don't you step off the mat and let us handle it?"

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Before I could respond, Price interjected with a glare that could cut through steel. "Enough, Graves. Let's get on with it."

Graves chuckled, a patronizing tone underlying his words. "You're getting old, Price. Maybe you need a bit more time to catch your breath."

Price's jaw tightened, his patience wearing thin. "Enough talk, Graves. Let's see if your skills match your mouth."

The room fell into a tense silence as Ghost and Soap backed away, creating a circle for the impending showdown. I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just a physical clash; it was a battle of egos, a test of dominance that had the potential to fracture the unity of the team.

Price and Graves circled each other like predators, their movements measured and deliberate. And then, with a sudden surge of movement, they clashed.

The sound of bodies colliding echoed through the room, a symphony of brute force and primal instinct. Price and Graves grappled with ferocity, each maneuver executed with precision and determination.

The wrestling match between Captain Price and Graves unfolded with an intensity that seemed to transcend the physical realm. Their bodies collided with a wham that echoed through the training room, the sound of fists connecting and grunts of exertion filling the air. It was a deadly fight, a struggle for dominance played out on the wrestling mat.

Price and Graves grappled, each attempting to gain the upper hand. Their movements were swift and calculated, a chaotic ballet that showcased the raw power and skill of two seasoned warriors. Fists flew, each blow a testament to the unspoken animosity that fueled their rivalry. Graves's men cheered from their side of the mat for him while Ghost and Soap stood arms crossed watching silently.

As I watched, my thoughts swirled in a black sea of conflicting emotions. The air crackled with the energy of their clash, the heavy weight of their egos blinding them to the potential consequences of their actions.

In the midst of the struggle, a dangerous undercurrent of desire flickered within me. It was a treacherous territory, the primal intensity of their fight awakening a forbidden longing and almost tugging on the fantasy. Their bodies entwined in a battle for dominance, their egos waging war, and a part of me yearned for that same fierce determination to be directed toward me.

To have them fight over me, pin me against the mat, to have them fight for control on who gets to own me.

My breath caught in my throat as I felt a wave of heat surge through me. The intensity of the fight seemed to seep into my skin, and I found myself becoming breathless, my pulse quickening. It was a dangerous game, the line between duty and desire blurred by the charged atmosphere in the room.

Their bodies moved with a fluidity that spoke of years of training and combat experience. Each attempt to pin the other to the mat was met with a countermove, a dance of strength and strategy. The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken understanding that this was more than a physical contest—it was a battle for supremacy.

As the wrestling match continued, I couldn't escape the awareness that my desires were navigating through my body. The primal allure of the struggle, the intoxicating scent of sweat and determination, left me feeling disoriented, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm.

The realization of the dangerous territory I was treading only heightened the allure, and I felt an internal struggle between duty and the untamed yearning that stirred within me.

The room seemed to close in around me as the fight reached its climax. I was torn between the duty to my team and the intoxicating pull of something forbidden. As their bodies grappled for dominance, I found myself teetering on the edge, a silent spectator to a battle that transcended the physical, leaving me breathless and yearning for something I dared not admit.

Graves's smirk widened as he caught me in a moment of vulnerability, lost in my own thoughts as I watched the aftermath of their brawl. His knowing gaze lingered on me for a moment before he turned away, a silent acknowledgment passing between us.

Captain Price's voice shattered the spell, pulling me back to reality with a jolt as he was looking at me with a deadpanned glare. "Y/N," he called out, his tone firm but jealously. "In my office. Now."

I swallowed hard, tearing my gaze away from Graves and following Price out of the training room. The air crackled with tension as we entered his office, the weight of unspoken frustrations hanging heavy between us.

Price closed the door behind us with a decisive click, his expression tight with frustration. "Graves is a damn nuisance," he muttered under his breath, his frustration palpable.

I nodded in silent agreement, the memory of their brawl still fresh in my mind. But before I could offer any words of reassurance, Price closed the distance between us in a blur of motion.

