#they just know what paperwork I'm supposed to be filing they don't actually know what services we provide...

[transhitman]

District manager is coming in to the store today and I swear if she says anything bad about how I'm running my department I'm gonna blow a fuse

[ann1-wr1tes]

Personal Secretary~

Synopsis: You are Leon's personal secretary/assistant. But what happens when he notices that you're overworking yourself? He can't have that now can he?

Warnings: Slight Perv!Leon, smut, Leon being your boss

Word Count: 1,650

A/N: Okay here's one more old fic I found from the past so hope someone enjoys this lmao. I don't know if its good or not and frankly i'm too scared to read it so...

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Leon smirks to himself silently as he eyes you from across the room. Ever since you started working for him as his own, personal secretary…he couldn't get his eyes off of you. Then again, who could blame him really? What a sight he was blessed with everyday, getting to see you in tight, little pencil skirts, clean white button up shirts and nice high heels. You just looked amazing and honestly if having to do boring paperwork meant that he'd get to look at you all day, then he'd take the paperwork in mountains so long as he could have you around while he worked.

You on the other hand tried your very best to keep focused. She's constantly try to keep herself busy by organizing things, cleaning up Leon's desk, assisting him with paperwork or even doing the simple things such as getting him a cup of coffee or lunch.

Even then though, you'd always feel his bright blue eyes scanning your figure and it was enough to make your heart race.

Just like right now. You were busy sorting different documents and papers into the filing cabinet and you made the mistake of turning around to glance at Leon, but only to find him already looking at you. He sent a slick smile from across the room and you quickly spin your head back around and mentally scold yourself. Gosh this man was going to be the death of you. How were you supposed to stay focused when he was looking at you like that?

As Leon sat behind his desk, eyeing a document in front of him, he couldn't help but smirk to himself as he had the image of your flustered face ingrained in his mind. He just loved to get reactions out of you. The way your cheeks flushed, your eyes would suddenly widen and you'd try your best to busy yourself again and act like nothing happened but Leon wasn't stupid and dammit! He found you to be excruciatingly adorable. And boy if his ego didn't rise another notch after every time you blushed or looked flustered.

You sighed to yourself softly as your fingers ran over the files. You were searching for a certain letter in particular and it was taking forever. Then again, in your defense the filing cabinet was huge and stuffed full of different documents and important papers. Plus who knows the last time someone actually bothered to go and try to organize everything like you were now.

Leon glances up at you and he watches as you seem to struggle to find the correct spot for the files. Gosh he was going crazy. You just looked so perfect, so pretty. The way the skirt hugged your hips and how your white, button up shirt seemed to really show off your chest….it almost made his head spin.

You grumble to yourself as you finally find the spot you were looking for but suddenly you hear the door to Leon's office click and you look over to find Leon locking the door. He shoots you a simple smile and walks over with a few strides. Each step of his, you could hear against the carpeted floor and it almost made shivers go down your spine.

You watch him curiously as he stops right behind you and glances at your hands that are still holding the files that you are trying to sort.

"Jeez Sweetheart, you've got a lot of paperwork to sort…" Leon mutters against your ear. His hands close around you, caging you against the filing cabinet as his chest presses up against your back slightly.

"T-Tell me about it…" you mutter. You dare not look at Leon right now with how hot your cheeks are feeling. But he can't judge you! What does he expect you not to blush when he's so close like this? You can even feel his breath lightly fan over your neck as he watches you search some more through the cabinet.

"I think it's time for a break, Sweetheart.~" He suggests.

You scoff and ignore him, rummaging some more through the filing cabinet until suddenly you feel a pair of warm lips kiss the sensitive spot of your neck and your breath hitches. Leon chuckles lightly in response and continues to press more light kisses to your neck.

"Did I ever tell you how amazing you look in these cute little outfits of yours?" Leon huskily whispers. This time chills do run down your spine. His kisses slowly start to get harsher as he lips press against your sensitive skin which causes pink marks to blossom underneath your skin.

"Leon…what are you doing?" you shakily ask as you exhale through your nose. Leon smiles and his hands plant themselves on your hips.

"What do you mean?" He asks. You roll your eyes at his fake innocence. You knew what he was doing and while it was risky, you couldn't stop it. Not when he looked so handsome in that suit he was wearing. You had never seen anything that could look better than Leon in a suit.

"You know what you're doing…" you murmur, turning your head to look at him. Leon looks at you amused and he slowly runs his finger along one side of your neck before planting another sweet kiss there. His lips slowly leave your neck and soon hes gently grasping your chin and turning your head to face him so he press his lips to yours.

He deepens the kiss quickly, pressing your body closer to the cabinet. You feel yourself becoming dizzy from the intensity and you wrap your arms loosely around Leon's shoulders as you kiss him back. Soon he starts nibbling lightly on your lower lip causing you to moan slightly before opening your mouth wider to accept his tongue into your mouth. You groan when he pushes deeper into the kiss. His hands tighten their grip on your waist and eventually he hoists you up by your thighs and has your back uncomfortably pressed against the filing cabinet.

Your legs lock around his waist as he moves to place open mouthed kisses over your neck. You could feel his growing bulge and it caused shivers to run down your spine. Suddenly Leon breaks away as he pulls at the fabric of your skirt. He tugs your skirt up, revealing your underwear that has a little wet patch form your arousal.

Your stomach drops when you see his hand glide under your panties, rubbing his thumb over your clit and you can't help but squirm a bit.

"Wet already? I've barely even touched you…" he whispers teasingly against your ear.

You whimper and pull at his tie. "P-Please Leon…." Leon hums in response and caresses your cheek lightly.

"Please what?" he inquires, looking you deeply in the eye. Your breath hitches and you let out a soft moan.

"Mmm..I need you….please…" you whimper. Gosh you were embarrassed. You were acting so needy..but then again you really did need Leon.

"You're gonna have to specify, honey." he coos at you. You pout and try to avoid his gaze but he grabs your chin and forces you to face him.

"Go on sweetheart, tell me what you want. I want to hear it." He purrs.

"Now that's a good girl." he praises you in a low voice and he places another soft kiss on your forehead.

You can feel his hard cock straining against his pants and god you wanted him so badly.

"Fuck me….please, I need you…" you plead and then realize what you just said when you see Leon chuckle lowly, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

His hands move up to unbutton his pants and he shoves them down far enough to where he can fully free himself from his boxers. You can feel your whole face heating up as you watch his cock slap against his stomach and it took your breath away.

He smirks as he sees your flushed face, watching how you lick your lips hungrily. He leans down to grab your hips and hold them in place while you keep your legs wrapped around his waist.

"You know you're so damn gorgeous, right?" Leon whispers softly against your ear. Before you can respond a moan is ripped from your throat as you feel his cock stretch you out fully. It made your back arch into him and you had to grip his shoulders as he bottomed out inside you.

"Such a good girl for me…" he groans as he starts to roll his hips at a slow, torturous pace. He wanted to make sure you could feel every part of him and you sure could. You swore you saw stars as you felt him thrust deeper and deeper, almost hitting your cervix as you felt the cabinet behind you shake a little.

"Oh my God!" you whine as you feel your walls clenching tightly around Leon as he keeps pounding into you.

"So sensitive aren't we Babydoll?~" he teases you. You let out a gasp as he slams into you harshly and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Shhh, don't want anyone else to hear us now do we?" he asks you. He starts moving faster and soon you feel your orgasm building up and you bite down onto your lower lip as you start shaking. Your walls squeeze around his member tightly and you can see the pleasure flash across his face as he moans into your neck, trying to muffle the sound.

You clamp a hand over your mouth as both you and Leon can hear footsteps on the other side of the door. Your eyes widen and you look at Leon who is still rolling his hips in and out of you without a care.

"Lets see if you can stay quiet…" Leon growls playfully.

[scrubbinn]

Mimic HRT: month 21 “Mended patience”

“Mx, are you alright? Is there something I could get you, water, earmuffs? You can ask if there's anything you need.”

“Huh? Oh, no water please. And I'm fine. It's just…”

“It's scary, right? Dealing with doctors I mean. I'd imagine being here is scary enough. Don't worry, everything will be ok. Now let's see… You're Jasmine, right? Jasmine Elwood? You use Gard/Graden neo pronouns, yes?

“Y-yes, that’s right.”

“It's a lovely name. You're a bit early, but I'll page Erian to check if he can see you now. You can take a seat if you like, and be sure to ask if you need assistance with anything.” 

“um, are you a therian? I'm in the right clinic, yeah? it's just, I thought there would be others working here.”

“I'm an otherkin. A mimic. Almost two years in at this point. I just like using my human form when I work. It's tough to maintain but it's harder to work a computer otherwise. I'm currently an assistant to Dr. Erian, and also the receptionist for the next few months after the last one suddenly quit. I swear the more I work here the more I wonder how this place managed to stay afloat for so long. Sorry, I don't mean to make this place sound bad or cheap. It's helped me quite a lot with becoming who I was meant to be. I'm sure you'll find exactly what you're looking for here.”

“...Thanks.”

“Oh, looks like the doctor will see you now. But one last thing before you go in. You can choose if you would like to meet Dr. Erian alone, or if you wish for an assistant such as myself to sit in with you to make sure everything is more comfortable-

“Yes. that. Please. Uh, if that's ok.”

“Sure thing! Please follow me.”

* * * 

“Hello. I'm Dr. Erian, and you would be Ms. Elwood, correct? Is that your actual family name? You'll need to use your real name or else there could be legal trouble. Eitherway, I’ve taken the time to read through most of the files that were transferred from your old provider. It seems you just entered your first year on a normal HRT which is good, we wouldn’t be able to give you this treatment otherwise. Now then, let’s take a look at the documentation you filled out for me. You should be grateful that we’ve now moved to an informed consent model due to certain clientele. Ahem, anyways, it says here you’re looking to become a golem? Odd, with your name I assumed you-

“Doctor. Please focus on the client, and don’t make assumptions.”

“Right. Well, switching from a carbon based lifeform to silicon is tricky and involves crossing not just a species threshold but also a biological one. Not to mention there could be a lot of damage to your body if anything goes wrong. Perhaps you could explain why you think you're a golem?”

  “I, um, I- I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous right now. I have trouble speaking sometimes.”

“Speak up Ms, I couldn't make out what you were- ow. Mayday! May I remind you that-

“Sorry about that Jasmine. You can ignore him for now. Focus on me and let’s take some deep breaths together. In and out ok? In and out, there you go! Do you think you could tell me what being a golem is like?”

“Um, it’s just, it’s just who and what I am. I can’t really describe it. It’s the only thing I can see myself as. There's some days where I just lie outside completely still and let nature move around me. It's peaceful.”

“Ok! Did you get that doc?”

“Sigh, alright fine. At least it sounds like you've been living as your preferred species for a while now. I suppose we can move on to other topics. It will take some time to formulate the proper medication for something like this, but through modern magic and medicine, it can be done. Now, we'll need to go over some paperwork, mostly an acknowledgement of potential risk. You could no longer be considered human depending on legal changes. I'll give you time to look it over.”

“Um, do… Do you know what I might look like if I took this medication? I know what I am but I'm a bit scared something is going to happen.”

“I could show you if you want, I have an idea of what you might want based on what you've told me…

…Well, what do you think? Oh! Please don't touch, I'm not actually made of rocks and you might poke a tooth.”

“Sorry it's just. You look like me. The real me.”

“Well doc? Think we can make something like this?”

“I suppose so, it won't have the specific details, but the general shape is possible. Let's continue the discussion on your treatment first, and if you agree, then we can have a prescription ready in a month.”

* * *

“You performed Adequately Ms. Mulberry. Perhaps you'll actually make a decent assistant, and it seems Ms. Elwood will have a bright future thanks to this clinic. There aren't any other client meetings today, so I'll have you handling prescriptions to send out to pharmacies. Before that though, how has the progress gone on documenting your species?”

“If you mean my mimicry in general, it's going well. I'll have my findings on your desk next month. If you mean learning about the other voice I've been hearing. No luck there. It doesn't show up unless I'm feeling some kind of extreme emotion. Looking back it feels like it wasn't just one voice, but several. It's hard to figure out, some of the others in the THEMS group have some ideas as to what it could be.

“Being influenced by the thoughts of a third party with no medical experience isn't going to solve anything. Please look into it further on your own. I can't move forward with patenting this medication without knowing if this is a potential side effect, or if it's just something in your head..”

“That certainly didn't stop you with me. Look, I'm still going to work with the support group if they can help. Plus when I start my therapy sessions it's going to be something that'll have to come up at some point. Someone else is going to be involved in this. What you should be focusing on right now is Jasmine's treatment.”

“Yes I really should start working on her tre-

“You mean garden treatment. And stop saying Ms. It's Mx. Gard listed garden gender as a non-binary option.”

“Yes, whatever. I have a lot of things to keep track of. Can't keep up with every little detail about a patient. That's your job now, and don't go forgetting who's in charge here! Your little blackmail attempt amounted to nothing. So don't go cutting me off again! Not now, and especially not during client meetings! I have the power to fire you if I see a single slip up. Remember which of us is the doctor and which of us is the assistant. Now then, I expect a report of your mimic status by next week and you should hurry along to fulfill your duties to our clients.”

“What do you mean it amounted to nothing?”

“Excuse me? What are you saying?”

“I'm saying that I'm here right now aren't I? I don't mean that you gave me this job, I mean you gave me legal access to all those files I wanted. It's kind of crazy you didn't realize. I guess I hit the nail on the head when I assumed you'd see me as an opportunity to show other therians that you're on our side. But now, I have complete access to everything and I can legally be a whistleblower to the public here. If you ever hurt me again, I'll send out everything. And I won't even be affected. After all, I'm just an innocent assistant concerned for the safety of the general public. I'm sure with your reputation completely sunk, it wouldn't be hard to replace you. There's a number of other doctors that would kill to have your position. You wouldn't survive.”

“You're implying I still have a reputation to lose. I felt pity for you when you fought for the last spark of hope in your life, to see you squandering it on threats like this… Are you truly so vain that you feel the need to pretend your bluff had weight.”

“Erian, I'm saying this for your own benefit. If people knew what kinds of things you did in this clinic. I don't mean you'd lose your medical license or be run out of town. I'm pretty sure they'd come after your life. This isn't a threat, this is a warning. We're equals here now, whether you like it or not. I could be much worse, but I've decided to play nice.”

“...I see. Sigh, I'll die of stress from you at this point. Why even work here if you hate it and myself so much?”

“Mayday, the actual Mayday, wanted to work here before she forgot everything. She wanted to learn how to help people. I feel like I owe her that much. I don’t care if I have to step over you or any other bigot to reach that goal.”