With a sudden, unexpected movement, he pushed me against the wall, his lips ghosting my neck in a tantalizing caress. My breath caught in my throat, my pulse racing as his proximity ignited a fierce longing within me.

"Price," I whispered, the word a breathless plea as his touch sent shivers down my spine. But he didn't respond, his lips trailing a path of fire along my skin, igniting a firestorm of desire within me.

Every inch of my skin tingled as Captain Price's lips continued their tantalizing journey along my neck. My breath hitched, and I tilted my head back, offering him unrestricted access. His grip on my hips tightened, a silent declaration of possession that sent a shiver through me.

The air in the room crackled with frustration and a potent undercurrent of desire. It was a dangerous game, a dance on the razor's edge of forbidden fantasies and the harsh reality of duty. The line between the two blurred, and I found myself caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Price's voice, low and gravelly, resonated in the small confines of his office. "Graves is a thorn in our side, Y/N," he murmured against my skin, his words sending a rush of heat through me. "But I don't like the way you were looking at him."

My heart skipped a beat, and I swallowed hard, the tension in the room escalating. The raw honesty in Price's words hung heavy in the air, a revelation that added an unexpected layer to our already complicated dynamic.

"He's nothing but trouble," he continued, his lips trailing upwards towards my ear. "And I won't have you getting distracted by his games."

His breath fanned over the sensitive skin of my ear, and I struggled to find my voice amid the rising tide of desire. The frustration in Price's words mirrored the tumultuous feelings within me, the magnetic pull of his touch warring with the rational voice urging caution.

His grip on my hips tightened further, his fingers digging into my flesh as if grounding himself. The sexual tension in the room reached a fever pitch, and I could feel the delicate balance between us teetering on the edge.

"I can't have you looking at him that way, Y/N," he growled, the possessiveness in his tone sending a jolt through me. "It's dangerous. I can't afford distractions, especially not when they involve you."

As his words hung in the air, I felt the weight of his frustrations, the tangled web of desire and duty that bound us together. The dangerous game we were playing intensified, and with each passing moment, the line between professionalism and passion blurred, threatening to unravel everything we had built.

A charged silence hung between us as Captain Price's lips hovered dangerously close to mine. The room pulsed with a heady mix of desire and frustration, the air thick with unspoken promises and the weight of the dangerous game we were playing.

His lips finally met mine, a soft, lingering kiss that ignited a fiery passion within me. A low moan escaped my lips, the sound a desperate plea as he deepened the kiss. His fingers tightened on my hips, his touch both possessive and demanding.

"I can't have you looking at anyone else," he murmured against my lips, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent shivers down my spine. "You're mine, Y/N."

The words hung in the air, heavy with implications. I felt a rush of heat pooling between my thighs, the intensity of his desire fueling my own. It was a dangerous revelation, a declaration that sent a thrill through me despite the rational voice warning of the consequences.

Price's body pressed forward, grinding against mine with an urgency that mirrored the pent-up frustrations in the room. The fabric of our clothes created a barrier, yet the undeniable hot tension between us bridged the gap. I could feel his desire coursing through every touch, every kiss, as he bent me forward, my chest against the cool surface of the wall.

His grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh as he held me firmly in place. The raw intensity of the moment overwhelmed me, the boundaries between us eroding with each passing second. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a dangerous game that left me breathless and yearning for more.

"You need to be punished, Y/N," Price growled, his voice a low rumble against my ear. "And you're going to learn that you belong to me and no one else."

His words sent a thrill through me, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. The air crackled with electricity as he held me captive against the wall, his touch possessive and commanding. In that moment, I surrendered to the intoxicating blend of desire and authority, caught in the dangerous web that Price had woven around us.

As Captain Price's hands moved with a commanding force, ripping my pants down and exposing my bare skin, a gasp escaped my lips, the rush of cool air against my heated flesh sending a shiver down my spine. I was vulnerable, exposed, and yet a surge of desire coursed through me, urging me to surrender to the raw intensity of the moment.