“Of course you’d say something hokey like that. Always painting your actions as the only noble ones around you. You really are a monster the media made you out to be.”

“You're the one who made me like this. I had to relearn everything about playing human. Besides, you should have known something like this would happen eventually. If not me then someone would have found enough dirt on you. You're kind of sloppy when you hide evidence… Huh, I thought this kind of conversation would make me more angry, but this has been oddly calming. I suppose it's me no longer recognizing you as a threat. Congrats, now we know others mimics won't inherently hate you. At least not always. Now I just see you as potential food.”

“Food? Tell me then Ms. Mulberry, Did a part of you enjoy the taste of flesh?”

“Don't push it. How about you get back to work, I have patients to care for.”

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@aster-is-confused, @bloodandbrandywyne, @glitchgloop, @nyxthewary, @lunadook

[anonymous-dentist]

Bagi's first day at work consists of paperwork, more paperwork, and even more paperwork. She spills her tea all over her papers (oh, nooooo, how horrible...) and has to redo them all. She refuses a fresh cup of tea from one of the other detectives, a tall man with a terrible mustache that she thinks might be into her.

Unfortunately for him, she's already taken.

Just after noon, she checks her phone. No new messages. Great.

She turns her phone off and stares at her lockscreen for just a second too long before getting back to work on her forms.

Today, since it's her first day at the station, she's filling out the HR paperwork that the HR manager didn't get to during their meeting. Nothing too important, just...

'Next of kin:' is the next spot on the form. Bagi stares at it for a long, long while. Her parents are in Brazil. She and Tina aren't married yet. Empanada is a little girl. And her brother is-

"Oh, not you again," the uniform cop at the front desk groans. "I already told you, man, I can't do anything about the ice cream man until he actually does something."

Bagi halfway turns in her seat to see who the uniform is talking to, and she's briefly taken aback because wow. Who the fuck are these guys supposed to be?

There are two men standing in front of the front desk. One, tall, looks normal enough. Bagi can smell the wolf on him from where she is across the room, but she isn't too worried. He doesn't seem the violent type; he looks more confused than anything.

The other man looks like he's going to strangle the uniform. His clothes are wrinkled and his hair is a mess and his eyes are bloodshot. He's looking down at the uniform like he's about to tear the poor guy apart, and, what, over an ice cream man?

He smells of blood. Another daywalker, probably. What are the odds?

"Okay," he slowly says, clearly frustrated, "first off, it has done something. But we aren't here about that."

The other man chimes in with a much more welcoming expression: "Hi! He's right. We're here for the files on the deaths of those dead guys. Uh..."

He looks at the daywalker for help.

The daywalker supplies, "I'm the private detective."

Hmm.

"I know," the uniform flatly says. "I wish you weren't. Hold on, let me get them for you."

He stands and leaves for the filing room, leaving the two men alone at the front.

Bagi turns back to her papers, but she keeps listening in. Just in case. (The daywalker is giving her weird vibes, okay?)

"Do you really think this has something to do with Mariana?" the wolf quietly asks. "I mean... he isn't dead."

"Not yet," the daywalker replies, just as quiet. "If we can figure out how Dan and Luzu died, then we might be able to save Mariana and- and we'll be able to stop the killer."

He was going to say someone else. That stammer was not uncertainty.

The dead men's names ring a bell. Bagi remembers hearing about the case when she and Tina were still moving into the city. No updates on it in months, not since this Luzu guy's body was found, but this must be the private detective the police department has brought in to help.

For some reason.

Bagi really doesn't get it; how incompetent are the actual detectives in this city? (Not so incompetent now that they've hired her, but still!)

It is kind of alarming that the daywalker seems to think that the killer has kidnapped two people, but Bagi doubts they're actually being held hostage. They're probably dead, unfortunately, because this case is as cold and dead as she is. Nobody's found the bodies yet, that's all.

The wolf huffs out a breath of laughter through his nose.

"You know," he says, still quiet, "when we first met, I didn't think I'd be solving crimes with you."

"Oh? What did you think we'd be doing?"

It's teasing. Suddenly, Bagi thinks of Tina, and her chest hurts with yearning. Tina...

"Oh, you know," the wolf hums. "Hiking, camping... chilling..."

"What, we don't chill?"

"We could chill more, that's all I'm saying."

The daywalker laughs. "Fine, fine! We'll chill after this!"

"No, after this, we're going to the party."

"Yeah, for, like, ten minutes. We have work to do."

"Work isn't chilling!"

"But it's fun work!"

"What the fuck? This is a murder!"

"He might not be dead!"

Bagi rolls her eyes. Boys...

She stares down at her paper.

'Next of kin:'

"Cellbit, here you go," the uniform says as he comes back out from the file room. "Please don't come back when I'm on duty."

"Fuck you, man," the wolf sniffs. "Come on, gatinho."

They leave, still bickering, but Bagi isn't really paying attention anymore. Not really. Not at all.

Cellbit, huh? What a coincidence. Same name as her brother.

Wherever he is.

-

Or: A Breaking Dawn Interlude.

[callofdudes]

I'm crazy and this is mainly based off my oc, but yn is prices adopted daughter that works with him, and the read is like 22-24 and price is supposed to be 45, and he kept it a secret because he's want to protect yn. I wanna see how the 141/könig reaction, can be romantic or platonic don't care lol, yes i know it's stupidly specific, but I'm stupidly specific.

You um... You have no idea, I love this. Me and a friend actually have a story plot where y/n is adopted by Price and they are y/n Price. And I will die on that hill. I'm so glad other people are in the same boat.

Let's be honest it was either Ghost or Gaz who found out first. Ghost because he's a lieutenant and he knows everything so what would you expect?? Gaz because he sits in the filing room in the basements and reads other people's files he can get his hands on for a pass time.

Ghost 💀

Wouldn't say anything at first. When you'd insisted on bringing him back home with you he really didn't fight it that much. You'd dragged him out to the airport and he was honestly just tired and annoyed by the people at that point.

But when you got your tickets and Simon saw the name said Y/n Price, he hadn't entirely registered it. It kind of went in one way and shot out the other.

You both had boarded the plane and you were a load of smiles. Roughly halfway through Simon slowly leaned over as casual as ever. "So you're Price's daughter."

Your eyes widened. "I-what!?" You looked over at him but he didn't really seemed fazed by any part of your reaction. "I'm presuming you're adopted, your biological parents names are on your file."

Your jaw dropped. "And how do you supposedly know this!?"

Simon leaned over slowly and pointed down at the ticket you still had in your hand. The top corner said the purchaser was Y/n Price.

"Oh..." You looked back at him.

"Don't tell anyone, ok?"

"Wasn't planning to." Simon shrugs.

It honestly wasn't a huge surprise to him. Considering Price was caring to all of them, but seemed to coddle you more than the average soldier. And Price just wasn't that type of guy usually.

"So... What now?" You ask, not sure why he brought it up.

"We go wherever the hell you're taking us. Misses Price."

"Simon."

"Mhm, fine fine, I'll stop."

Well, his reaction wasn't nearly as bad as you thought it would be. So you relaxed in your seat again.

Simon now knew, but he didn't bring it up often. Sometimes he'd have a small joke about it in private with you, but other than that he didn't bring it up. What was secret was secret.

He did however let Price know he knew, just in case something went astray in the future and he needed someone he could count on with that information.

Gaz 🧢

Gaz went to Price first to confirm before bringing it up to you. You'd accidentally signed one of your assessments as Y/n Price.

Price was slightly mortified when Gaz asked if it was a mistake on your part. He could have said it was a mistake but his second child is probably too smart for that.

"That's correct. Y/n Price."

Gaz hummed. "Is she your child then?? I didn't know."

"Adopted. I kept her biological parents on her file to protect her."

Gaz nodded in understanding. He was low-key jealous. He was BIG jealous. You were Price's kid?? He wanted to be Price's kid.... This was unfair.

He huffed as he walked to your office.

"Hey Gaz, everything alright??" You ask, still working on paperwork.

"Your father has your assessment."

"Oh thanks-" you paused and looked up at him. "What??"

"Your father has your assessment." He said again, somewhat eerily this time. "Make sure to sign your paperwork differently next time." And he slowly backed away to the door.

"Wait, Gaz!" You called after him, scrambling to get up. "don't tell anyone!"

Gaz was slinking our of your office, closing the door just closed enough you could only see his face. "Your father told me everything."

"Kyle Garrick get back here!"

He slammed the door and bolted down the hallway. You opened it again and ran after him. "Gaz!!"

"You won't catch me!"

You chased him around base but ultimately you couldn't catch up to him.

Gaz understands it's a secret and is very professional about it. But sometimes when you're alone he'll sneak by your bedroom door and your office and whisper something that has to do with Price bring your father. It creeps you out so he keeps doing it.

Price thinks it's funny and doesn't get to stop him so long as he tells no one else about what he knows. And Gaz keeps that promise.

Soap 🧼

He's a little slow, give him some time. There are things that have been shoved in his face that are glaringly obvious. Like one time he found you and Price alone in the gym and he was helping you lift, and Price isn't that loving to anyone I'll tell you that.

Encouraging words and everything. He just assumed it was a rough day since all of them needed some encouragement from Price.

Or that time you accidentally signed something as Y/n Price and he looked over it a million times to make sure everything was correct.

It just... It took him a bit is all.

Everyone else knows by this point so it's one day after a long mission and you all come back you hug Price tightly. "You did so amazing kiddo." He praised.

"Thank you dad."

Loud gasp. Very loud, drawn out gasp.

Soap's jaw drops as he looks at you all wide eyed. "did you just call him dad!???"

You all look at Soap a bit confused and the you nod. "Yeah..? I thought you knew?"

"What!? I never knew this!" Soap exclaims.

"Well... I'm adopted, but it's a bit of a secret so-"

"YOURE ADOPTED BY CAPTAIN-"

Ghost slaps his hand over Soap's mouth and glares at him. "Don't tell the whole base will ya?"

Soap looked over at you when Ghost let's go of him and starts to bounce a little. "This is exciting! I didn't know about it."

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Why am I not surprised??"

"Glad we're all in the know now, but it's a secret Soap, so no going around and telling everyone you see, do you understand!?" Price addressed him.

"Me?? Telling secrets- pfft, Price do you even know who you're talking to?? I won't say a word."

Once he learns it is to keep you safe, he will try his hardest not to say anything. Sometimes in meets he's still so stoked he'll just randomly... "woah... Y/n is Price's kid..."

And then you all look at him weirdly. Like, yes Soap, you've known this for six months now.

König 🐙

Didn't think too hard on how this could go at all

König did not know much about you. He didn't know a whole lot considering that was kept under lock and key by the 141.

It was a huge shock. But now that he looks back on it he can kind of see it... Yeah.

"Hey König?" You asked him while the two of you were sitting on a few empty ammo crates in a dusty old compound waiting for your pickup.

"What is it?" He replied, looking at you curiously under the hood.

"Can I tell you a secret?? You can't tell anyone else though, promise?"

He raised an eyebrow, sitting in silence for a moment before nodding. "Deal. What is this secret?"

You sighed. You trusted him a lot, so surely he'd keep this secret to himself right? There wasn't any real harm in telling him.

"My full name is Y/n Price."

König sat on this thought for a moment before he replied. "You're Price's daughter??"

"Adopted."

He hums. "Alright. Thanks for telling me then??"

You shrug. "You're welcome."

König was shocked. He wasn't expected it at all, especially so out of the blue like that. But he was good at hiding it. He was having a mini crisis inside. You were adopted by the Captain John Price!? What was home life like? Probably really fucking good.

You probably got respected a lot. If anyone other than himself knew. And he wouldn't tell anyone. He had to promise himself that. So it was a lot of pressure keeping this secret that you so very well hid.

But he's honored you told him.

[kissesbyliz]

to his standards

reader x boss!miguel o'hara. office au.

warnings: reader gets put in her place. miguel is a bit mean. phone writing, sorry for any mistakes!

when you signed up for a seemingly normal and boring office job, you envisioned the occupation to fit seamlessly into your lifestyle. something laid back to occupy your time during the day, so you could use the money to fund your real interests outside of work.

and, perhaps all too perfectly, it turns out you were very, very good at your job. you quickly earned the respect of your fellow coworkers, despite their previous reservations, and subsequently was deemed a model employee, ascending the ranks. despite the fact that this job was never supposed to be anything serious at the beginning, you may have been overly proud of the fact that subordinates would gulp in intimidation at the sight of you, that you would be assigned only the most important tasks in place of the usual dull and tedious paperwork.

so when a new boss gets assigned to the head of your department, you assumed that nothing would change. you would be able to resume your tasks as a crucial member of the team.

absolutely nothing would change, and yet... here you were, completely utterly dumbfounded at the amount of paperwork that had seemingly found its way onto your desk. you mouth had actually fallen open in disbelief, before you quickly shut it at the sound of a few coworkers snickering at your face.

"new rules, according to the boss." one coworker calls out to you, "not even the senior employees are free from the grunt work."

"there must've been a mistake. i... i haven't been assigned this kind of paperwork since i first started?" you reply, flipping through the stacks. it consisted of request letters, price lists, the kind of stuff you would expect an intern to deal with. not a seasoned employee, like yourself.

"yeah, all of our actual work? he handed to the jackasses over in finance. i'd tell you to take it up with him, but i'll warn you..." your coworker leans closer to you, lowering his voice as if he were telling a secret. "he's kind of intense."

you're immediately disappointed by the description. "intense?" you deadpan. there's no way all of your coworkers are sucking up to this kind of treatment, just because your new boss is a little intense.

he nods grimly, leaning back in his seat. "sasha tried talking to him this morning, and she came out sobbing. pretty sure she's still crying in the file room now."

now that caused you raise an eyebrow. sure, you would understand the need to raise company proficiency, but bringing an employee to tears because of it would be too far for anyone.

"i'll talk to him." you affirm, grabbing the stack off your desk and spinning around in your heels. if everyone else chooses to comply with this kind of management, fine. but you know what you're capable of, and you sure as hell wouldn't let any old person decide otherwise.

"don't say i didn't warn you!"

as you approach the big brown door that housed this supposedly intense boss of yours, a sliver of doubt began to cross your mind. you bite your lip in thought, a fist already outstretched towards the wood. if he's really as harsh as your coworkers said, wouldn't it be a good idea to stay off his radar, rather than permanently label yourself as someone who disobeys command? perhaps the best way for everything to return to normal is to deal with the menial tasks and work your way back up to the top. you become suddenly aware of the curious stares of your coworkers behind you, no doubt silently trying to urge you to return to your desk.

well, since i'm already here... you knock twice, thrice without allowing yourself a second thought. taking a step back, you briefly wonder why your heart is beating as fast as it is.