His fingers traced the curve of my exposed ass, sending a jolt of electricity through me. A soft moan escaped my lips as he delivered a light, stinging spank to one cheek, the sensation both exhilarating and arousing.

Thoughts raced through my mind in a dizzying whirlwind. The forbidden nature of our encounter, the thrill of surrendering to his dominance, the overwhelming desire to be consumed by him completely. It was a dangerous cocktail of lust and longing that left me breathless and wanting more.

Price's voice, low and commanding, cut through the haze of desire. "You like that, don't you, Y/N?" he murmured, his tone dripping with a mixture of authority and derision. "You're nothing but a naughty little slut, craving punishment."

His words sent a shockwave of arousal through me, the forbidden thrill of being degraded by him igniting a firestorm of desire within me. I bit my lip, fighting to contain the moan that threatened to escape, the tension between us reaching a fever pitch.

Price's grip on my hips tightened, his touch possessive and demanding. With each spank, I felt myself spiraling further into the abyss of desire, my inhibitions crumbling under the weight of his dominance.

"You're mine, Y/N," he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down my spine. "And I'll do whatever I damn well please with you."

His words were a potent reminder of the power dynamics at play, the dangerous game we were playing pushing us both to the brink of madness. And in that moment, as he delivered another punishing spank to my exposed flesh, I surrendered completely to the intoxicating blend of pleasure and pain, lost in the heady haze of desire that consumed us both.

The atmosphere in the room thickened as Captain Price's demeanor shifted. His touch became more aggressive, the spanks landing with a force that sent waves of heat through my body. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, my breath catching in my throat as the intensity of the moment escalated.

"Tell me, Y/N," Price commanded, his voice a low growl, "who do you belong to?"

A mix of desire and trepidation coursed through me as I tried to form words. "You," I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible.

Louder, he demanded, "Louder, Y/N. Tell me."

"I belong to you," I answered, the words hanging in the air like a forbidden confession.

Satisfied, Price continued his dominating assault, each spank pushing the boundaries of pleasure and pain. His commanding presence left me breathless, my body responding to his dominance with a surrender that both thrilled and terrified me.

His grip on my hips tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh as he held me firmly in place. "Good girl," he murmured, the praise both unexpected and exhilarating.

The room echoed with the rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin, punctuated by my occasional gasps and moans. Price's commanding presence intensified, and I found myself lost in the dangerous dance of desire and submission.

"Who makes the decisions here, Y/N?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the haze of pleasure.

"You," I responded, my voice barely audible above the sounds of our shared intimacy.

"Damn right," he growled, his aggression escalating. "You're mine to command, to please, and to punish."

The air was charged with electricity as his dominant presence enveloped me, the boundaries between pleasure and pain blurring in the intoxicating swirl of our encounter. The spanking continued, each strike sending shockwaves of desire through me, pushing me further into the depths of submission.

As the room spun with a heady mix of pleasure and surrender, I realized that I was teetering on the edge of something profound. The dangerous game we played had unleashed a torrent of desire, leaving me captivated by the magnetic pull of Captain Price's dominance.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips as Captain Price's hands moved with a fierce determination, tearing my underwear apart with a single, forceful motion. The fabric gave way beneath his touch, leaving me exposed and vulnerable, my breath catching in my throat at the sudden rush of pleasure.

I whimpered in a mixture of pleasure and anticipation as his calloused fingers trailed along my soaking clit, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through me. My hips instinctively arched towards his touch, seeking more of the intoxicating sensation he provided.

"Look at you," Price taunted, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and desire. "Soaking wet like a little slut."

His words sent a jolt of arousal through me, the raw intensity of his dominance driving me to the edge of sanity. I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper as I struggled to respond.

"It's… it's for you, Price," I managed to gasp, my admission hanging in the air like a confession.

Price's smirk deepened, a glint of skepticism in his eyes as he toyed with me. "Oh, is that so?" he teased, his fingers continuing their relentless assault on my sensitive flesh.

I squirmed beneath his touch, the pleasure bordering on unbearable as he pushed me further towards the edge of ecstasy. "Yes," I moaned, the word a desperate plea for more.