"come in." a muffled voice calls out, and you push open the heavy doorstep with a little less confidence than you had previously envisioned.

in the span of the few minutes it took to walk to your boss' office, you took the liberty of imagining how this noble plan of yours might go down. you expected an old man, well past his sixties, to be sitting behind the door. someone visibly inconsiderate, who couldn't be bothered to learn how employees should be treated. maybe with dollar signs in his eyes and scheming hands that were ready to do anything in the name of gaining money. nevertheless, someone you could courageously convince to listen to reason.

what you didn't expect was a gorgeous man to be sitting at the desk before you. he seemed to be in his late twenties, early thirties. his brown hair was brushed back neatly, and thin wire framed glasses adorned his high cheekbones and angular nose. his head was propped up lazily on his hand, eyebrows furrowed as he frowned at the screen. you felt all your confidence whoosh out of your body as you gawked at the man, and you nearly forgot why you were in the office to begin with. did you remember to put on lipstick today?

"did you need something?" an eyebrow is raised as he finally makes eye contact with you, dark eyes already impatient with your silence. you gulp.

"good morning, mr.." you quickly glance down at his name plate. miguel o'hara. "o'hara.."

you straighten, trying to regain your composure after your staring session. here goes nothing. you present the stack of papers that were now a bit crumpled due to the tight grasp of your hand, throwing on your most professional face.

"i just noticed, when i walked in, that these was on my desk, sir."

he glances down at your hands and squints a little at the stack. for a second, you were optimistic in the fact that maybe he did see what was so out of order with someone of your position, holding papers that were meant for an intern. maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all?

all your hopes shattered when he unconcernedly redirected his attention back to his computer, obviously not understanding your point.

"yes, probably because i put them there this morning." miguel answered dryly, too quick to resume the typing he had been doing previously. as if you weren't even there. your eye twitches a little in irritation as you try to grasp for a reply.

"w-what i meant was, i'm in a high ranking position at this company. i'm capable of much more than," you wave the papers in front of you for emphasis. "this."

"what you're capable of," he states. "is simple paperwork, like everyone else. until you can prove to me otherwise, i have more important work i would much rather assign to people who don't come into my office and waste my time."

you don't believe that you heard him correctly. waste his time? you almost laugh at the absurdity. so this new boss of yours thinks he can just come in and run the place? just disregard the foundation this company has worked hard to build and change up the way things have been done for years?

you're a bit dumbfounded as you realize; yes. yes, he can.

a million counter arguments attempt to form in your head, but none of them quite make sense in the presence of your boss. the person who inevitably does control the structure of your workplace and most importantly, the person who decides if you'll be able to pay your rent for the coming month. all of a sudden, you find yourself without any words to say back to him, realizing what a fool you've already made of yourself.

"is that all? or would you also like to inquire about why you have to wear proper attire? why you get a desk facing the wall and not a window?" he continues, and it becomes more and more apparent to you that he wants you out of his office, and now.

it's obvious that he won't back down from his decision, and nothing you could even attempt to refute with would change his mind. however, you've come too far to back down now.

"i'm not asking for a lot here, sir." you say quietly, your face a little heated from the anger and embarrassment. a part of you is already itching to flee from the situation, but there still remains a small hope that he might listen to you. "just the work i know i'm qualified for."

miguel heaves a sigh, sliding the glasses off his face. without the obstruction, you can see how tired he looks. dark circles lined the bottom of his eyes, and his gaze indicated nothing short of exhaustion. clasping his hands together on the desk in front of him, his face now held a serious expression. it was apparent that he was now speaking to you as a superior, rather than the insensitive jerk you had thought him prior.

"i need to make sure i have my employees on the work that best suits them. and as far as i can see, the best way to do that is if i send everyone back to square one, even if it's just for a little bit." he states earnestly. "if your abilities are to my standards, maybe then you can choose the work you want to do. until then, i would suggest you stop complaining and do the work like everyone else."

he hadn't even given you a chance to say your piece before he was back on that.. damn computer again, annoyingly attractive hands clicking away on the keys. even if he did have semi-good reasoning behind all the paperwork, it didn't mean that he could be such a jerk about it.

"well, i'm sorry for disturbing you." you mutter to no one, as miguel was clearly no longer paying attention to you anymore. you turned around and closed the door with about as much softness as you can muster at the moment.

to his standards. you grit your teeth, trying your best not to stomp all the way back to your desk. fine, if that's what he wants, that's what he'll get, you decide. after all, you're one of the top employees of this company. you'll make him eat his words.

[banamine-bananime]

Church, without warning: I actually - I'm not going to lie to you. I think I might already be legally married. To Lavernius Tucker. Wash, who was just trying to have a silent morning coffee and was most certainly not prepared for this but feels that he's probably obligated to take this seriously: Is it... legally... recognized? Church: I think, well - Church: Church: It's by an ordained Minister. Cause Sarge is apparently, somehow, a registered, ordained Minister. Wash, clutching his coffee Very Tightly: Church: and the paperwork was all filed and shit Wash: Church: so am I Church: Am I, like already legally married? Church: Is this going to be an issue if I want to marry Tex in the Vegas Quadrant or something? Wash: Wash: When you get married AS A BIT - Wash, Very Deliberately Calming Down: Wash: you're not supposed to actually get married. What the hell were you thinking? Church: What? It was for a video. Wash, no longer very deliberately calming down: Yeah. But you still signed the paperwork. YOU GOT MARRIED.

Tucker: I got a call yesterday, he's like, 'my sister's seen the video, you know, you didn't invite her. Yeah, moment's gone, and you didn't invite her, and she's fallen out with me, Tucker. And now - now she's fallen out with you'. And I'm like OH. So I look and I'm in bad with the Church family. *giggling nervously* We will not be speaking to Carolina again. I have some apologies - I think I have made a severe and continuous lapse in - oh god. Oh shit.

_________

Church: Just sign it. Tucker: Why? Church: BECAUSE WE DON'T NEED TO BE LEGALLY MARRIED. THIS IS CRAZY. Tucker: It's funny Church: You're not even in my will. Tucker: Why? I'm your husband! Church: My will is 'fuck you all, everything goes to charity'. Tucker: Give it to the charity of me! Church: We're not married. We're not staying married. This is crazy. You're being crazy. Just sign the divorce papers. Tucker: Let's sort this once and for all. If Tex - if Tex - if Tex wants me to drop this, for us to split up, I can, alright? I can see - Church: Just sign it. Tucker: - 'Cause I care about her. Tucker: Right. Okay. I texted Tex - I texted Tex, and she just replied - Tucker: "Get it together, honey."

Tucker, coming out years in the future: I'm bicurious so I can say like 1/5th of it. How about that, you 'ggots? Wash, trying to figure out whether it's biphobic to murder him:

so. i'm not a mcyt fan but from accidentally coming across this very weird mcyt nightmare polycule i have been unable to stop myself from gawking at it like a train derailment and i do think this could be a very real chexer situation. if you are not familiar:

this post is made from actual words that have been said with a few minor alterations

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine the beast pirates learning you are a criminal mastermind

Kaido: *going over a cargo manifest* we will sell these in Port Chugal, prepare them for shipment.

King: Port Chugal won't buy pirate goods anymore, the world government found out they've been trading with us, so they replaced the king there.

Kaido: That's the third distribution market I've had to change in the last month. First the Bourgeois Kingdom, then Ballywood, and now Port Chugal. How are they finding my warehouses?

Queen: we don't know at the moment, but we're working on it

You: *King's assistant* I would like to point out something that all three have in common.

King: Silence.

Kaido: let em talk, I want to hear what they have to say.

You: they were all common stops on Captain Rondow's transport route, who was captured almost three months ago by the world government.

Kaido: You think the poor bastard broke under torture?

You: It appears so, and from the other reports we're getting I'm guessing they have figured out how you conduct your exportation operation. *Hands King the reports*

King: *Skims them* we spent years building this system.

You: which means building another will be faster this time. I'm guessing how they're locating our goods is by the fact that while it's labeled under a company that doesn't have any paperwork officially filed in countries we claim it's from.

Kaido: what are we supposed to do, get a business permit?

You: yes, but actually no. Now any new businesses from any nations in your territory will come under scrutiny by the world government. So I think we should find any failing, but long-established companies, and bail them out in exchange for slipping our illicit cargo into their product distribution.

King: that... might actually work, but there's no way we can guarantee their loyalty.

You: that's why you give them a small percentage of the profits and gather blackmail material. Most rich people are sick fucks will have skeletons in their closet, you just have to look for it.

Kaido: I'll entrust the task to you, and in the meantime we'll have Yamato fill in for you with King.

King: what! No! Your son is... not great at paperwork.

Kaido: Sorry bud, but I'd like to see what they can do on their own, so I'm setting them loose.

Returns from setting up the new network seven months later

Kaido: I just got the finance report for the last quarter

You: *literally just got off the boat* Sir?

King: Your network is more efficient than what we had set up.

Kaido: you're getting promoted, so you can manage it from here.

You: But I was really looking forward to working with King again.

Kaido: then you'll work under him not me.

You: I'm keeping my desk in your office.

King: For someone who ruthlessly castrated a man to get him to do what they wanted, you are very clingy and sentimental.

You: I was well within my rights to revoke that man's dick privilege, you had no idea how man people he's assaulted. I did that town a fucking favor by pickling that man's junk

Kaido: you pickled it!

You: Yes I did, how else, so you think I got an entire town to look the other way about our ships coming into the harbor?

Kaido: I never would have thought of that... You know when I met you I never would have guessed you'd be an asset to my operations. You seemed too soft and naive, too kind.

You: *shrugs* Well thank you for thinking I'm kind, but I just so happen to hate you less than the world government, and you have more money than the revolutionary army. And Lin Lin and her family freaks me out.

King: don't forget Akagami and Whitebeard won't hire you since you've worked with us.

You: *clicks your tongue* and I regret it every day.

Coming Soon

[1d1195]

Protection VIII

Read the rest here: Protection

Hi, this is kinda fast paced, idk. I'm def not confident about this section at all. I feel like it's got potential but I don't think I know what I'm doing. But I don't have a choice but to give it a shot anyway. I know I've mentioned before, but I like Grey's Anatomy and stupid cheesy movies with scenes like this.

Warnings: angst, blood, weapons, lots of sad sad stuff. I actually don't know how blood loss works or g*n shot wounds either but it's for the plot also this is very dramatized because the writing side of my brain is a drama queen. I don’t think it’s very accurate scientifically or logically so if you would be as so kind as to look at it “holistically” and try to just envision something super serious along these lines I would GRATEFULLY appreciate it. Also, I don't know how tech works. Sorry if it seems a bit awful

~5.9k words.

Thank you oh so much to @freedomfireflies for beta reading so I could feel a little better about actually posting this.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Harry, for better or for worse, prided himself on being a hard worker. But for the last three days, and especially today, he didn’t care. He had spent the first half of that horrific day answering thousands of questions. The latter half was spent learning his new office job. When he got back to his apartment—a place he’d hardly spent any time in over the last two weeks—he finally let the tears and frustration course through him. He tried to call her again, but he received a message that his number had been blocked.

He called his mum and broke down.

So, he entered the building. It would be this way now. Day three of filing paperwork that he had spent so many hours writing for her. Now he was at the other end of it. Learning an office job when all he wanted was to head right to her flowery little place and beg her to explain. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, and promise her anything her heart wanted. He didn’t understand and he was floundering. How did he fix this? How was he supposed to breathe? After all that. After all the kisses, all the touches. All the touches he didn’t get and all the ones he deprived her of because it wasn’t protocol. What a stupid idiot.

Good luck, honey bun :( his mum texted. She texted it yesterday too and he wondered how long she would have to text it to him before the frowny face disappeared.

Harry was destined for another hundred meetings explaining that he had no idea she was feeling this way. Because of course, despite the fact he did know what she was feeling—because he felt it too—he felt so much loyalty to her. He didn’t know what her game was or why she was trying to sell it that it was one-sided, but despite how sad he was, she was brilliant. A biochemist in the making, of course, and if she had to break his heart, he believed (or wanted to believe) that she was doing the right thing.

Harry sat at his newly assigned desk and looked at the papers in front of him. Eventually, he would make her grovel for forgiveness. This was too much paperwork for him, and she had to have known how much he would have hated it. But he also thought that she would just look at him through her pretty eyelashes that drove him mad, smelling like flowers, and say sorry and that would be plenty.

There had to be an end to this. He was certain of it.

Niall wasn't allowed to tell him anything that he heard. Harry wasn't allowed to ask about her either (Niall, naturally a stickler for protocol, was following the rule--he didn't even know what she was up to. His job was to train Harry. Their supervisor saw to it that she was under his own surveillance.

"It feels m'being forced t'write with m'left hand after being right handed for m'whole life," he explained to Niall dejectedly. For five months his thoughts were consumed with the flowery girl he fell so incredibly hard for. Overnight she was just gone.

Harry began flipping through papers and tapping at his keyboard for all of four minutes when Niall suddenly dragged him out of his seat, down the hall, and back out the front door without a word. “Niall!” He ground out bitterly. He wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to kill his friend a bit for even recommending he be part of this. He wished he wasn’t her bodyguard. At least he wouldn’t be sour with heartache.

But honestly, Harry owed Niall his entire life for bringing him to her.

“She’s gone.”

Harry stared at him blankly. “Who?”

Niall slapped him across the face—not quite hard but enough to stun him and knock some sense into him. “She’s gone.”

Harry felt like this was a dream. His brain was floating distantly. “What are y’talking ‘bout?”

“There's an email on my phone, to my private email, from a random address, a random IP address. It’s her. She said DSS is compromised...that someone in the department wants her out of the picture and if I’m reading it, it means that she is not in her apartment regardless of what they say. The very same email is going to be sent in ninety minutes to everyone at DSS.”

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s a lie.”

“Harry,” Niall said. “It’s going to...blow everything up. You have to—”

“Niall, that’s ridiculous. She would—”

“She said to tell you the email is from Miss Wildflower.”

The words died in his throat. “No,” he shook his head. That wasn’t something he’d ever written down, wasn’t something he called her to anyone else. That was for him and her...and... “No...it’s not her. She’s fine,” he was in denial. How could he not be? The thought that something happened to her? This wasn’t just some long routed way of her anxiety taking over and ruining something before it started. It wasn’t getting Harry off her detail so they could spend Christmas together (something he had convinced himself of when he was crying to his mom the night before).

“No, Harry, and I'm gonna have to go make a scene and tell them but I’m giving you a head start because she's giving you a head start. You don’t have time to waste here. I’m telling them I sent you home. That you’re too distraught to work.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Okay.”

“She didn’t want you to get hurt,” Niall said. “She was...scared.” Harry frowned and nodded even though he thought he was going to be sick. He winced as he thought it over. Put his hands on his knees as he took heaving breaths. “Harry,” Niall said gently. “You don’t have time—”

“Jus’ shut up, Niall,” he croaked. Niall was silent, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t imagine the heartache and anguish his friend was feeling.

“At least...at least there was a reason, right?” Niall murmured.

If it meant her harm or kidnapping or...worse. No. It wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter the reason. “Yeah...” he mumbled.

*

Since Harry was no longer on her detail, he assumed he wouldn’t be allowed into her apartment building—at least not through the main entrance.

Even if he was allowed in the main entrance, he had to work under the assumption that whatever compromised agents would be waiting out front for him. So he would need an alternate route.

He hurried up her fire escape and opened her bedroom window just as he knew she did the very first day he met her. He was suddenly grateful for her never listening to Harry about protocol. He was glad the window was unlocked. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Her pretty poinsettia and snowdrop apartment enveloped him like a hug. He wanted to bask in the smell of her pine-scented Christmas tree, the way her perfume made him feel at home, and just be there with her. But instead, he was trying hard to keep focus while he wanted nothing more than to break down and sob into the pillow that smelled like her shampoo.

He listened quietly and heard no one in the rest of the apartment. He searched for clues of any kind but there were none. No sign of a struggle. It was like she went with them willingly. Knowing her, she probably convinced them to let her walk on her own. But part of him believed she would have put up a fight. She had to have, right?

Her phone was on the counter. So there was no way to track her, he saw the tens of messages that came from him before he was blocked, a few from Niall, and several from the professor she would be working with next semester.

But it was Harry’s phone vibrating in his pocket was the one that pulled him from his thoughts.

Unknown: Video Attachment.

She was there. He could see her in the preview. Seeing her was like breathing again after being stuck under water for a hair too long. She was alive. She had memorized Harry’s number.

Harry thought memorizing his number was...

If it were possible to fall more in love with her, he did. It couldn't be possible because there simply wasn't room. He was already so in love with her. And it was just his phone number, after all. But he did. He fell so much harder. It felt like the marrow in his bones were aching for her touch.

Harry swallowed and sat on her sofa as he played it.

“Hi Dad...um...” she swallowed hard, like there was a lump in her throat. She looked okay. Her hair was in a braid, strands of it coming out and there was a redness to only one of her cheeks...like she had been slapped. Harry gripped his phone tightly to keep from throwing it. Her eyelashes, those pretty fluttery things that drove him nuts with desire for her, looked wet. His heart pounded. “You know,” she took a deep, shaky breath and she sucked her lip into her mouth.

“Hurry up,” he heard in the background. Wherever she was was nondescript. A construction site by the look of it. Nothing in the video sounded or looked like anything of use to finding her location. She shook her head quickly and tried again. Swallowed again.

“When Mom died, I thought the people that murdered her should have just...ended my life too. I know you know someone murdered her. No one believed me. Not one person. And I thought...I was the only person left in your life. You were supposed to love me and take care of me the way she always did. It killed me every single day that you didn’t—that you don't. It hurts so much that you hate me. Please. Just do what he asks; give him whatever...I don't want to die," she was being so brave. It was the way she held herself. How she seemed to stand straighter in the video. But Harry could hear the nervousness. Who wouldn't be nervous? It broke his heart that she was fighting and being so incredibly brave. "I’ll never bother you ever again. I’ll...go....I'll leave the country...I’ll just go."

“You have two hours,” and then he received a message from the same unknown number, the location of the park he went to when she twisted her ankle.

Harry only had a little under an hour because he knew DSS was going to be on their way soon—especially after Niall sent them on their way. If they received this message too, they would go through some inane plan that would decidedly not work--especially knowing that they were compromised. He was going to send the messages to Niall’s email from an rerouted IP address as soon as he watched the videos a few more times because if they were going to terrify her, Harry was going to help ruin their plan. They would wait for the park. It was what they did. It was the surest way. Protocol.

Harry would have given anything to see her roll her eyes at the word.

He watched the video again. And again. On the third time he was looking at the screen so closely, his eyes looking for some secret message hidden in the pixels. She looked okay, cozy. She was wearing the sweatshirt that Harry wore when he was soaked with rain—when the worst thing that happened to her was that stupid guy leaving her injured in a park. She didn’t look injured now, at least. His heart was aching. It had to be something. She wouldn’t have sent this to him for no reason--it was intended for her dad. It had to be a sign. Moreover, she said something about leaving the country--that had to be for Harry.

Harry felt like he would die if he didn’t figure it out on the next play through. It couldn’t be too hard. She may be a biochemist, but she couldn't have made it something ridiculous for him to solve. He wasn't a biochemist after all. That concert seemed like a lifetime ago. His agitation for losing her phone seemed stupid in comparison. He would tell her such as soon as he found her.

Now he was thinking about everything, every interaction they had as he stared at his phone, trying to will the hidden message to appear. It felt like it was a miracle she lost her phone at that concert. At least he told her she needed a failsafe at that point in time. Although he thought it would be for a guy that was too forward.

It was her hands.

They fidgeted throughout the entire video. He didn’t notice at first. She was nervous, her hands were tied together. Her fingers had to be going numb. He wished he had taught her how to break out of zip ties, maybe she could have escaped all on her own.

But that was when he noticed it. If it weren’t for him knowing the basics enough to know his own name when he saw it, he might not have paid any mind to the shape of her fist. Her fingers were shaking near the middle of her stomach. Her left hand was fidgeting wildly. But her right hand had a pattern, a fist, her pinky, her index and middle finger, another fist, her index finger.

Harry was glad her backpack was untouched. He grabbed one of her index cards and searched on his phone for the American Sign Language alphabet. He knew the first one was A because of his own name. Her pinky meant I. An R. Harry got it...it was her failsafe.

“Good girl,” he murmured to no one. Air. It took him four extra seconds to discern between S, M, N, E, A before he finally moved to the last two. He settled on T because the next letters were another A and G.

AirTag.

What would have an AirTag on her? He didn't have time to question it. He slid her computer out of her bag next, an index card falling from it.

His heart broke.

Harry— I Am SO sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I know you’re going to find me because...you’re you and you make me feel safe. And because...well... I adore you. So much. I tried so hard not to, and I tried so hard to push you away and... Please TRY to forgive me. I promise I did it with reason. I��m so sorry, Harry. SO sorry.

He didn’t have time to cry but he shoved the note in his pocket, wishing he told her he loved her at least once. Ever. He couldn’t pore over her words. Couldn’t guess what she was thinking or doing. There wasn’t time for him to guess how she knew he would find this note. Of course, she couldn’t just put all the answers on this index card because if she did, anyone could find it. Someone at DSS would have found it if she hadn’t perfectly planned for Niall to send him here beforehand. He had to find her faster and before that stupid, corrupt building got there.

Now he was tasked with her password.

Please be easy.

He clicked on the “forgot password" link. A helpful little reminder was there: Flower!number. It seemed daunting immediately. Especially because he was so distraught and worried. There were so many flowers she could have put. He tried Sunflower!14. Snowdrop!14. Peonies!14. How many times could he try? He was terrified it would lock him out. He took a deep breath and he only had moments to figure it out because he was certain people would be hurrying to her apartment from DSS soon.

Tilting his head back at the ceiling he almost felt embarrassed at how easy it seemed now.

Wildflower!14 did the trick.

With a sigh of relief, he searched AirTag on her computer. He opened the application.

She had no less than 50 AirTags. Forty-nine of which were in her apartment with Harry. All labeled with various names for her shoes.

Good girl. He thought. It was in her shoe. When would she be without shoes?

The only shoes that weren’t in her apartment were in a warehouse across the city. He scribbled the address on another index card and shoved it in his pocket alongside her perfect note telling him she loved him.

Harry could hear a commotion starting in the lobby. Sirens were ringing outside. They were coming up the stairs. He closed her laptop, slid it back into her backpack and hurried to her bedroom hoping everything look untouched. He quietly closed the window behind him as they entered her apartment. He descended the fire escape before they made it to her room.

If she could see him breaking protocol, he imagined she would laugh.

*

Harry parked a block away from the address. As soon as he entered the building, he hurried up two flights of stairs to where he heard talking. “It was a risk I had to take!” It was a man’s voice. Harry felt sick. “It was suspicious!” He shouted. “She said she would get more money. How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Get up,” he snapped.

She yelped and Harry thought he might die before he made it to her if he heard her getting hurt even slightly. If he pulled her hair or caused her to stub her toe, Harry would genuinely contemplate murdering him.

Harry pulled the gun from the holster around his ankle. He pointed it down toward the ground and waited by the entrance to the floor and peered so very briefly around the corner of the wall. He caught a glimpse of her beautiful being walking on her own. A gun pressed to her back. Harry swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

If something happened to her, Harry would never forgive himself.

"Listen," she said almost gently. Like she was going to reason with someone with a gun. She was going to get herself murdered and Harry couldn't stop her right now. "I know...I know you want money. I get that, honestly I do. Who doesn't, right?"

God Harry envied her serenity in a moment like this.

He wasn't actively putting bullets in her so she continued. "You're a smart guy. They wouldn't have picked you to do this if you weren't, but you...you have to realize you're their fall guy. This is a national security matter. The first sign of trouble they're going to say you kidnapped me, you hurt me. They will come out clean because they have to," she explained so rationally it would have been obvious to anyone with a pulse. "You don't have to take me there," she finally whimpered the true emotion she was feeling. Harry winced as if her pain was in his own body--he certainly felt like it was. "I can just go...I have a plan. I...or we can fake my death. It doesn't have to be this way," she promised. Like they were going to be a team.

But Harry knew what it was: all her rambling. It was a distraction, it was stalling.

Because she had no way of knowing if Harry made it in time to save her--but the one thing she did know? If she was brought to the park...it was all over.

Harry took a deep silent breath trying very hard to keep as calm as possible because he could not afford one second of hesitation or any kind of slip up. He turned the corner aiming his weapon toward the man holding her at gunpoint. “Harry!” She gasped and made three bold steps toward him; hands still bound up in front of her. The man behind her fired off a round right toward the concrete wall just feet away. Harry didn’t waver, holding his own gun steady in front of him as she yelped again, pausing her steps. It was long enough that he snagged her back before she got any closer to Harry.

The person behind her had his arm around the front of her shoulders. He pressed the cold metal to her temple. She wanted to scream or cry or something. Her hands clutched to the man’s forearm trying desperately to wriggle free. He was using her as a shield—the coward. Harry wanted to scream too. He held his gun aimed directly at his head from several meters away. But it was way too close of a shot for him to even think about taking it. Not with her right there. Not with a weapon held to her beautiful, perfect face.

It felt like all those times he watched guys lean too close to her at the bar amplified by ten thousand. It felt like the realization that stupid prick slipped something in her drink multiplied by a million. His lips were near her ear. Harry was so grateful she was alive and awake.

And maybe, most importantly to Harry, she looked pissed.

“He’s going to kill you,” she hissed at him, tears in her eyes. Bless her angry little heart.

That’s my girl. Harry thought. Harry was going to kill him. Especially if he harmed her in any capacity. He pressed the gun harder against her skin and she winced. Harry faltered for half a second.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sounding so much braver than he felt. He was a mess internally. It was a wonder his hands didn’t shake holding his weapon. He wanted to surrender himself—him for her, he would have taken her spot in a heartbeat. He would do anything to get her out of here.

“Right as rain,” the man said. Harry wondered if he should just take his shot right now. Damn it all because he wanted to kill him for thinking this was funny.

She nodded, just barely. Harry felt the most minor amount of relief.

She could try to run for him again. She was certain she could make it—she almost did. Harry would stop him before he even realized she managed to get away from him. A kick to the shin—or worse. The only thing that stopped her was the metal against her head. She was terrified that one wrong movement would set off a reflexive action that would take her life. Harry inched closer. Six measly feet away from her. She could nearly smell his fresh cologne probably applied habitually before he headed to work.

But six feet may as well have been six thousand miles.

“I can kill her, now,” he said. “Makes no difference to me. I get paid either way,” she inhaled sharply. She thought there would be a bruise from the circular barrel pressing to her skull.

She swallowed, staring at Harry. Perfect, wonderful Harry. If this was the last time her eyes were opened, at least he would be the last thing she saw. Harry had to focus on staying as calm as humanly possible. Even though the thrum of his pulse was like thunder in every inch of his body. She looked unharmed and said she was okay...other than her wrists tied together. “If you kill me, you’ll never get to my dad,” she reminded him. Harry was surprised to hear her talk about her dad. There had to be something more. But he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to get her out of here.

He eyed Harry as he inched even closer. “Keep moving, I’ll kill her,” he promised with a shrug. Harry stopped in his tracks, and she tried to pull her head from the gun. She was so brave, not even the tears in her eyes were stopping her from trying to get away.

Harry was going to give her anything she wanted. A thousand coffees, a million movies, a new set of pens and a fresh batch of index cards, or a hundred fake bouquets to decorate her place. Whatever she wanted.

“Harry,” she whispered breathlessly. He wanted to cry at the sound of worry in her voice.

“I know, love,” he murmured, trying to feign this wasn’t killing him.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked.

He wanted to wince, but he couldn’t blink. It felt like if he dropped his gaze for even a second it would be over. He would lose. He could not lose her. He didn’t respond to her. “Shut up,” the man snapped. She dropped her hands from his arm and Harry wondered how he didn’t drop his gun at the sight. It looked like she was giving up. It felt like they had to give up. What were they supposed to do? It was so quiet; even the cars outside the building seemed to be silent.

Harry and the unknown man stared at each other unmoving from their positions. It was almost like he was watching her in his peripheral vision he saw her fingers fidgeting just like they had in the video. A repetitive movement. Except this wasn’t quite sign language.

This was her thumb and index finger forming the shape of a gun and then her thumb pointing back toward herself shifting ever so slightly so her movement wouldn’t alert the man holding her hostage. Harry shook his head imperceptibly.

“Please,” she begged.

“I said, ‘shut up’,” he gripped her tighter, shaking her and Harry allowed himself to wince. He shook his head more obviously.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I’m going to put a bullet right in your mouth, shut. Up,” he pulled on the safety which clicked so loudly in her ear she thought it was the trigger on its own.

She released a horrific, terrified sob. “Harry, please,” she croaked.

Harry thought his heart was going to break. He nearly closed his eyes as he pulled his trigger right when she sobbed.

The sound of her cry marginally covered the ear-piercing ring of the weapon. She tore herself from the man’s grip impulsively. It was primal, the need to tend to her new wound. The sound and sight of Harry shooting at her had clearly done exactly as she wanted: completely distracted him. Trying to grab at the burning pain in her thigh with her wrists held together. She screamed so violently, so loud, Harry swore it was louder than the sound of the bullet.