But Price remained unconvinced, his smirk widening as he continued to tease me mercilessly. "I think you might need to prove it to me, sweetheart," he taunted, his voice dripping with amusement.

The air crackled with tension as Captain Price's fingers continued their relentless assault on my clit, driving me to the brink of ecstasy with each skilled stroke. The atmosphere around us was thick with desire, the heat of our shared intimacy suffusing the room with an intoxicating energy that left me breathless and wanting more.

The room seemed to close in around us, the only sounds the sultry moans escaping my lips and the rhythmic squelching of his fingers against my wetness.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the room, breaking the spell of our heated encounter. Price's irritation was known, but he never faltered in his ministrations, his fingers working me with a relentless determination that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me.

"Damn interruptions," he muttered under his breath, his tone tinged with frustration. "Can't a man get a moment's peace around here?"

Price's irritation deepened, but his fingers quickened their pace, playing me like a finely tuned instrument. He leaned towards me, his lips brushing against my ear. "You need to be quiet, sweetheart," he murmured, the command sending a thrill through me.

I bit my lip to stifle a moan as Price's fingers delved deeper, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. His dominant presence loomed over me, a silent command to remain quiet despite the overwhelming sensations he elicited.

With a resigned sigh, Price crossed the room to answer the door, his irritation evident in every line of his body. "What do you want, Graves?" he snapped, his tone brusque and dismissive.

Graves stood in the doorway, a smug smirk playing at his lips. "Looking for someone, Price," he replied, his gaze flickering between us with a knowing glint.

As Price opened the door, Graves greeted him with a smug smile. "Price, didn't mean to disturb. I'm looking for Y/N."

Price's irritation flared, but he remained composed as he shot back a rude response. "Well, you won't find her here," he retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Graves's smirk widened, and I could sense the underlying tension between them, a rivalry that extended far beyond the confines of our current situation. But despite the tension, Price's fingers never ceased their relentless assault, driving me closer to the edge with each passing second.

"Is that so?" Graves replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Perhaps I'll just have to look a little harder."

Before Price could offer a more of a response, Graves pushed past him, stepping into the room. Price's fingers never relented, maintaining their steady rhythm as if the interruption had not occurred.

Graves' eyes flickered to me, a mischievous glint in his gaze. "Ah, there she is. Busy, I see."

Price's jaw clenched, his irritation reaching its peak. "Get to the point, Graves."

Graves chuckled, unfazed by Price's irritation. "Just wanted to discuss something with Y/N but I can see the little slut is all out of breath."

A dangerous dance in the shadowy realm of covert desires and forbidden fantasies.

I couldn't contain the breathy moan that escaped my lips as pleasure consumed me, the intensity of Price's touch pushing me closer to the edge. In that moment, with Graves's presence lingering in the air like a shadow, I surrendered completely to the intoxicating pleasure that Captain Price offered, lost in a whirlwind of desire and submission.

As Graves closed the door behind him with a smug flourish, I felt a surge of frustration and arousal course through me. Price's fingers continued their relentless assault, pushing me closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. The air crackled with tension, a potent mix of desire and frustration that left me breathless and wanting more.

Graves's taunting reply echoed in the room, his condescending tone grating against my senses. I bit back a moan, the intensity of the moment threatening to overwhelm me.

Price's voice, low and commanding, cut through the haze of desire. "You noticed that, didn't you, Graves?" he growled, his eyes blazing with sadistic intent. "She tightened up the moment you walked in."

Graves's smirk widened, a flicker of sadism dancing in his gaze as he exchanged a knowing look with Price. "Seems like she's enjoying herself," he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.

Price's grip on my hips tightened, his touch possessive and commanding. "She needs to learn her place," he murmured, his words sending a thrill through me despite the underlying threat.

I struggled to maintain control, the overwhelming sensations threatening to consume me. The exchange between Price and Graves heightened the intensity of the moment, the precarious balance between pleasure and pain pushing me closer to the brink.