As she dropped to the ground; Harry had a clear shot of the man and took it. It pierced directly through his forearm, so he dropped the gun. Harry placed another precise shot to the opposite shoulder rendering both his arms useless.

She was writhing in agony but somehow managed to reach for his weapon with her tied arms, and awkwardly shoved it out of his reach. Harry thought she was his hero. He was going to give her anything she wanted for as long as she lived.

Blood was pooling from both parties and Harry grabbed the man by his injured arm, nearly digging his thumb into the wound to make it worse. He groaned and yelled. He sounded worse than she did. He tried not to think about his beautiful angel bleeding with a wound he caused. All of the wounds he inflicted were well out of harm's way. They would repair eventually.

But Harry didn't need to be shot with a bullet to know it hurt. There was a reason people used the expression I need it like I need a hole in the head when they talked about something they definitely didn't want.

Harry thought honestly about snapping his neck. Instead, he shoved him behind the pole facing away from them, blood dripping in his path and wrapped his arms around the pole, handcuffed them together so he couldn’t escape with a set of zip ties he brought with himself--because Harry was not taking any risks when he found her. He had to be dealt with quickly, but he wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things.

With the few seconds it took Harry to rid himself of the nuisance now stuck behind the pole, moaning in agony until he could get DSS and the cops, (and everyone under the sun) here. It took a moment for Harry to realize he hadn’t heard her screams of pain as he did. She was lying on the ground, eyes closed, face paling, blood pooling around her lower half.

Oh fuck.

“Love?” He whispered brokenly. Harry dropped to his knees beside her. She was bleeding so much. Too much. The training he had from his EMT days was kicking in reflexively thank God. His movements were quick: yanking his belt off, violently pulling himself out of his coat and ripping the bottom part of his shirt off. Her jeans were soaked with her blood, seeping its way up her sweatshirt. He yanked her wrists free of the zip ties finally. I have to get her a new sweatshirt he thought uselessly.

Harry wasn’t nauseous about blood. But the thought of her dying because of blood loss made him feel so sick. Why did he listen to her? Why would he shoot her? Why, why, why!?

He was trying to do too many things at once. His right hand was holding pressure with the piece of his shirt against her wound. He pressed so hard; an insane amount of pressure—he thought he might break her already fragile leg, but it would be worth it if she would wake up. He nicked something. Something bad. Or she had a clotting problem. Something was amiss. This...this was one of the safest places he could have aimed. It had one of the highest recovery rates. All he had to do was follow her stupid fucking plan.

But it wasn't stupid. It was exactly what she wanted. It was what she expected. Harry just had no idea she had prepared for that.

If she could talk Harry down she would have. It wasn't his fault. He followed her plan even though she never explicitly told him. Even though he had no idea she didn't know her own anatomy all that well and accidentally lined up one of the arteries (but fortunately did miss her femoral artery--just barely).

His left hand dialed 911. He didn’t let the operator talk, he was spewing out the address, who he was, what the issue was, barely getting the details out in a messy rush. Harry barely waited a moment before he hung up and called Niall. He didn’t listen to anything he had to say at the other end of the line and repeated the same summary again, this time losing it the longer he talked, his voice coming out in a strangled cry and if it was anyone but Niall he would worry more about professionalism.

“Baby,” he croaked leaving the phone on, shaking her by the shoulder, he lifted her head out of the puddle of blood, her face and hair sticky with the substance. He slipped his jacket beneath her head, a cushion something to get her off the cold, bloody floor. “You gotta let me see those beautiful eyes...” he shook her head. “Love, please,” he begged giving her a squeeze. She moaned and her eyes fluttered behind the lids a bit. The slight relief he felt seemed like hope. “That’s good. Hey, hi, angel,” he cooed. Her eyes turned to little slits as she opened them so very barely. “Good job,” he praised. “Y’jus' gotta stay awake for like 10 more minutes, sweetheart. Okay? Ambulance is coming,” he promised. He continued working on her leg. He was wrapping his belt around her thigh, high around the top. He pulled it into a tight knot. She moaned at the feeling.

“Stop,” she whimpered reaching with her freed hand uselessly for his ministrations.

“I know, love, m’sorry,” he felt his voice dying in his throat. This was bad. So horrifically, bad. “Y’got a bit of a gash here, Miss Wildflower, jus’ like when y’were cooking,” he reminded her. “Remember?”

She didn’t respond and Harry found a piece of metal, like something from the construction that was left lying around, to slip in the knot he made. He twisted it causing an involuntary scream to rip from her throat. He winced at the sound of her agony.

“Harry please,” she begged, eyes dripping with tears. Her hands reached again for him to stop. “It hurts!”

“I know, m'love. M’sorry. Jus’ gotta...” he kept twisting and holding pressure on the wound. Her hands reached for it again, he grabbed both, she was too weak to do anything anyway, but he held them both against her side. “There,” he felt a pinch more relief seeing the gushing had stopped.

“S’cold,” she whispered after a moment of stillness. The burning seemed to stop. It was overshadowed by how cold she was.

Harry thought he might die if she died right in front of him. His heart was racing, the adrenaline was violently coursing through him. “I know beautiful, I know. Goddammit,” he hissed. “Niall, I need back up. Now!”

He pressed harder on her wound and looked at the pool of blood surrounding her. It was too much, too dark. “Ow, Harry! Please, stop! It hurts!” She whimpered.

“I know, honey, I know. I’m so sorry m’angel. I’m so sorry.” He could hear the sirens. “Jus’ another minute.”

She groaned for a few seconds before silence took over again. Harry pressed on her wound again. He was covered in her blood as well. She moaned again at the fiery pain. “M’sleepy,” she managed.

“I know, beautiful. I know; but y’can’t sleep yet. Not yet. I’ll let you sleep soon, I promise.”

More silence. “S’really cold.”

Harry wanted to cry. He sniffled and realized he already was. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“M’sorry I ran away,” she mumbled. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want her to know how mad he was even though she seemed close to dying. “I had...had to...get you away...they’d kill you. And then... I’d have no one…at least this way...” she trailed off.

“Kitten,” he said firmly, he swallowed back the tears. Squeezed her hands. “You are going t’get in an ambulance in thirty seconds and you are going t’live a long, beautiful life. Please jus’ stay awake for jus’ a few more minutes.”

Harry swore she smiled faintly. “...With you?”

“God, if s’what y’want. I'll stay forever, love. Jus’ stay awake, please,” he begged. She didn't respond and Harry began to panic. Where was the fucking ambulance? “Angel, Tell me the functional groups.”

“Hmm?”

“Please, love. Tell them t’me again.”

“Ketone. Carbonyl. Acyl…” she sighed.

“Describe aldehyde,” he croaked. “Niall! Where is it?! Please, baby,” she could feel his hand on her face, but she realized she couldn’t see him anymore. “Kitten, honey, please open your eyes.”

Was he crying?

She wanted to say she loved him out loud. Wanted to say she was sorry for everything one more time but unfortunately her tongue was suddenly too heavy to speak. She swore she heard Harry crying, shouting, and whispering he loved her right in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

--

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[lemon-russ]

I am all weird and feverish and migraine-y and its like 1am, so please enjoy this small aside I have written to segway the next arc of this tropey silly self indulgent fic <3

Also on phone so formatting is off

--------------- 💀 ------------------

(We have dividers at home/ dividers at home:)

7.5 / ???

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 7.5 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10

Cato Sicarius x F!reader

(But not right now this ain't about him)

CW: description of a panic attack

Summary: Ambassador does not want to take a break from work. And is NOT the family pet mortal. Maybe.

Word count: 955

Warning, very minimal editing and I'm dyslexic, like actually literally, so there may be more mistakes than usual. Apologies.

You resume much of your normal work again after the disaster of your last meeting. Thankfully the few meetings you have for the next couple of days are just diplomats and officials you work with regularly.

Most you don't need any sort of guarding, either they come to you or are Astartes from other chapters. In the time you aren't meeting people, you are in your little office connected to Guilliman's, doing paperwork. You're not supposed to be, of course, but you sneak it. He really worries too much.

You're writing out come contracts and supply logistics when there's a knock on your door. “Open.” You say automatically. Guilliman opens the door and steps in, frowning at your paper pile. You keeo writing, glance up, glance back down, then snap your head up and drop your pen, covering the papers with your arms and smiling sheepishly up at the primarch.

“Ah, My Lord, what a surprise!” You chuckle out nervously. He frowns and rolls his eyes, pulling up a much too small chair and sitting across from your desk. “Ambassador, are you alergic to relaxing?” He asks tiredly. “This is the 3rd time in 2 days I've found you sneaking work. This is usually the opposite of how these things go- most people sre sneaking not working, you know.” He says, laying his hands in his lap and sitting up straight and polite. It's a comical sight, he looks like the chair is for children when he uses it.

You grimace at him. “Sir, please, these are already overdue, and I don't want to take time if it just piles up my work for later-” you plead. He chuckles a little, then stands and reaches over your desk. In one motion he sweeps all of your work into his other hand. You gasp. “Sir- please- there's an order to those-” you panic, running to his side and trying to take the papers back.

He chuckles more, holding them far above your reaching hands. “Ambassador, I will be taking over your duties for a couple days. And because I can't trust you not to sneak around and work, I am forced to assign you a babysitter.”

You look up at him, horrified, “my lord, theres a delicate ecosystem to my filing system- wait, did you really call them a babysitter?” You squeak indignantly. He grins, “yes, not a guard, a babysitter, because you are behaving like a disobedient child.” He turns on his heel and strides to the door. “And I'm sure I can manage your delicate ecosystem of paperwork for 3 days.”

You think you're having a panic attack. Your stomach lurches, your head is fuzzy, you can't catch your breath- “three days? Please, my lord- i have so many meetings, I'm going to be so behind, my filing system is based on vibes and very specific-”

He smiles a little softer. “This right here- this is why. Look at you. You're spiraling because I'm offering to take work off of you. You need a vacation, Ambassador.” He walks back and rubs your back soothingly, not unfamiliar with your reactions like this. “It's going to be fine. Fun, even. I'm sending you somewhere nice.”

You take deep breaths, counting forward and back to 10 in your mind- did he say send? “you're making me go somewhere too?” You whimper. He sighs and chuckles. “It's a nice place, a safe, pretty planet, lots of hotsprings and dancing, beautiful weather. Please, ambassador. Think of it like an assignment if it helps. I'm giving you a mission to go to this lovely, calm place for a few days with Commander Titus and a couple others, so that you don't just up and die on me too early.” He chided softly.

Five things you can see, four things you can hear, three things you can smell-

Guilliman sighs. “Okay, okay, I'll give you the rest of the day to work and set things up in a way that you can leave to me easier. Would that help?”

You frown, scrunching your brow. You could label some folders, put dates on them, Guilliman was of course very good at organizing and following instructions, it wouldn't be too bad if you were very clear with the labels…. You let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine…” you submit. “I'll…. Take a vacation…” you mumble.

The primarch grins at you, patting your back. “Excellent. I'll inform the commander and have thing prepared for this evening.” He stands, handing back your papers. You take them and trudge back to your desk, pouting. He chuckles. “There there, ambassador. Why don't I make you your favorite tea, hm?” He offered.

You purse your lips a bit, trying to stay grumpy. You have a thought that this feels a lot like being treated like a pet, but shake it off. You don't have time to unpack how an immortal demigod superhuman might see a particularly favored mortal. You're not a pet though. You're pretty sure.

“Hmm, what if I got those lottle cakes you like to go with them?” He offered, smiling fondly at you.

You cracked a smile, and a few minutes later, sat at your desk sipping tea and eating cakes happily. You sit up and frown a bit. Wait an warp damned minute, you’re a pet!

You frown at your snacks a long moment. Then sigh and keep eating. Could be worse, really. Best to just never ever think about it again, you decide, happily kicking your feet and doing your work.

[sheeple]

I'm not the best at these kinds of things (headcanons) but I just had to put it out into the world before I go crazy. This is mostly inspired by DEATH by Melanie Martinez (link). It's half-baked and has no real end. Do with it what you want Warning(s): death / wonky use of past and present tense Part 2 (ish)

Okay so I've had this idea of a soldier (you) that's a human experiment done by the government 

And through science or something you are immortal and heal really quick

Like a stab wound is nothing, a bullet is maybe an hour or two

Very indestructible

You get bounced around different squads and countries 

And when it's time to move on, you get from their handler the signal that they have to fake their death the next time you go on a mission 

It has been like that for years until the 141

At first, the boys don't trust this random soldier Laswell claims is needed until they actually see the absolute beast that is you (you know how to fight and fight well)

Price likes you because you're a fighter. You know how to follow orders and have great discipline

Ghost is iffy at first, but when you take a bullet and a knife to the shoulder for him he sees that you're not just some rando that's temporarily placed with them. He also feels like he owes you

Gaz and Soap are happy to have your company

I feel like they are the most likely to actually talk to you. They don't trust you immediately (Soap does after what you did for Ghost)

Soap is also happy to no longer be the youngest around

It's honestly a surprise to you that you mesh with the Task Force so well

Because most soldiers see you more as a hindrance than an asset

And you're honestly glad to have not received a message to move on

Days turn to weeks, and weeks turn into months that you're with the 141 

This is the longest that you've been with one team and you feel at home

You train with Ghost and celebrate every time you manage to beat him. The man actually laughs when you flop him onto his back and you jump up and down

You help Gaz with cooking when it's his duty. He's a horrible cook, but with your help, his pasta doesn't taste like dog piss

You keep Price company while he does paperwork. He takes your cup of steaming coffee with a grateful smile before turning back towards the file. You take place on the chair in front of his desk and read

You and Soap are often found outside playing soccer together or on the shooting range. He teaches you about explosives and you improve his reloading speed

Everything is fine and you actually feel like a member of the 141. You even think they forgot about you until you've got called into Price's office for a secured phonecall

Price eyes you as you receive the news to get yourself KIA on the next mission and report to your handler

The captain raises his brows and you lie that it was a message from your family. Something about a cousin getting married. 

You even joke with the guys before the briefing about how your parents felt the need to go above and beyond to bring you the news

The mission is simple; get in, extract the hostage, and get out.

You're quiet on the way towards the location, your mind racing a million miles an hour about how you're supposed to leave this

How you're expected to leave the first people who felt like home to you since... ever

You don't notice that a tear has escaped you until Soap has laid a hand on your shoulder. You quickly wipe it away and give the sergeant a smile, reassuring him you're okay

The mission went smoothly until Ghost radioed in that the hostage had a bomb strapped to their chest

You see your opportunity and make your way over to Ghost. He's concerned when you tell him you can free the hostage from their vest

And you do so, successfully

The hostage is free and Ghost is leading them away

You grab your chance and mess with the vest, making it display ten seconds until detonation

"Ghost... Run..."

He turns around, his eyes wide behind the mask. They flicker between you and the vest in your hands

Seeing that the lieutenant isn't moving, you take your own initiative and start running

Away from Task Force 141

Away from your guys

The vest explodes and it makes the building above you collapse and burn. You manage to crawl out under the rubble and get to the rendezvous point that your handler has given you

A chopper is already waiting for you once you get there

Teary-eyed, you watch the buildings grow smaller and smaller until you're too far away from them

Meanwhile...

Soap tries to dig you out from under the rubble but gets pulled away by Ghost

He fights the lieutenant as tears stream over his face

Task Force 141 is sombre once they arrive back at the base and give you an unofficial burial 

One of the hardest things Price ever had to do was report your death to Laswell

Months pass before the boys are a semblance of okay. They are no stranger to death and they know they have to move on, but you were something else

There is a you-shaped hole in the team's heart that won't close for a very long time

You are being bounced around again to different teams all over the world

Until KorTac

You've received word that KorTac bought you and that you've got a new handler

That being König

At first, he isn't thrilled about taking care of you. That is until he sees how capable you are

Where König goes, so do you

It's one of those missions that the unthinkable happens

You're scoping a building, clearing a path for König when you spot familiar figures at the end of the hallway

"Shit", you curse, pressing yourself to the wall

König looks at you with raised eyebrows before peeking around the corner

At the end of the hallway stand Soap and Gaz, and you have no way of escaping without hurting them

[firefly--bright]

ur probably kinda sick of writing for th b99 au but can I request some fluff hcs pleeeeaaaseee I need something to balance out the angst

IM NOT SICK OF IT detective kirstein brainrot

- it's become like a tradition for the two of you to spend your dinner time together. it could be a really simple meal, sometimes some boring takeout but it would do, considering that almost the whole day was spent apart. soft music would be playing in the background while jean washed and cut the veggies, you'd boil some stock and get started on the noodles, you saying "she ramen on my soup till I noodle-" "she ramen on my noodle till I soup." "right, sorry, my bad." "yeah. get it right." and sometimes Connie crashes and then soon enough sasha and marco are also there and you're watching those terrible horror movies with cheap jumpscares. jean is a fucking crybaby about it you cannot convince me otherwise

- he's sitting beside you on the couch and Connies making fun of the ghost, sasha remarks on how bad she must smell which starts a whole debate between her and marco about if the outfit that people had on when they died was the same outfit that they'd have to spend their death days with, and jean is fully immersed in the movie, clutching a pillow and you try not to laugh at how he shifts closer to you. "it's fucking freezing in here." he says. "are u sure you're not just scared and want my protection?" "I'm. a grown man I don't know what you're talking about- FUCK." the last bit of his sentence was interrupted because the main character saw two glowing eyes in the corner or smth. grown man my ass. he holds you extra snuggly while falling asleep that night

- which is crazy considering his profession but it's so personal to me actually

- anyway, going back to the last post - he gets so pouty and clingy when he gets an unserious injury. like imagine he gets a cut on his thigh because he scraped it against a railing while chasing someone and he's exaggerating the story SO MUCH. "yeah and so I did a BACKFLIP-" "oh you can do those?" his chest puffs up, "yeah. duh. i can do a lot of things. and then I chased him down this alleyway and there was this grandma in one of the windows that saw me handcuff him and cheered for me." "I'm the grandma." you said, to which he replies, "yeah I like older women anyway." "WOW."

- he's arguing with eren on the job ALL THE TIME. back to when you two met, eren was looking around your appartment Just In Case and jean was SUPPOSED to be asking you relevant questions like "where were you yesterday morning?" to which you answered "I was in my room, getting ready for the day." "oh? I'm sure you looked great-" "oh." "i mean, like, I'm sure - like, you look great right now too. i mean, you. yeah. you're 👍" "thank you, detective." and eren has to butt in, "sorry, my partner usually just mouths off without thinking- "I do NOT." "thats why we call him hors-" "KILL YOURSELF YOU FUCKING BIRD."

great introduction, jean. he's kind of surprised that you even acknowledged him, IN PUBLIC CAUGHT IN 4K because he was so sure he blew it (he kinda did but it was really amusing and you kinda just wanted to talk to him because seeing him flustered was really funny and cute)

also!! bonus texts ;)

:D

(final hc - he listens to the most cuntiest songs while solving stuff. like he's filing paperwork while listening to 360 by Charli xcx)

[suzukiblu]

I don’t know if you’re still taking prompts, but if you are: Rao? Or House of El?

"You never even asked to see my soulmark," Lex Luthor says, raising an eyebrow at him. "So you know perfectly well that it's me on your chest, and I imagine you knew that before I even showed up here."

Kon wants to throw him off a building and listen to him scream all the way down.

Lex Luthor probably isn't the type to give a guy the satisfaction of screaming, though.

"Yeah, because I'm not completely stupid," Kon says irritably. "I was looking right at you when the stupid thing burned into me."

"I assumed, yes, since I wasn't the one looking at you," Lex Luthor says, then hums thoughtfully to himself. "'Burned'? That's a peculiar sensation for a soulmark to come in with."

"Maybe you're fucking peculiar, old man," Kon says.

"Coming from the one whose half of our familial soulmark is someone else's family crest," Lex Luthor says dryly, and Kon thinks longingly of very, very high buildings.

"I'm an El too, asshole," he bites off defensively, clenching his fists. He's not–he's not Clark's family, but . . . but he's that, at least.

At least for now, anyway.

Lex Luthor tilts his head and gives him an assessing look.

"I'd consider you a Luthor, myself," he says. "As would, again, the legal system. But I suppose one couldn't put 'El' on their Earth paperwork either way, now could they."

Kon doesn't have any fucking paperwork aside from his Cadmus file, but if he did, the only name he'd want to put on it would be–

Well. Definitely not "Luthor", that's for fucking sure.

"I don't want your fucking name," Kon spits. "I don't want anything from you at all, except for you to go the fuck away."

"Well, it's nice to want things," Lex Luthor says with a dismissive shrug. "Like to inconvenience the Big Blue Boy Scout, for example."

"Superman isn't actually gonna give a shit about this, you realize," Kon says. "I mean, he'll probably take back the 'S' and everything and never fucking talk to me again, but he's not gonna be upset about doing that. Like, this is in no way a win for you."

Really, Kon's pretty sure this one would count as a straight-up loss. Who the hell wants custody of their least favorite person's stupid fucked-up not-kid, anyway?

Lex Luthor gives him a completely blank look for a weirdly long moment. Kon bristles reflexively.

"My taking custody of you wouldn't upset Superman," Lex Luthor says like he's making a note and not just stating an obvious fact. "So in your mind, he'd just . . . write you off as compromised and be done with you?"

Kon doesn't see why he wouldn't.

He'll probably want the name back too, he thinks, and tries to ignore the way that idea clenches painfully in his chest. If Clark wants the name back, well–well, then it's only fair. He gave that name to some stupid pathetic kid without a soulmark that he pitied a little. Not to Lex Luthor's soulmate.

He doesn't actually know what he's going to be, though, if he can't be Kon-El or even just Superboy anymore.

Not a Luthor. Not that.

But . . . but he doesn't know, otherwise.

[justlightlysedated]

So update, I have NOT finished the fic BUT since I did say maybe today, I decided to post an update! Here is the last 1/3 of Part Two, which is also known as "The Divorce Era" it is also WIP WEDNESDAY! So yay for me 😊

December 2019

Isobel is just walking through the front entrance of the hospital when her phone blares, sudden and loud. She tugs it out of her pocket and to her ear.

"What?"

"When you get here don't do any Jedi mind tricks," Kyle says without a hello. "I have to talk to you before anything else. Where are you?"

"In the front entrance," she responds and hangs up.

She has to stop herself from stomping forward and demanding to be told what is happening with Michael Guerin. But she trusts Kyle enough to wait.

She still doesn't understand how this happened.

They had been practicing with their powers more than usual, but it didn't make any sense for Michael to drop out of nowhere, publicly enough that the emergency services were called before anyone could do anything about it.

Kyle had recognized his description from the EMTs and had immediately called Isobel, telling her he'd do what he could to avoid exposure.

She spots Kyle coming out of the elevator and heading her way, walking fast. He grabs on to her elbow and begins tugging her forward. Isobel lets this go on until they're in the elevator and then she pushes him away.

"Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?" she demands. "And where is Michael?"

Kyle reaches forward and presses the button to stop the elevator before turning to face her.

"Has Michael ever told you anything about being married?"

Isobel snorts, wanting to laugh, but settling for shaking her head. "He's made comments about a husband before, but it's impossible that he actually got married without Max and I there."

Kyle exhales roughly, "Well either he was telling the truth or it's too late to do anything to keep Michael off the government radar."

Isobel clenches her hands together, resisting the urge to tear into Kyle's brain and find out the information that he has faster. The elevator creaks alarmingly.

"Okay," Kyle says, holding his hands out in front of him like he's trying to placate her. "I'm just the messenger here, okay?"

"Kyle," Isobel snaps. "I need a full and concise explanation in the next thirty seconds or else-"

"I can't access any of his records," Kyle says, cutting her off. "Everything from the stats taken at the scene to the oxygen mask put on his face have been put under lock and classified key. The chief of staff says that there was a military code on his file that puts all of his information on a highly classified need to know basis."

Isobel thinks that over quickly, "So what you're saying is that either they already know and there is nothing that we can do or Michael is married to someone high up in the military."

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Isobel wants to smack herself on the forehead.

"I stand corrected," she says before Kyle can confirm or deny her previous statement. "There is someone that he could be married to without telling either of us."

Kyle gives her a look, and she raises an eyebrow back at him thinking, Alex Manes really loudly, and somehow it seems to work.

Kyle's eyes flash from realization to surprise to surprisingly, guilt.

Isobel would ask, but she pulls her phone out again instead. 

To Alex's credit he answers the phone almost immediately, "This is not a good time."

"Okay, when would be a better time for you to tell me that you're married to my brother?" Isobel asks as sickeningly sweet as she can manage.

Alex just sighs, "Good. You're here. I need to leave in ten minutes if I want to make it to my meeting in time."

Which meant that Alex was here in the hospital, when he was supposed to be halfway across the country chasing down Project Shepherd leads. Interesting.

"I'm signing all the paperwork, and once Michael wakes up they'll discharge him immediately, no tests or anything," Alex had continued speaking while Isobel wasn't paying attention.

"Alex," Isobel almost shouts, interrupting his flow. "You're married. To Michael."

"Yes," Alex says, sounding annoyed, like he doesn't understand why this needs to be a conversation that they need to have. "Technically separated. Fortunately he didn't actually file for divorce earlier this year so all of the precautions I took are still legible."

"Technically separated," Isobel repeats in a mocking tone.

She can feel the eye roll through the phone.

"Just get out of the elevator, and come over here," he says. "We're in room C118."

He hangs up before Isobel can say anything else.

She scoffs and pulls up Michael's information, but then decides she can berate him better in person.

"He said they're in room C118."

Kyle nods his head once, and presses two buttons, one to start the elevator again, and the other to get to the correct floor.

"So they really are married then?" He asks, sounding both like he wants to know the answer, but also like he doesn't.

"Apparently it's so obvious that Mr. Manes gets annoyed if you ask too many questions," she pauses for a second thinking it over. "Or is it Mr. Guerin as well?"

Kyle just groans and leans back against the wall.

"What's wrong with you?" Isobel asks.

Kyle is saved by answering when the doors open, but Isoebl stops him as they get out, pushing him into a secluded corner. 

"Are you secretly in love with Alex as well or what?"

Kyle splutters, shaking his head, "No. I mean, not that Alex isn't a great guy, and anyone would be lucky to be secretly in love with him-"

"Thanks for saying that Kyle," Alex's highly amused voice comes from somewhere to their right.

They both turn to look at him.

Usually, Isobel has nothing bad to say about Alex's wardrobe. But today it looks like he pulled clothes randomly out of Michael's closet. As a matter of fact, Isobel is sure that the dirty gray shirt he's wearing tucked beneath Michael's jean jacket is the same shirt that Michael had been wearing when she'd seen him last.

"What are you wearing?" Isobel asks, wrinkling her nose.

"My husband's clothes," Alex responds, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

He grins while she gapes at him, momentarily speechless.

"Alex I'm so sorry," Kyle blurts out like he can't stop himself.

"For what?" Alex asks, giving Kyle a slightly suspicious look.

"You remember when you were in that accident a couple of days before you were kidnapped by your brother?"

Alex nods his head slowly, while Isobel furrows her brow. She had never heard about Alex being involved in an accident.

"Well, I forgot to tell you with everything else that happened, but I  kind of threwGuerinoutofthehospitalforclaimingtobeyourhusband."

He throws the words out as fast as he can, and then looks away, wincing when he catches Isobel’s eye. Isobel has half in mind to set him on fire, but she also didn't believe Michael when he told her that she was married. In her defense, she had thought she had all of the pieces of information. It wasn't until she talked to Max, a couple of years before Liz Ortecho stormed back into their lives, that she realized that there was one big blind spot in her reasoning.

Alex takes a second to get what Kyle was trying to say, and once he does he gives Kyle a look bordering on angry, but still amused.

"You could've just checked my file. He's listed as my next of kin."

And once again, Alex says the words in a way that sounds annoyed that he has to point out something so obvious.

Kyle winces at Alex's tone. And Isobel rolls her eyes.

"I'm sorry, " Kyle says again.

Alex just nods, "It's not me you owe an apology to."

He turns to face Isobel, "Everything is squared away. He's awake and just waiting for the paperwork. You guys can leave once the nurse hands you the paperwork, and a USB drive."

His eyebrows telegraph the importance of the USB.

Isobel just nods her head slowly, "So technically separated."

Alex sighs, "In the last eleven years, we've spent more time apart than together. This marriage has never been about our relationship."

Isobel opens her mouth to argue, but Alex just shakes his head.

"It's a safety net," he says, and Isobel stops speaking, eyes widening a little. "It means no matter what I'll be there for him."

"So it has nothing to do with the fact that you're in love with him or anything?" Isobel questions sarcastically because someone has to say it.

Alex rolls his eyes, "Your brother had ample time to file for divorce any time in the last year, and he failed to do so."

"I have to go," he continues before Isobel can ask another question. "Take care of him."

And he's gone before Isobel can tell him that she doesn't need him to tell her that.

---

Alex doesn't know why he expected that taking a meeting near Roswell would come with no consequences. He hadn't told anyone he was going to be around. He hadn't been planning on making a big deal out of it, which is probably why it's the day that Michael Guerin decides to stop being reliable and lands himself in the hospital.