As Price's fingers quickened their pace, I bit my lip to stifle a moan, the raw intensity of the moment threatening to unravel me completely. The air was heavy with anticipation, a heady mix of desire and dominance that left me trembling with need.

In that moment, as Price and Graves exchanged looks of sadism, a primal instinct took hold of me. I surrendered completely to the intoxicating blend of pleasure and pain, lost in the fiery embrace of their dominance.

This was going to be a long night.

I'M GOING TO MAKE A PART TWO.

[callsigns-haze]

Pretty like a crime

Chapter 8

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, undercover work, alcohol use, smut, kissing

Prologue/ Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7

"Alexandre, is back in the family." Matthew says as you sit on your balcony, sipping wine to help relieve the stress you've just experienced.

"Nice," you mumble taking another sip and looking at him from behind your glasses. He's changed so much recently, more tensed and stressed. He's been so full of anger and lost compassion that you simply don't understand.

"What's going on with you!" He lifts his voice and you don't even lift your gaze. He's angry but there's nothing that could get you more pissed than you already were. The people who hated the Chevaliers were working their way through history and you were giggling at the sidelines.

"Your brother just flipped his car and nearly died. You're so stuck up and arrogant that you don't even go and visit him and just sit here going on about business, THAT'S WHAT'S FUCKING WRONG WITH ME!" You shout at him.

"All you care about if your doing well in daddy's business. Not once did you stop and think about anyone around you, even your own brother's. Matthew, history from ten years ago is getting pulled back up from the grave and you should care about not getting caught by a lose thread!' And with that your gone. As you storm off as you shove past Penelope.

------

These people cared for no one at all. All they cared about was money. You don't know how you got yourself so deep into this drama but you don't want to know, but one thing you learned is that the only way to survive is to thrive by yourself.

You run down as fast as your legs can carry you. Your dad was called down to the police station along with other team members with no reason for the explanation behind it.

You pull out your badge and guards approve your entering and sadly the first person you lay on is the last you would've wanted. "Matthew."

Matthew, was your father's lawyer, family business brings close and yet that so-called lawyer is actually your ex. You haven't seen him ever since you left, from what you heard he went for rehab and it showed. He didn't seem sloppy and drowsy anymore, he had composure. He stood up straight, eyes not bloodshot and looked like the Matt you knew.

"Y/N."

He could not believe his eyes. The woman he had loved for all those years and the same woman that left him was now standing right in front of him, ready to hear news about her father.

"Hi." You both say in sync , causing the two of you to let out a laugh. Your laugh was one of the finest you've ever given off, you're far from happy to see this man and no act could fake it. It broke the thick and tense silence as you asked, "What happened with my dad?"

He looked down at you and pulled out a bunch of paper while pointing and explaining, "They pulled evidence from back years, then forged them together and got this mess." It sure was a mess, each line being more fake and unrealistic from the other.

Your father would never do such things and never did, he has worked honestly and fairly and whoever was doing this to him would surely pay.

"Can I-"

"Hey, Cobra!" A voice from behind you calls as the tall, muscular, blonde, green eyed Texan runs up beside you. He kisses your cheek lightly as Matthew hunts him down with his gaze. Horrible timing Hangman.

"Who's this?" Jake asks, wrapping his arm around your waist. These actions are getting stared at by Matthew as if he was a hawk hunting his prey. "Matt, this is Jake my partner. Jake, this is Kai's dad Matthew."

If you ever seen a cartoon character lose colour in milliseconds there was no better way of describing Jake. All the colour drained from his face, he went all pale and stiff, while shaking as he held his hand out.

Matthew stared at Jake's put out hand and ignored it, slightly shoving past it as he tells you. "They don't have anything solid on him, don't worry. Excuse me, I have to go see my client." He shoved past Jake whispering in his ear as he walked past. "If I were in your place I'd leave my family alone."

Jake got the biggest chills of his whole life. Your ex was, Matthew Chevalier. Nicely putting it, he was done for.