Alex is only two minutes late to his meeting, and it sets the tone for the rest of the day. 

Alex is tired when he heads back to the house. He intends to sleep for a couple of hours and then pack up a few more necessities and leave.

So of course, when he gets out of the bathroom he hears a knock on the front door.

Alex closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. There is only one person that could be. Well conceivably there are five people that could be. But it's narrowed down to one since there is only one person who wouldn't wait for Alex to open the door before opening it himself.

Alex ignores the new person in the house and drops his dirty clothes inside of the washer and puts it to wash. Luckily the machine is loud enough that it'll remind Alex to put the clothes to dry before he falls asleep.

He walks out of his bedroom, and finds Michael sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he hunches over, looking down to the floor. He's still wearing Alex's shirt, that they'd switched at the hospital, after Alex had seen that there were spots of blood on his. They wouldn't take his shirt, but better safe than sorry.

Alex spots the thick folded stack of paper on top of the table and tries, very, very hard not to sigh.

"Tag you're it," Michael says, straightening up and looking at Alex.

He looks tired, but better than he did when he was lying back in a hospital bed. Alex had never wanted to see Michael in one. 

"You lied to me," Alex says, instead of grabbing the divorce papers and shoving them into the paper shredder in his office.

Michael shrugs, "I didn't lie exactly. I just let you believe what you wanted to believe."

Alex doesn't stop the sigh that falls out of his mouth this time.

Alex really only has himself to blame here.

"I don't understand why you couldn't just file them," Alex says, maybe a bit plaintive. He gave the papers to Michael for a reason.

Michael shrugs and leans back on the couch, "My reasons for marrying you haven't changed."

Alex makes a face at his own words being used against him. Especially since they were now, somehow, on opposite sides of this fight, once again.

"But your dad is dead now," he continues, trying to look nonchalant, but Alex can see right through him. "So all of your reasons are void. So you shouldn't have any more issues."

Alex walks away from him, heading towards the kitchen. He cannot have this conversation sober.

Michael walks into the kitchen when Alex is done pouring some bourbon into two glasses.

Alex grabs his glass and downs his drink, thinking about pouring himself another when Michael pushes his glass closer to Alex with just a flick of his fingers.

Alex grabs the glass and downs the drink before he can second guess himself.

Alex sets the glass down and turns to face Michael, who leans back against the island counter facing Alex.

"Why did you lie to me?" Alex asks before Michael can say anything.

Michael sighs, "There just never seemed to be a time to go do it, and if I'm being honest, there was never a reason important enough to do it."

Alex doesn't say that Michael just spent months in a serious relationship with someone else.

"And also I wanted to see if you would come when I called if you thought I wasn't your husband," he says, grinning at Alex as though it's a joke.

Alex wraps his fingers around the bottle of bourbon, tempted to pour himself another glass.

Michael reaches out and wraps his hand around Alex's, stopping him from moving.

"Michael," Alex says, because he doesn't know what else to say.

"Alex," Michael responds in the same tone.

They stare at each other in silence for too long minutes. Alex's hand tingles where it's trapped beneath Michael's, and his eyes drop to Michael's lips, that part as he stares as though Alex's gaze is a physical touch.

Alex vividly remembers the last time that he kissed Michael and he wishes he didn't.

"You were in the hospital today," Alex says, slipping his hand out from beneath Michael's and taking a step back.

"Extenuating circumstances," Michael says immediately, leaning heavily against the counter.

"Still, the only reason that you’re not playing lab rat is because of the special privileges granted to you by our marriage."

Michael opens his mouth, a familiar teasing look on his face, but Alex cuts him off before he can say anything.

"Don't."

Michael just lifts his hands in the air in mock surrender, pushing away from the counter.

Michael stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jeans, rocking back on his heels.

"So," he starts stretching out the o sound.

"So," Alex repeats shortly. "It seems like we're at an impasse."

They stare at each other in silence once again, but Alex is unwilling to break it this time. Because he might just cross the space between them and kiss him.

Luckily, Michael speaks before too long, "I know you're going to leave again."

Alex inhales sharply.

"But I know you're coming back," Michael continues, taking a step closer to Alex, who remains frozen, staring at Michael like he's prey in the eyes of a predator. "And maybe you'll go on dates with someone else, and maybe you'll fall in love."

Michael looks away at that, and only then does Alex feel like he is breathing again.

"But whether you file those papers or not, once you've figured out exactly what it is that you want, I'll be here."

He turns back to face him at those last three words, and Alex finds himself trapped all over again.

"And this time we won't have the excuse of not being able to communicate," he continues, pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket and placing it on top of the counter. "You can reach me anytime."

"You expect me to believe that you actually got a phone that you're actually going to use as intended and not as a paperweight?"

Michael rolls his eyes, "Answering the phone might be difficult sometimes, but if you text me, I'll always answer back."

Alex scoffs at that. 

If Michael doesn't answer the phone immediately, he can be counted on to call back anywhere between five to nine business days, if he doesn't by then, he'll never do it. And texting is definitely out of the question when it takes him ten whole minutes to type out a single sentence. Alex has seen it happen, and has seen the frustration on Michael's face.

"It's a phone better suited for texting," Michael says, grinning when Alex's eyes dart up to his surprise. "Izzy came with me when I got it."

Alex shakes his head, but he reaches out for the piece of paper anyway.

Michael's smile gets a little wider, "So, call me or text me, whenever you want. And maybe, we can be friends?"

Alex gives him a look at that.

"To start with," he continued, smile turning sly. "And eventually, I'll ask you to either renew our vows one more time, or to marry me again."

Alex stutters out a disbelieving laugh, feeling warmth flicker in his chest in spite of himself. "Oh is that how it's going to be?"

"Yeah," Michael says, easily. "And when that happens, I'm never giving you the chance to file for divorce again, so you should probably do it while you still have the chance.

"But while we're still here," he continues, moving in too close, too fast and pressing a kiss to Alex's cheek. "Happy Anniversary, Mr. Guerin."

Alex gasps, heart thundering in his throat, as Michael leans away and smiles at him.

And because he absolutely needs to have the last word always, he rocks backwards and away, "See you later, Private."

He waves as he goes, smiling all the way, entirely too sweet. He walks down the hall and out the front door, humming a familiar melody that sends Alex's heart tripping all over itself.

Alex barely resists the urge to follow him out and press him down against the side of his truck.

Alex would like to bristle at the implication that no matter what he decides to do he's gonna end up married to Michael, but he'd be lying to himself if he didn't feel happy about the thought.

Alex shakes his head and glances at the bottle of bourbon.

The alarm for the washing machine goes off, signaling that it's done.

Alex takes it as a sign that he's not supposed to drink any more, and sets about to clean up the kitchen, washing the glasses and putting the bourbon away.

March 2020

Forrest really likes Alex. 

If he didn't, he wouldn't have waited almost a full year for him to return back to Roswell so they could actually give this dating thing a try. 

Forrest is not naive, and he hadn't wanted to start something with Alex when he was just coming to terms with being more open with his sexuality. Not to mention the fact, still very obviously getting over his previous relationship. So he'd told Alex that they'd talk when he got back, and had kept communication open the entire year. And he'd felt like they had gotten closer, and that Alex was ready to actually be in a relationship with him.

That was until he realized how stuck to his phone Alex still was. How it seemed like he was keeping secrets. Secrets that involve Michael, who Forrest has been reliably informed by multiple sources, is the first love of Alex's life.

It's not that Forrest actually has a problem with Michael or Michael and Alex being friends. His only issue is all of the secrecy. Everything he's learned about Alex's past relationship with Michael has been by accident.

And sometimes he wished that Alex was more open about it.

He followed Alex home after their date, that wasn't a date since Alex spent half of it frowning at his phone like it had personally offended him and the other half playfully bantering with Isobel and teasing Kyle when they'd dragged their table over after they'd gotten sat down.

Forrest wasn't mad at the impromptu company for dinner. But there was an important conversation he had wanted to have with Alex, something that really couldn't wait since he was leaving tomorrow and had yet to pack anything. Which was the main reason he'd followed Alex home.

Alex gets out of his car, and inclines his head towards the house. Forrest almost scrambles out of his car going after him.

Alex stops before opening the front door, picking up a package from where it was on top of a stool that was just to the left of the front door.

Alex doesn't say much, asking him if he wants something to drink as he lets them both into the house, which Forrest accepts since it means that Alex doesn't expect him to leave.

At least that's what he thinks until Alex pulls out a glass jug filled halfway with lemon and cucumber slices floating in water.

Forrest stares in silence as Alex fills two glasses, and then sighs as he sets the jug down and pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

"We need to talk," Forrest blurts out.

Alex takes a moment to look away from his phone, brow furrowed, before he seems to understand what Forrest said.

His face clears and he sets his phone down. Forrest's eyes drop to it, and he sees the dark screen light up with a new message, the notification totalling to 8 new messages.

Forrest's eyes darted away from the screen and to the package that was resting on the counter. The box looked old, and it was tapped together haphazardly, and instead of a shipping label, there were letters and numbers scrawled on the side: cat:mg:work22.

He looks back to Alex who is once again frowning at his phone.

"Have you thought about what I told you?"

Alex looks away from his phone and frowns at Forrest instead, finally giving him an emotion other than pleasantly passive.

"Which part are you talking about?" Alex asks, like he's confused.

Forrest thinks back to this moment as the moment that he actually realized that he and Alex weren't going to last much longer. But he also thinks that the signs were there from the very beginning.

"It's only one thing, Alex," he replies, putting a hand on the counter and leaning closer. 

Alex just looks at him like he's still confused about what Forrest is trying to say. 

His phone rings then, and Forrest barely sees the blurry contact picture as Alex snatches the phone up. But he'd recognize that cowboy hat anywhere. 

Alex doesn't answer the call immediately, even though it's obvious that's what he wants to do.

"Can you just give me a second?"

Forrest usually would, but he's leaving tomorrow, and Alex seems less than concerned.

"Don't you think answering your boyfriend's question is more important than answering a random phone call?"

Alex's face shuts down in a way that catches Forrest by surprise.

"Okay," he says nodding once, holding his phone tightly in his hands. 

"First of all, you know enough to know that any random phone call could be an emergency."

And really, Forrest should've stopped him there and apologized or something, but Alex just kept talking before he could think of anything else to say.

"Second of all," Alex continued, holding up two fingers. "We're not boyfriends, we went on a couple of dates. Boyfriends is something that we'd have to talk about and what would be the point of doing that when you're leaving tomorrow."

The pointed barb paired with that pointed look is what finally makes Forrest speak.

"So, I guess that's your decision then," he says, feeling upset, but not as much as he'd thought he'd be. "You're not coming with me."

Alex's face cracks a little, and he gives Forrest a complicated look, "I'm letting Deep Sky recruit me."

The words were both surprising and not.

"I'm sorry," Alex says before Forrest can process what he's saying. "But I really have to take this call."

He's making a hasty exit out of his kitchen before Forrest can stop him.

"Is this a life or death situation?" Alex asks as he answers the call, and Forrest doesn't hear a door opening or closing, so he doesn't feel guilty about leaning against the island counter and listening to the conversation.

"I'm listening," he says, and Forrest can see him, leaning back against his closed door, face tilted, eyes closed.

Forrest turns back into the kitchen, eyes darting around everywhere looking for a distraction, and he finds another box sat upon another stool that matches the one that was by the front door. This one was labeled cat:ag:pers33.

Resting on top was an unlabeled folder with several sheets of paper poking out of the top.

He's debating whether or not to go snooping, when Alex laughs, at whatever whoever is on the other side of this, important could-be-an-emergency phone call was saying.

He finds himself opening the folder before he can tell himself that it's a bad idea.

And if he'd thought things between them were over, this was definitely the final nail in the coffin.

It takes him a second to realize what exactly he's reading, even though the words, Dissolution of Marriage don't leave much to interpretation.

Forrest stares at the name Alexander Guerin for so long that he startles when he hears Alex speaking from behind him.

"Sorry about that, what were we talking about?"

Forrest barely hears what he's actually saying, "You were married to Michael?"

"Still married," Alex corrects absently. And it's the casual way that he says the words that has Forrest whipping around to face him.

Alex isn't even looking at him. He's staring at his phone reading a message that was probably from Michael after spending the entire evening being distracted by messages, probably from Michael, who was also probably the same person who he just finished talking to on the phone.

Michael. Who is apparently Alex's husband.

"Still married?" Forrest repeats, and Alex looks up then.

His eyes drop to the folder still in Forrest's hands and an exasperated look comes over his face.

"Have you ever heard of the word privacy?"

"Have you ever heard of not answering a question with a question?" Forrest parries back, almost desperately.

Alex rolls his eyes and stuffs his phone in his pocket.

"Yes," Alex says. "I am married to Michael. Technically separated. But it doesn't matter."

"You think it doesn't matter that you're married while dating someone else?" Forrest asks, feeling not for the first time that he has no idea who Alex really is.

"Yes," Alex says like it should be obvious, walking forward and holding his hands out for the folder.

Forrest doesn't want to give them to him, but he also doesn't want to keep holding them.

He passes the folder over while Alex keeps speaking.

"If our relationship had become more serious I would've said something, but there's no point now."

He stands at attention, folder closed and set aside, and Forrest didn't even realize just how open Alex's body language had been towards him, until this very moment, when he saw how closed off he was.

"Because you're not coming with me," Forrest says, just to get a direct clarification.

Alex just inclines his head without speaking.

"Because of your husband?" Forrest questions, needing to be sure.

Alex sighs, "Yes, but not in the way that you're thinking. And not in any way that I have to justify to you. Not anymore."

Forrest shakes his head, feeling both wrong footed and like he should've seen this coming a mile away.

"So that's it then," he says, trying not to sound as hurt as he feels and most likely failing by the look on Alex's face. "We're done."

"I am sorry," Alex says, sounding sincere. "I really wanted this to work."

"Did you really?" Forrest finds himself asking before he can stop himself. "Or were you just stringing me along until your husband decides to take you back?"

Alex scoffs at that, lifting an eyebrow and shaking his head, "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Forrest demands taking a step towards Alex. "You string me along for a year, and then once you're finally home, and we can start making things work, you're too distracted by your phone to pay attention. And I really don't have to guess to know that it's your husband on the other end."

"Stop calling him that," Alex snaps. "Michael and I don't have a conventional relationship. We've never even really lived together. Our marriage is on paper only. For reasons that once again, aren't any of your concern.

"And it doesn't matter anyway," he continues. "Even if you hadn't found the papers, this would've still been over. Because you're leaving, and I'm staying."

Forrest scoffs, "And is that the same sentiment you gave Michael when you left when you were eighteen?"

He knows it's a mistake even before he says the words, and instead of provoking Alex, all it does is make him shut down entirely.

"Okay, I think you should leave," he says, moving so that he's not standing in Forrest's way, but also not turning his back to him.

Forrest wants to stay and he wants to fight. He wants to beg Alex to give him an actual chance. But Alex doesn't look back at him, and he knows that whatever small chance he had at making this work died long before tonight.

He exhales harshly, "Goodbye Alex. I hope you have a great life."

He walks away before he can say anything else, and the sound of deafening silence follows him out of the house.

[takaraphoenix]

The Dead of the Sea

Tags: polyamory (m/m/f), fluff, married life, established relationship

Main Pairing: Hades/Persephone/Percy

@polympians-event Prompt: wedding/marriage.

@hadesxpercy-events Prompt: Royalty.

This story on FFNet | This story on AO3

Summary: Percy was still adjusting to life as a god and to being married – and married to not just two gods, but the king and queen of the underworld. But he liked his life as royal consort of the underworld.

--

Knocking on the door disturbed his thought process. He frowned, he had so much paperwork to deal with – who thought that death came with paperwork, but no, the underworld had a very well organized filing system. The door opened and Thanatos walked in.

"I came to collect today's files, my lord."

"I told you not to call me that. I do not like it."

"You are the lord of the underworld," Thanatos spoke slowly. "You are ruler of the underworld."

"No. Nope, not it," he scrunched up his face. "Hades is the lord of the underworld. Persephone is the lady of the underworld. I am so not."

"You are… married to them. You are a lord of the underworld, a ruler of the underworld."

"I'm Percy. Just Percy. Not Lord Percy, or worse yet Lord Perseus – next minor god to call me that will actually get splashed," Percy pouted ever so slightly. "Please. I saved your life once, I really do think we are on a more personal level than bowing and lord-ing."

A small smile quirked Thanatos' lips at that. "We would be, if you were any other god. But you have become the royal consort of my bosses, and you became a death god. We're colleagues."

"Yeah, do not like that," Percy wiggled his nose. "Ple—ease."

"I will do my best, Lord Percy," Thanatos smirked and bowed ever so slightly. "Paperwork?"

"Ri—ight," Percy sighed and reached over to the files he had finished. "Thank you for going over them for me. I just… am struggling with the whole bureaucracy."

"And the spelling," Thanatos cleared his throat. "I don't mind helping you settle in. Though I'm sure your husband wouldn't mind helping you out either."

"I don't want Hades to know," Percy flushed in embarrassment. "He does not need to see my typos. Or that I am struggling with this. I just need a little guidance on how to file out all this stuff and then I will learn. I am a quick learner, so."

"You are," Thanatos offered him a genuine smile. "I'll go over these, see if you made any mistakes and we'll talk about them later, okay? Meanwhile, I am fairly sure that I saw your wife pace quite impatiently in the garden, I think our queen is bored."

That made Percy perk up some. "Okay, awesome. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye."

He could hear Thanatos chuckling even as he zoomed past the other death god. Other death god. Because that's what Percy was now. A death god. Specifically, he was responsible for the dead who had died at sea. It was the perfect role for him, considering that the only reason why he had accepted godhood was because he was stupidly, madly, deeply in love with the king and queen of the underworld and had accepted their proposal, after five years of dating, courting and sneaking in and out of the underworld palace.

It was supposed to only be sex. Mostly because Percy was well-aware of the gods' track-record with demigods and mortals. And he was fine with that. Persephone was the most beautiful woman on and below the surface of this world. Hades was so hot, with that dangerous edge as well as that aura of authority. Percy had been easily seduced by them, especially considering the circumstances – he'd moved to New Rome for college, which was such a change in his life, and everybody else was moving on with their own lives too, so he kind of grew apart with most of his friends, on account of where life was taking them and how busy it kept them. Not fully losing contact, but it became more of a monthly meeting thing where they used to see each other every week.

He'd been more involved in Olympian matters, a thing he had demanded after the Giant War, so he ran into Hades on occasion. The attraction was there, but Percy wasn't fool enough to get involved with a married god. Until Hades propositioned him with his wife.

It wasn't a one time thing though. They hooked up repeatedly. And when those hook ups became more frequent, they also started getting longer. Including breakfast in the morning, dinner before the hook up, a movie between dinner and sex. Until it wasn't just sex anymore, it had evolved into a full relationship. It took a little longer for them all to admit that though.

Their relationship was good. At one point though, Hades and Persephone wanted more. They started to court him with the intend of making him their consort. Percy resisted, as long as he could, because… he didn't think they really meant it. Flings with mortals were one thing, but marriage. They'd get over it, he though. They did not. They only grew more persistent. Until he accepted that they really did want him, loved him, wanted him at their side for eternity.

Their wedding was the event of the millennia, everyone was there – Percy's family and friends, of course, demigods from both camps, gods of the underworld, the sea and Olympus. And by becoming their consort, he became a god. Which meant he needed a realm.

Now, he was a son of Poseidon, the sea was a big part of who he was. But he was also the consort of king and queen of the underworld, so becoming a sea god seemed not very practical for his marriage. He'd asked Annabeth for help, because his best friend was the smartest person he knew. Together, they'd figured out the perfect solution for Percy. A death god, bound to the sea. Guiding the lost souls who had died at sea to the afterlife.

And that was perfect. Until he realized there was actual paperwork filed for every soul that entered or left the underworld. This was the part of the underworld that actually felt like hell. Bureaucracy.

/break\

Persephone was a goddess of spring, arguably also winter. The transition between them, really. A goddess of seasons, her companions and friends were the seasonal horae. There was a lot of busy work to be done on the surface. But summer and autumn were her time off, her vacation time, the time she got to spend in the underworld, with her husbands – used to be only one, until her and Hades had fallen in love with this cheeky, snarky, strong-willed, beautiful son of Poseidon.

And she loved spending time with them. She loved the underworld, it was as much her home as Olympus was. However, while her work was seasonal, both her husbands were death gods and death didn't take seasonal breaks. People kept dying. So while she had nothing to do, they still both had their jobs to do, which left her with more free time at her hands. And she had friends in the underworld, of course. Hecate above all else, but also Thanatos, Eris, others. So it wasn't that she didn't know what to do with herself when her lovers were busy.

There was, however, only so much time she could spend hanging out with her friends, reading books, cooking, walking the dogs. At one point, she was all caught up with her friends and had done everything there was to do, and still Hades and Percy were in their respective offices, working.

"Hello, my queen. You look… like you could use some non-furred company."

Arms wrapped around her waist and she had to smile as she leaned against her young consort. "I could. As much as I love the puppy-kisses, I find your kisses much more appealing."

Turning around in his arms, she stole a proper kiss from Percy, who was all too willing to melt into her. One of the things she loved about him. He was very compliant. Soft and gentle, as a lover, eager to let her take the lead. And she'd always liked to take charge in the bedroom. Now, she had two adoring death gods wrapped around her little fingers.

"Are you done with your work for today?" Persephone asked, her hands wandering down Percy's chest and around his waist so she could pull him closer. "Are you all mine now?"

"I am always all yours, Phone," Percy grinned as he leaned his head against her shoulder. "But yes, I'm all done with work for today. You, still busy with the dogs…?"

Both of them turned toward where Zerberus was chasing Mrs. O'Leary. One of the things that had bonded the triad was their shared love for dogs. The fact that Percy had love and appreciation for 'monsters' of the underworld – Mrs. O'Leary, his hell-hound, and Small Bob, the skeletal cat – had truly warmed Hades' heart and made him fall all the harder.

"I mean, we had walkies, and I have been throwing squeaky toys for like half an hour," Persephone tilted her head. "I do think they had enough exercise for now."

"So, you're saying we could go and bother our husband?" Percy grinned wickedly.

"He's working. The thing you were doing until just now yourself."

"Ye—eah, but I think I still have new-spouse-privileges of being allowed to bother my husband at work and stealing him away," Percy pecked Persephone's cheek. "Wanna be my accomplice?"

Persephone laughed and then whistled for their dogs. "Always, my love."

/break\

One of the best things Percy had brought into this marriage – beside himself – was his wonderful cat. Hades, though being a famous dog owner, was very much also a cat person. He liked to work with Small Bob curled together on his lap. Patting the cat was very soothing for him.

"Mreow?" Small Bob raised his head when the door creaked open. "Mew!"

The door opened farther. Hades ignored it and continued working. Someone stood to his left and someone else to his right, both pressing against him. He continued working. The underworld would not be functioning and running if he allowed his beloved wife to distract him. Someone kissed his cheek, the ocean scent tipping him off to which of his consorts it was. Persephone on his other side slowly ran a hand down Hades' chest. Oh, this was evil. Now there were two of them, and they were teaming up on him to distract him from his work.

"No," Hades frowned annoyed. "I am working. Can't you keep each other occupied?"

"Oh, we could," Percy's voice was a teasing purr. "We really can busy ourselves, with each other."

Okay, that one was fully on Hades, he had set himself up for this. Both Persephone and Percy moved away from him and instead turned toward each other, Percy resting one arm around their wife's neck, while Persephone had her arms around Percy's waist. And then they kissed. Not just a peck. They were teasing him. Baiting him. Heaving a sigh, he put his paperwork down.

"You win," Hades glared at them. "You are not a good influence for each other. Or me."

Both his loves simply laughed and attached themselves to him. Both so cheeky, beautiful, tempting and absolutely impossible to deny. Hades leaned in to kiss them both, smiling a little to himself.

~*~ The End ~*~

[ficreadergirl]

Welcome to my Sweetheart

Ep13

"Good morning mr Pierce?" you said raising an eyebrow. He gave you a smug look and handed the flowers to you.

"Just a little gift for you." he said. You took the flowers and smelled them, they were fresh roses.

"Thanks... I guess." you said not sure what to do with them.

"You're welcome." he winked and walked away.

"Did he just wink at me?" you asked Dick who was watching everything with a frown.

"Yes. He's been doing that lately." Dick replied, still frowning. You could see he was trying to hold back his anger but it didn't work.

"Anyway. We should focus on our case not him." you said trying to change the subject.

"He's also our case. He's--" Dick started but was interrupted by the chief's voice.

"Hey Y/n! Here you are! Mr Pierce--" he stopped when he saw Dick. "Uhh... Y/n. Come to my office." he said before walking away.

"What the hell's going on?" Dick asked but you just shrugged. Dick grabbed your arm when you were about to walk away. He looked into your eyes and you could see his emotions. He wanted to say something but he held back and let go of your arm. He left without saying a word.

You sighed and went to the chief's office. The chief was sitting behind his desk with a file in front of him. He looked up when you walked in.

"Take a seat." he said pointing at an empty chair across from him. You did as he told you. He looked at you for a moment before speaking.

"I don't know if you know but mr Pierce is helped the police station a lot." he said while looking at you. You frowned, not understanding why he was telling you all this.

"What do I have to do with it?"

"As department heads, we made a decision. We thought we could take him to dinner." he said, looking at you expectantly. You raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"And?"

"I wanted to be there with all of us. And with mr Pierce of course." he explained. You could see where this was going but you played along.

"And why exactly I'll be there?" you asked. He looked at you, surprised.

"Well... because... he's like... you know boys..." he stuttered. You rolled your eyes.

"You know me chief. I'm not anyone's toy." you said, standing up. "And I don't trust him. Now I'll go to my office and work on my case if you don't mind."

"But Y/n! He's helping us!" he protested. You shook your head and walked out of the office, leaving him confused.

As soon as you were in your office, you sat down on your chair and sighed heavily. You rubbed your face with both hands and looked at the ceiling.

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" you asked to yourself.

You were interrupted by Dick's voice coming from the door. "Hey." he said softly, leaning against the door frame. You looked up at him. His eyes were soft but worried. "What did he say?"

"He wants me to go to dinner with him and Barry Pierce." you said, looking down at your desk. You felt Dick's gaze on you and you looked up at him.

"He really asked that to you? And what did you say?" he asked again, this time with a hint of anger in his voice.

"I said no." you answered.

"Good. Because he shouldn't even think about asking you that. I mean... what does he think of you? That you're..." he trailed off. He was so angry now that his fists were clenched tightly.

"I rejected already. Can we focus on our actual case now?" you asked him, trying to calm him down. He took a deep breath and nodded.

"Sorry. I just... I don't want anything bad to happen to you." he said, looking down at his feet. You got up from your chair and walked over to him. He looked up when he felt your hand on his shoulder.

"Everything's good Dick. Relax." you said with patting his shoulder. He looked at you and smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Okay. Let's focus." he said taking a deep breath before sitting down at his desk. You sat back down on your chair and opened your file, ready to work. You both worked in silence for a while until you suddenly spoke up.

"By the way where's Babs?" you asked him. He looked up from his paperwork and smiled.

"She's playing with her new toys." he answered, chuckling.

"Good for her." you said, smiling. You both continued to work, trying your best not to think about the awkward situation that happened earlier.

After a few hours of working, you decided it was time for lunch break.

"What would you wanna eat?" Dick asked you, standing up from his desk. You shrugged.

"I don't know. I haven't decided yet. What's your suggestion?" you asked him, standing up as well.

"Well... how about we go to that new burger place? I heard it's really good." he suggested with a smile. You grinned.

"Yeah sure, why not?" you agreed.

The two of you left the building and walked towards the parking lot. As soon as you stepped outside, you noticed there was someone behind you two. It was Barry Pierce. You felt Dick tense up beside you.

"Hey there, detectives." Barry said, walking up to you two. You could feel Dick's anger radiating from him but he kept his cool.

"What can we do for you?" he asked politely, trying not to show any signs of discomfort around Barry.

"Actually, I was wondering if you would like to join me for lunch ms Y/n." he said, addressing you directly. Dick was still silent beside you. You glanced at him and saw that he had an annoyed look on his face.

"My friend and I had plans already." you told him, giving Barry a cold stare.

Barry chuckled. "I need to talk to a detective and you ms Y/n... you're the best." he said, winking at you. You saw Dick clench his fists but he didn't say anything.

"I'm flattered by your nice words mr Pierce but--"

"Please, call me Barry." he interrupted you. He placed his hand on your arm, making you flinch. Dick's eyes widened and he took a step closer to you. You could feel the heat coming from him.

"Whatever you wanted to talk about... we can talk at the station mr Pierce. After my lunch with my friend." you said, trying to sound as polite as possible.

"Fine, fine." Barry said, removing his hand from your arm. "I'll see you two later then." he turned around and walked away, leaving the both of you alone. You looked at Dick, who was still glaring at Barry's back.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and husky. You nodded.

"I'm fine." you said, trying to sound calm when inside your heart was racing. He placed a comforting hand on your back and slowly guided you towards the car.

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