"You didn't tell me HE was Kai's dad. Wait! So you're-" You've heard this sentence more than you could count in your life, exactly the words used on the phonecall.

"Madame Chevalier or Lady, whatever you wanna call it." You sigh, pulling your head back and putting it back down to lock eyes with Jake. You stare at his green eyes for just a moment and then lean in to plant a kiss upon his lips. You wrap your hands gently around his neck, twirling his hair lightly as your lips perform a sort of dance. You pull back and look Jake in the eyes.

"As much as I hate him he's still Kai's father and a damn good lawyer, that's all that matters."

-------

You enter the white room where Romain lay. His neck was injured and in a brace and his arm was in a cast. He looked so powerless. In this moment he looked as if he lost all the authority he's ever had.

You walk toward the hospital bed and sit down on the small chair beside him. A tear slips from your eye as you watch him in such a state. Out of all the Chevaliers he was the only one with dignity and a heart and this all happened because his dad kicked him out for loving a man and not Grace.

"Hey," you say, putting his free hand in yours as he looks at you. A tear leaves his eye as he lays his sight upon you. You felt horrible for him. He didn't deserve this, not at all.

"Y/N, I-i-i-i." You shush him already knowing what he was going to say. The Fortuny family ended in such a way and now he did the same but if it wasn't for Olivia he'd already be dead.

"Romain, their death wasn't in your hands."

------

You lay on your couch as Kai insisted on walking Jake's dog with him, and there was no way you could deny it. The blanket lay only upon your feet as you curled yourself up into a ball.

Matthew was sober and back into his ordinary life. He was sober and in a brilliant state, he was influenced and trusted and most importantly out of all, he found you. Matthew had the right to fight for Kai if he wished to.

Kai was his son after all and the only reason you left was due to the struggles that your relationship pushed. You quickly got divorced papers and signed them and immediately left the continent let alone the country.

You earlier pulled out a glass of champagne, but now you've ended up in the middle of chugging the whole bottle. Your ex husband is in town, meaning he could tear you down for what you did. He could easily get rid of you for what you've done.

"MOMMY!" Kai's voice echoed through the apartment as they returned from their walk. You place the champagne bottle down onto the glass, black coffee table and sit up properly from your previous egg position.

The second Jake had taken off your son's shoes, the little boy ran to you and sat beside you before you pulled him into your lap. "Mommy, can I stay up with the doggy?" The little boy enforced one of the fittest pouting lips you've ever seen but you couldn't say yes, not tonight.

"I'm sorry baby, bed now. You've taken a bath earlier and went out in your PJ's so you're perfectly ready for a night snooze." Kai groans as Jake appears leaning against the living room doorframe with the young energetic dog at his feet.

"Your mommy's right buddy, you'll still have time to play tomorrow." You look up at Jake and smile before standing up with Kai on your hip.

You carry him over to Jake where your boyfriend happily relieves your arms from your son, carrying him to his room to put him down.

- Once Jake re-entered he found you leaning against the kitchen counter, head pointing downwards as you took deep breaths.

There were silent tears streaming down your face when the flashback of the papers went through your head. You let out a little sob not being able to contain yourself and that's when Jake noticed you crying.

"Noo angel, don't cry. I'm here now everything is ok," at that you get up to face him gently wrapping your arms around him and sobbing into his chest.

"Shhhh baby, it's okay. I'm here."

"It's just that when I left I never had to s-s-see him aga-" you could even finish the sentence with your shaking. You were having another panic attack. You haven't had one in ages but Jake knew this wouldn't end well if you didn't relax and take a breath.

"Look at me angel," he commands softly, not trying to be ruff or rude but in a way to get you to listen.

You raze your gaze to him as your glassy eyes spill again and you start hiccuping softly.

"Now, see angel. I'm here, okay? I'm fine and I'm with you so let's keep the past to the past and now everything is okay," he says pulling you in gently.

Your son's slowed down as you started taking deep, slowed down breaths. "I don't want him here. I want him gone, for good this time!" You choke out before reburying yourself in Jake's chest. You want Matthew dead.

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